I always thought I had control. I prided myself on it, in fact. I was the kind of person who knew what they wanted, and more importantly, knew what to avoid. But then, there was him.
At first, it was just a passing thought, something that caught me off guard. A glance, a smile, the way he spoke that made me feel things I shouldn’t have felt. I pushed it aside, telling myself it was nothing. I was better than this, smarter than this.
But over time, the cravings started to grow. He always started out gently.
Heavy breaths first, then kisses and soft licks along the crook of my groin, teasing out streams of shivers and shudders that made my lower back spasm and my hips quake.
He gradually made his way closer and closer to my center until finally, he pried me open with that first long stroke from perineum to clit.
My knuckles blanched as I gripped down harder on the countertop with each swipe. Thank god I’d done the dishes earlier because my ass nearly slipped into the sink.
After a few long flourishes with the flat of his tongue, he homed in on my clit, tracing wet, concentrated circles around it as I continued to harden for him. With that, I could take more and more of what he had to offer, which he knew almost as well as I did by then.
“Your fingers,” I gasped. “Can I—”
Before I could finish my sentence, he was obligingly thrusting two, then three back into the slick between my labia, stretching me just a little more, while his tongue grew more voracious, but steady as ever.
I wanted to grab hold of his head, but I feared that if I let go of the counter, I’d take us both out. Words and a little hip thrust would have to do. “Oh, fuck, that is so good.”
The next morning, reality hit like a cold shower. What had happened between us was a mistake, a mistake I had known was coming but had chosen to ignore.
The guilt, the shame, the feeling of crossing a line I could never uncross, it all came crashing down.
But even now, there’s a part of me that remembers how it felt, the intensity of those moments, and I wonder if I would have done things differently. Or if, deep down, I would have let the cravings take me even further.
