Okay, so I’ve already told the stories about the first two times (if you’ve read them, you know how wild it was). But this? This was number three. And it should not have happened.

He’s in his 40's. I’m 19. And he’s one of those older guys who never flirts just looks. You feel it. It’s in the eye contact. The way he watches your body like he’s already undressing you. That slow tension that says “if I had you, I’d ruin you.”

Anyway. I’d seen him around again lately. Same gym. Except now? He has a girlfriend. Blonde, fit, always holding his hand. I saw them once in the smoothie bar, her in leggings, him with his hand on her lower back like she was his.

And I should’ve left it alone.

But I didn’t.

That night I posted a gym thirst trap to my story sweaty crop top, tits half spilling out, caption said “no distractions, just progress” with the eye-roll emoji. He responded in two minutes.

“You know what you’re doing posting that.”

I replied, “If you didn’t want to see it, you wouldn’t be watching.”

He left it on read. But I knew. That tension doesn’t just disappear. You don’t forget someone’s mouth when it’s been between your legs twice.

Later that night, he texted: “I can come by. But only for a little. I’m not staying.”

No heart emoji. No flirt. Just that.

I opened the door in nothing but a big tee and no panties. He didn’t say a word. Just walked in like he was already mad at himself.

“Is she waiting for you?” I asked, teasing, brushing past him so he’d feel I was bare underneath. He grabbed my wrist hard.

“Don’t,” he said. “This is the last time.”

But his hand slid down anyway, gripping my ass, pulling me into his chest. I could feel how hard he already was.

We didn’t even make it to my bed. He shoved me up against the wall in the hallway, his mouth crashing into mine like he’d been starving since the last time. It was rough. Urgent. Like he hated himself for wanting me.

His hands slid under the tee, found my nipples, pinched hard. I gasped.

“You’re not wearing anything,” he muttered.

“You knew I wouldn’t be.”

He spun me around, pushed me up against the wall, and yanked the shirt over my head. My cheek was pressed flat to the cool plaster as he kicked my legs apart from behind. He didn’t even undress, just unzipped and shoved his pants down enough to free himself.

The first thrust was brutal. So deep I cried out.

“Shut up,” he growled, hand over my mouth, hips snapping into me like he couldn’t hold back anymore. “You’re gonna make me fuck you so hard she’s gonna feel it.”

And he did. He fucked me like he was trying to burn it out of himself. Each thrust slammed me into the wall, my tits bouncing with the rhythm, my moans muffled against his palm. I was soaking. It was filthy. Wet sounds echoing off the hallway. His other hand wrapped around my throat and squeezed as he whispered:

“You’re such a little fucking problem.”

He pulled out and dropped to his knees, turned me around, and shoved his tongue in me like he wanted to drown in it. He sucked, licked, fingered me with two thick fingers until I was shaking, crying out his name, trying not to collapse.

When I came, it was hard. My legs gave out and he caught me, lifted me up like I was nothing, and carried me to the couch.

He laid me back, spread my legs wide, and slammed back into me deeper this time. Slower. His eyes never left mine. He was whispering things he shouldn’t be saying.

“No one fucks me like this.”
“She doesn’t even moan.”
“You ruin me.”

I wrapped my legs around his back, digging my heels into him, pulling him deeper. We were both so close. He reached down and rubbed my clit hard and fast.

“Cum for me, baby. You know you want to.”

And I did. Legs shaking, body arching, crying out his name like it was the only word I knew. He groaned deep, thrust one more time, and spilled inside me.

We lay there. Sweaty. Tangled. Silent.

After a few minutes, he sat up, wiped himself down, and got dressed without saying a word. Just before he left, he looked at me, guilt thick in his voice.

“This can’t happen again.”

I didn’t say anything.

Because I know he’ll be back.