More Than Time Can Heal a Broken Heart (a Memory)
Copyright© 2026 by BethanyBelow
Chapter 33: The Car
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 33: The Car - This is a SLOW BURN story with the real sex only in the last 1/3 though some masturbation in earlier parts. While graphic the sex is very vanilla. This story focuses on when I was newly 18, inexperienced & insecure and my boyfriend of 4 years dumped me. The main purpose is to give those of you reading my Infidelity/Cheating series some background on me. This can be read as a stand alone. It is also not necessary to read this in order to enjoy my Infidelity/Cheating series.
Caution: This True Story Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual True Story Oral Sex
We left the bedroom and stopped to tell Sue the plan. She was in the kitchen; Andrew told her he was taking me to grab clothes and we would be back shortly. She said to take her car and drive safely, and went back to reading a magazine.
We got into Sue’s SUV, and I buckled in and waited to see if Andrew would revert to the shy boy I remembered, all gaps and floor-staring. He did not. It seems that whatever part of the boy who had left for college had finally been put to rest after finding me in the bathroom and our conversation on Carrie’s bed. The person holding the wheel was just a twenty-two-year-old man talking to me, easy, like the words did not have to be approved in advance.
That surprised me more than the kiss had. The kiss had been a shock. This was the shock wearing off and finding out the person underneath could still be simple.
It was like the floodgates had been opened and he talked about any subject I brought up. I asked about the band. He talked about it with pride, about the late-night practices, the particular stupid joy of finishing a song, the way drumming made his head quiet. I asked if he really thought they would get big.
“Probably not,” he said. “You never know. I would rather be the person who tried than the person who talks about trying.”
He asked about my plans after high school and what made me want to be a nurse when I got out. I told him that I wanted to help people who had been hurt or could not help themselves, which was true. He nodded like help was a serious job and not a greeting-card line.
We discussed his college, bartending, the blonde, carefully, because I had seen the picture and I was not a good enough person not to ask. He answered without turning her into a trophy or a wound. Then I asked the one that had been sitting in my throat since the patio.
“Between school and bartending and the band, you must have tons of hot women throwing themselves at you.”
He laughed. He had the good grace to blush a little, which I liked more than I wanted to admit.
“Yeah. I meet my fair share.”
“So what could possibly interest you about me?”
He kept his eyes on the road for a second. When he answered, it did not sound rehearsed.
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