When we first started hooking up, I made it clear that cumming inside me was off the table. I told him flat out that if we weren’t using protection, he had to pull out every single time. He nodded and agreed, and I believed him. Honestly, I believed myself too. I was so sure I’d never cross that line.
But it’s one of those rules that feels easy to make when you’re fully clothed, sitting on the couch, not dripping wet and moaning under someone.
The night it happened, we had been fooling around for hours. He had me on my back, legs spread wide, and he was grinding into me so deep I could feel it in my stomach. Every thrust hit that spot that makes your whole body jolt. I was clawing at the sheets, and the only thing in my head was how badly I wanted more of him.
He was panting in my ear, whispering how good I felt, how tight I was, how badly he wanted to cum inside me. At first, I kept shaking my head, telling him no, reminding him to pull out. But the more he said it, the more my own brain started betraying me. A part of me wanted to hear those words again. A part of me wanted to feel exactly what he was begging for.
When he got close, he pulled back like he was about to pull out, and I just… I don’t know what came over me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held him in. I whispered, “Just do it.” The second I said it, his whole body tensed, and he pushed deep, groaning into my neck. I felt the warmth flood inside me, and my legs squeezed tighter around him like I didn’t want to let any of it go.
It was overwhelming. The risk, the heat, the way my body shook knowing exactly what I had just let happen. I came right after, harder than I expected, because part of me was terrified and turned on at the same time.
Afterwards, I laid there catching my breath while it leaked out of me, and he kissed my forehead like he couldn’t believe I had really let it happen. I couldn’t believe it either. I had sworn I wouldn’t. I had been so sure of myself. But in the moment, my body wanted it more than my brain wanted to keep the promise.
Now I catch myself replaying it every time I touch myself. The feeling of being filled, of giving in after swearing I wouldn’t, of letting him risk everything inside me — it’s addicting.
I thought it would just be a one-time slip, but the truth is, now I crave it.
