More Than Time Can Heal a Broken Heart (a Memory)
Copyright© 2026 by BethanyBelow
Chapter 52: Twenty Minutes Later
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 52: Twenty Minutes Later - 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
Twenty minutes later I was on the living room couch, and Carrie was not done.
She had moved me like a piece of furniture she still technically liked and then stood over me and laid into me the way only a best friend is allowed to, which is to say, with love that had put on boots. How could I have been so stupid. What on earth was I thinking? How gross it was. How Amber was going to rip me a new asshole, assuming Andrew had not fucked that as well.
I sat there and let her have the sentences. She had earned them. She had gotten off work early because I was fragile. She had come home to a missing person report she had written in her own head. She watched her brother walk in carrying my bag, grinning in a way that didn’t belong on a grocery errand. The lecture was the bill. I paid it by not interrupting.
From the other room, Sue’s voice came through the wall, aimed at Andrew, the responsible-adult version of the same storm. What being a grown man entailed. Asking—because Sue would ask, because Sue was kind and also not a fool—whether he had worn protection.
A pause I could read from the couch.
Then Sue, louder, exasperated, the temperature of a mother who had not liked the answer she got.
“Well, what if she gets pregnant?”
Carrie said something else. Gross again. Amber again. My name was like a door she was slamming and opening and slamming. I heard all of it. I also heard, underneath it, the afternoon still sitting in my body: the ache, the shower, his hand on my thigh in the dark car, the fact of not hurting.