Stripped Away In Ecstacy

I wasn't looking to cheat.

Not consciously.

But something cracked that night. Maybe it was the way my boyfriend belittled me in front of everyone--again. Or maybe it was the way he looked at me. Like I mattered. Like he already knew the shape of me underneath the performance I'd been putting on for far too long.

We were all partying, the music humming low under slurred laughter and cheap liquor. My boyfriend had gone off to grab smokes, already belligerent and slurring, while I stood by the kitchen counter, alone. That's when he approached--the friend-of-a-friend with quiet confidence and dark eyes that didn't just look at me... they read me.

He asked how I was really doing. I paused before answering. That hesitation said everything I wasn't ready to admit.

Our eyes kept finding each other for the rest of the night. He didn't flirt. He studied. Watched me with the kind of patience that made me feel like I was being slowly unwrapped. And then someone pulled out E. I'd never rolled before. I said yes.

Maybe I wanted to feel something again.

My boyfriend was now passed out on the couch. Dead weight. No longer my concern.

As the high took hold, my skin turned to velvet. The room blurred, the music melted into me, and I felt weightless. When he reached for my hand--subtle, electric--it felt like gravity shifted.

We slipped away behind a door. Just us. And everything else dissolved.

He locked it behind us, and something inside me locked too. Not out of fear--anticipation. I wasn't just curious. I was starving. And he could taste it.

His eyes ran over me like he already knew what I looked like naked. And when he said it--"You don't belong to him tonight. You're mine."--I didn't flinch. That word, mine, didn't scare me. It spread through my bloodstream like heat, mixing with the buzz of the pill and the ache of being wanted.

He kissed me softly at first, almost reverently. Then his grip changed. Hands at my wrists. Tongue in my mouth. His mouth devoured me like he'd waited too long for this moment. He didn't just touch--I melted under him.

When he dropped to his knees, I forgot how to breathe.

He pulled my panties aside, teased me with the edge of his breath, then flattened his tongue and played. Not just licking--exploring. He'd bring me to the edge, pause, then blow cool air over the wet mess between my thighs. I whimpered.

"Sensitive?" he teased.

"No. Starving."

He smirked like he already knew. Slid two fingers inside, curled them just right, and sucked on my clit like he'd done it in every dream I'd never confessed. My vision blurred. My whole body locked. I came so hard I forgot where I was.

And he didn't stop.

He licked me through it--through the shaking, the oversensitivity--until I was writhing against the floor, breathless and dripping and whispering please without knowing what I was begging for.

Then he stood, pulled me to my knees by the hair, and kissed me--deep. Let me taste myself off his lips. Off his fingers. Off his cock.

I swallowed everything he gave me.

His voice deepened. "Tell me you've never been this wet for him."

I didn't answer. I just cried out, grabbing at his shoulders. That was answer enough.

Then he bent me over the dresser. Fucked me hard. Deep. The kind of rhythm that makes your knees buckle. I saw stars again. My voice broke in half.

He flipped me onto my back, legs trembling in the air, then dragged me to the floor. Pressed my cheek into the carpet. Spanked me once, then again, until the sting made me clench around him. He groaned. Thrust harder.

Each orgasm came like a wave I couldn't escape--ripping through me with the kind of ache that healed. I didn't just moan. I cried out. Like I was being undone and stitched back together, all at once.

By the time he came inside me, my body was twitching. Mind blank. Eyes vacant and glowing like the sunrise breaking through the curtains.

I collapsed against the floor--used, high, wrecked, alive.

And in that breathless afterglow, I whispered, "I don't think I can go back to him."

He didn't respond. Just kissed my forehead.

Because he already knew.

I'd let go of every inhibition I ever carried. That night, it stopped being his.

It belonged to me again.

Or maybe... it belonged to the man who reminded me what it meant to be alive.

And yes, I went back for more.