"You felt bad after that first time?"
Kayla nodded.
"Of course! I was a mess. I cried so much."
Connor could not stop himself from scoffing.
"Come on," she said, frowning. "You really think that little of me?"
He shrugged defensively.
"Ask Stacy if you don't believe me."
"Like I'm going to trust her anymore."
Kayla winced.
"So, if you felt that way after the first time," he continued, "why'd you keep doing it and how'd you get to this point?"
She glanced away to think for a moment.
"Well, I did feel really bad. I knew I fucked up and I told myself I'd never do it again."
He kept silent, waiting for her to continue.
"But..."
___________________________________________________________________________________
Kayla moaned, squirming on the bed. One hand was shoved into her panties, two fingers teasing her slick slit. Her other hand caressed her breasts through her t-shirt.
In her mind's eye, however, the fingers were replaced by a hard cock, and the hand at her breasts did not belong to her. A firm figure was atop her, strong hips pumping smoothly. She let hers thrust up against this imaginary lover to meet his effort. Her fingers rubbed steadily, squishing through streams of her wetness.
The pleasure rose swiftly, spurred on by the physical delight of the sensations and the lewd thrill of the fantasy. She let her fingers slide inside herself, doing her best to match the strength of the imaginary lover. Her lips pursed mindlessly as if to meet his.
The pleasure reached a crescendo, triggering ecstasy, the soothing waves reverberating through her. She whimpered, her hips bucking, her toes curling, her head tilting back. The imaginary lover groaned her name, following her into orgasm.
As she lay there, breathing heavily, the pleasure began to recede.
In its place came guilt.
She sighed, already resigned to that advance.
The first few nights after her mistake with Victor, she had cried herself to sleep, cursing her drunken stupidity.
But one night, after a particularly tiring day, she had ended up full of need. The need had won out, with her swearing that it would just be an animalistic fulfilling of said need. And soon, despite her best efforts to keep her mind focused on the act rather than any fantasy, memories of that night had pushed their way to prominence. She had not fought them, surrendering to her desire, any guilt kept at bay until after orgasm.
That was a few weeks ago. Now, she blew out another frustrated sigh, again cursing her drunken stupidity. The surge of guilt, as usual, ensured sleep would not come easily.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Footfalls slapped the concrete, complementing the music trickling from Kayla's phone. The campus gates waited a few yards away, marking the end of her run.
She came gradually to a stop once through them and slowed to a brisk walk.
Even with the exertion and the music, her thoughts still found their way to Victor. She shook her head in frustration to banish memories of that night, the familiar surge of guilt frothing in her chest. It did not matter where she was these days; in class, at dinner, at the gym, those memories could come without notice, accompanied by guilt and occasionally a spark of desire. The former usually overwhelmed the latter, thankfully, except at night.
It's not like I want to think about him. It just...happens.
Even the smallest spark was worrying. Thanks to Connor's chastity, she had not had sex in almost two years before that night with Victor. And although she had never felt starved for sex, her body seemed hungry for more of what Victor could give, starved on her behalf.
"Kayla!" someone called from one of the cars parked at the curb.
She turned her head, and stopped short. Her heartbeat picked up, her mouth going dry, her pussy twitching, that last reaction enough to provoke another surge of guilt.
"Victor..."
He stepped out of the car onto the curb. His tight t-shirt showed off some muscles, and her pussy twitched again at the thought of them pressed against her.
"What's up?" he asked, coming closer. "How've you been?"
She took an instinctive step back, even as one of those pesky sparks of desire arose.
"What're you doing here?" she asked numbly.
"I work on campus, remember?"
"Oh...right."
"So, how've you been? Was thinking about you."
She nodded, still numb, frozen in place despite the knowledge that she should walk away.
"Have you been thinking about me?" he asked, smirking. "I hope you have been."
"I shouldn't be here," she said out loud, as if to remind herself.
"Where do you need to be?" he asked in slight confusion. "I can give you a ride real quick if you want."
Her pussy twitched again at the thought of the two of them alone in the car.
"No, I mean...I shouldn't be talking to you..."
She managed to move, but was too busy staring at him to pay attention to her feet.
One tumble later, and she was in a heap on the ground.
He was at her side before she could react, helping her up. Just his hands on her arm and hip summoned dangerous memories of their night together.
"I got you," he assured her, bringing her closer to him, letting her rest against his chest.
She stiffened, a few jumbled thoughts screaming for her to flee, a few others clamoring for her to get into the car with him and go find a secluded spot.
"You alright, Kayla? You're super tense."
She pushed away from him, and this time, managed to stride away, ignoring him calling after her.
___________________________________________________________________________________
"Maybe I should just tell Connor. Get it off my chest."
"Fuck that," Michelle shot back.
"He's my boyfriend. He deserves to know."
"It was a one-time mistake," Stacy spoke up from next to Kayla, comforting hand on her back. "You messed up, and you know you did, but you won't do it again, right?"
"A little part of me wanted to get into his car," she admitted, her lip trembling from the shame of that confession.
"Maybe you should've," Michelle murmured.
"You're not helping," Stacy told her sharply.
"Why should she be thinking about Connor? He's barely even made out with her and they've been dating for how long?"
Stacy rolled her eyes and looked back to Kayla.
"Look, what matters is you didn't get into his car. Michelle might've just bent over the hood right then and there, but you resisted the temptation. That's gotta count for something."
"Maybe..."
"Fucking him would be better for her than agonizing over last time," Michelle told Stacy. "If she doesn't have another good time, then don't do it again, but if she has a blast, then who cares about Connor?"
"I care about Connor," Kayla said firmly, through tears threatening to fall.
"You know I don't agree with her that you should fuck him again," Stacy continued. "But I don't think you should tell Connor."
"But when am I going to stop thinking about what I did?" she asked in despair, those tears starting to fall.
And when am I going to stop being turned on by it?
"Maybe never," Stacy admitted.
"It'll probably fade," Michelle spoke up. "It was only a few weeks ago. I've done shit I freaked out about, but then kinda stopped after a while."
