More Than Time Can Heal a Broken Heart (a Memory)
Copyright© 2026 by BethanyBelow
Chapter 38: Guide Me
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 38: Guide Me - 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 want to try to return the favor,” I said.
I pushed him onto his back. My hands were not steady. I got his jeans open and pulled them down with his help, and then I was looking at him, hard, thick, standing up against his stomach. He was almost half of what Justin had been in length. Six inches, maybe. Thicker, though. The thickness made my mouth go dry in a way that was not fear, or not only fear.
I kissed down his chest first, over the ink, over the place the barbecue sauce had been, down the line of his stomach. I kissed the skin beside his cock before I kissed him there. When I did—lips to the shaft, a small closed-mouth press—he made a sound I felt in my own cunt.
I looked up at him from between his knees.
“I am probably not any good at this. I have only done it with Justin. He usually just slammed it into the back of my throat until he came, or he pulled out and changed holes.”
Andrew’s face did something complicated. Then he smoothed it. “Do not worry. I am sure you are great.”
I smiled, small and grateful and still scared.
“Guide me. Tell me what to do. Tell me what you like.” I lowered my head and took him into my mouth.
He was thick enough that my jaw noticed immediately. I took the head first, tongue flat underneath, and he exhaled like he had been holding it. I worked him
shallower than Justin had ever allowed, learning the weight, the heat, the salt already at the tip.
“That,” he said, voice gone lower. “Just like that. Use your tongue on the underside. Fuck. Yes.”
I did what he said. I licked a slow stripe from the base to the head and then took him again, a little deeper. My hand wrapped what I could not fit. He told me to squeeze, not too tight, and to twist on the way up. I tried it. He groaned, and his uninjured hand landed in my hair without pushing.
“You are doing so good. Look at you. God, Beth, your mouth—”
The praise went through me hotter than the stretch of him on my tongue. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked, messy on purpose because neat had never been what this was. Spit made it easier. I found a rhythm. Up, down, tongue, the wet sound of it in my pink room with the vines on the ceiling and the music still going. He kept talking. Slower. Deeper, if I wanted, not if it hurt. Watch the teeth. That swirl at the head again, please. I followed every instruction like it was the first useful map I had been handed in bed.
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