More Than Time Can Heal a Broken Heart (a Memory)
Copyright© 2026 by BethanyBelow
Chapter 37: His Mouth
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 37: His Mouth - 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
I started to lose the thread of being a person who was performing for the first time. His hands felt too good. His mouth felt too good. I writhed without deciding to, hips shifting on my own sheets, little helpless adjustments toward wherever he was touching. The moans came out of me in a mix I could not edit: soft at first, then broken, then a higher sound when he found a place that lit up.
He took more of the lead, and I let him. His mouth left mine and went to my throat, open, wet, and I tipped my head back and gave him the line of it. He kissed down. When he closed over a nipple and sucked, slow, I arched so hard the bed complained. When he used his teeth, light, just enough to make the nerve stand up, I almost screamed. The pleasure was sharp and clean and nothing like the impatient handling I was used to. I grabbed at his hair and held him there, and he took the holding as permission.
He worked the other breast the same way. Lick. Suck. The small bite that made my hips kick. I was making more noise than I had known I contained. Different sounds. Different volumes. A whimper when he pulled off and blew across the wet nipple. A groan when he came back to it. He answered some of them with sounds of his own, low in his chest, and hearing him groan because of me did something to the scared part. Not erase it. Sit on it.
“Still okay?”
“Yes. Please. Keep going.”
His hand traveled down my stomach. I knew where it was going, and I still jumped when it arrived. He cupped my pussy with his whole palm, not grabbing the way he had in the pool, holding, and the heat of that hold pulled a deep moan out of me that I felt in my ribs. Pleasure spiked, bright, stupid, everywhere at once.
“Be gentle,” I said. “I will.”
He was. Two fingers sliding through the wet, not pushing in yet, just mapping the folds, spreading the slick, finding the line of me like he had time. He told me I was sexy while he did it. He told me I was beautiful. He said I was so wet he could not wait to taste me. The picture of his head between my legs arrived fully formed, and I clenched around nothing, a sound punching out of me that was almost his name.
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