Cheated On My Black Boyfriend

Hey guys I need to confess something from two years ago when I was still with my then boyfriend. I've been with him for a six months now, and I genuinely love him. He's stable, kind, and we've built something good together. But he was only the second person I had ever slept with, and as much as I didn't want it to matter, sometimes it did. There where nights I would lie in my bed touching myself, wondering what it would feel like to have someone new on top of me, to feel that unfamiliar kind of desire again instead of something safe and familiar.

Over the past year, I got much closer to one of his friends. We could talk for hours and joke around effortlessly, and we genuinely became really good friends too. After a while, we started talking about sex in the way friends sometimes do, preferences, stories, teasing. Sometimes the jokes became more specific. Hypotheticals about what we liked. Comments that were just ambiguous enough to be deniable.

Then I moved abroad. My boyfriend couldn't visit because of work stuff, but his friend decided to come see me, which my boyfriend was 100% fine with because he knew we were close friends too. I was excited in a completely innocent way, excited to have a visitor and see my good friend again. But underneath that excitement was something else. I had already imagined him between my legs more times than I can admit, I just never thought we would actually act on i

The first few days he was here were normal and fun. We explored the city, drank, caught up, laughed about stupid things. Then one night we drank more than we should have, and the conversation drifted into sex again and only this time it didn't feel hypothetical. We were openly talking about what it would be like between us.

I don't remember exactly how we ended up in bed, but I do remember him between my legs, him begging me to let him eat my pussy. I remember me saying we shouldn't, but my legs didn't close. I hadn't been touched in months, so my body was already warm and my pussy soaking wet, aching for him. When he moved between my legs and started going down on me, I stopped fighting it. I let him, I wanted him there. He also was my first white guy.

The first time was messy, but I still remember gripping the sheets while he took his time, the way he reacted to every sound I made, how focused he was on making me feel good. After he ate me out we had sex too, and when he slowly pushed inside me for the first time, the stretch made me gasp. His cock was so big it made me feel full in a way I hadn't before, I could feel him fill me completely, my pussy stretching around him. I had fantasised about this exact moment so many times and now it was finally happening. The next morning we both felt guilty and we talked about our partners, about how wrong it was and that it couldn't happen again. It happened again the same day

The second time was sober, and that's when it became addictive. For the next ten days we kept having sex, and I was insatiable. I loved being on top, riding his huge cock. I loved seeing his face change when I moved just right. Sometimes I would ride only the tip, then sink back down to feel that fullness again. He loved it too, groaning my name and cursing, which made my head spin. And he too knew perfectly how to move with me, when to slow down, when to push harder, how to touch me to make me shake, to make me lose control. And it drove me wild how instinctively he read my body, how natural it felt

I also loved how vocal he was. He would tell me how tight I felt, how he couldn't believe how wet I was for him. Hearing that from him did something to me. It made me feel bold and dirty and wanted in a way I hadn't experienced before. And when he called me a slut, it didn't feel insulting but like he saw exactly how hungry I was and didn't judge me for it.

Going down on him was just as amazing as fucking. Tasting that big cock in my mouth and I loved the way his body reacted, the sounds he made, how honest he was about how good it felt. That kind of feedback was addictive.

We also did anal, something he tried maybe twice in his life but something I love to do. When he put it in my ass for the first time, the initial stretch was sharp and overwhelming for a second, but once my body adjusted, it turned into this deep, heavy fullness that felt completely different from any other time I had done anal. And he loved it too, he kept muttering how good it felt, almost surprised by how much he liked it, and it was so hot hearing that.

I loved being the one to take him somewhere new, guiding him through it, telling him when to move, when to stay still, when to go deeper... When he finished inside me, knowing I was the one that had pushed him there, sent a rush trough me I can't really describe I honestly could write a slutty confession about every single time we had sex on that trip because each time felt different and slightly better than the time before. It was easily the best sex of my life. He knew how to push me right to the edge and keep me there. It was a crazy time in my life and since then I had several white guys fucking me.