Her Forbidden Confession

--- The call came late—just past midnight—her voice tight with something between nerves and need. *"I have to see you. Now."* I knew that tone. We’d been friends for years, but there was always this undercurrent, this unfinished tension neither of us ever acted on. Until tonight. She was at my door in fifteen minutes, wearing nothing but a thin tank top and tight shorts, her nipples hard under the fabric. No hello. Just her stepping inside, closing the door, and pressing me against the wall. "I can’t stop thinking about you," she breathed, fingers digging into my chest. "About *this*." Her mouth crashed into mine, hot and demanding, her tongue sliding against my lips until I groaned. Fuck waiting. I grabbed her hips, grinding her against my cock, already rock-hard. She moaned into my mouth, arching into me. "Tell me you want it too." I didn’t answer with words. My hand slid under her shorts, fingers finding her soaked. *"Christ."* Her laugh was low, wicked. "Yeah. Now fuck me like you’ve wanted to." ---

I didn’t waste time. My fingers dragged her shorts down her thighs, the wet heat of her pressing against my palm as she kicked them off. She sucked in a sharp breath when I pushed two fingers inside, tight and slick, her hips rocking into my hand. “Fuck,” she gasped, nails raking down my back. “Don’t tease.” I spun her around, bending her over the arm of the couch, her ass high and inviting. One hand fisted in her hair while the other guided my cock between her thighs. She arched, pushing back against me with a whimper as the head nudged her entrance. I sank in slow—just enough to hear her curse—then slammed the rest of the way home. Her cry was raw, desperate, echoing off the walls as I set a brutal pace, her body clenching around me with every thrust. “Harder,” she panted, reaching back to claw at my hip. “Show me—*fuck*—show me how bad you wanted this.” I obliged, driving into her deeper, the slap of skin filling the room.

I gripped her hips tighter, every snap of my pelvis driving her forward, the couch creaking under our weight. Her fingers twisted into the cushions, her breath coming in rough, broken moans. “God, yes—right there—” Her voice cracked as I angled deeper, hitting that spot that made her shudder. One hand slid around her front, fingers finding her clit, wet and swollen. She jerked against my touch, her walls pulsing around my cock. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her thighs trembling. I didn’t. My thumb circled faster, my thrusts turning relentless, every stroke pushing her closer. Her back arched, a high, shattered cry tearing from her throat as she came—tight, hot, clenching around me like a vise. I fucked her through it, chasing my own release, the slap of skin turning frantic. When I finally spilled inside her, she gasped, her body still quivering as I held her down, grinding deep until the last shudder faded. Panting, she turned her head, lips brushing my forearm. “Guess we should’ve done that years ago.”