+18 years

Forbidden Night

Forbidden Night, Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash

This is the story of a night. A night when the memory of a kiss a few months earlier leads to a skid.

He’s there, in my lair, innocent little prey who doesn’t really know what awaits him. I don’t really know what he’s doing there either. We’re not alone, and yet, in the back of my mind, I tell myself that what has been started deserves to be continued.


Sitting on my carpet, leaning against the armchair I’m in, he lets me massage his scalp. My fingers gently run over his skull and neck. He allows himself to be massaged like a big cat, almost purring.

At this point, I consider myself with the woodcutter, and he still has a girlfriend. Still, I feel a desire in the pit of my loins that I know all too well.

I continue to caress him, while chatting with my other guests.

Eventually, he joins me on the armchair. His long legs come to rest on mine. And my fingers resume their movement, wandering over his shins, knees and higher up.

What naughty little phalanges they are, drawing arabesques on her burgundy pants. My brain is screaming at me. You know it’s forbidden.

But it’s after 3am, I’ve been drinking more than water and my desires come before my reason. So put a nice chocolate cake in a hungry woman’s fridge… of course she’ll want a piece.

Forbidden proposal

They should have all left the apartment, they should have all followed suit when the first one left.

But he stayed. And when I suggested he sleep in my bed rather than in the armchair, he followed, docile. Did he know what he was getting into?

The panther didn’t help him behave. While he remained in his chino and T-shirt, I slid my skirt to my feet and removed my bodysuit with a theatrical gesture. Decked out in my red lace underwear, I left him in little doubt as to my intentions.

I slid under the sheets facing him. Aïe Aïe it’s not right what you’re doing, Mymy. There’s still time to turn around and leave him alone. No, but I promise, I’m not trying anything, I’m just getting a little closer…

We face each other, and he hasn’t turned at the end of the bed either. He too has chosen to settle almost in the middle. He too has a desire he can’t explain right now.

Palpable tension

Then, as if magnetized to each other, our bodies move closer together. Inch by inch, our bodies move slowly. My desire is growing.

I don’t want to rush him, I want to continue the tension that has kept us apart all night. My whole body remembers the alchemy that brought us together. It wants more.

At last, our noses brush against each other, touching. I feel his breath on my chin. Our breaths quicken. Then, in one last gasp, our lips finally touch. But it’s too late.

I can’t pull back now. My whole body cries out in desire, our lips meet again after more than six months, and they enjoy the reunion. Everything goes fast after that, alcohol fumes making our gestures clumsy and memories sometimes a little confused.

After a frantic kiss, my lips want to taste something else. He removes his shirt, and his pants are quickly unzipped. My lips discover his tall, slim body and come to rest on his forbidden fruit.


I can feel him getting very excited and that only increases my own excitement. He can be a bit brusque though. As if raised on porn, he presses down on my head as if to set the pace.

Easy, young stud, let me teach you that a woman is not a doll. Given our chemistry, we don’t need that to turn us on, believe me. I release his fingers from my hair, kiss him again, and he lets himself go, as if soothed.

But I want more, I want to feel his body on mine, in mine. I want all our flesh to be together again. So I lean over his trance-like body and grab a condom from my drawer.

Face panicked, as if he finally realized what was happening.

“I can’t, I’ve got a girlfriend.

“Yes, you’re right, sorry, sorry.”

I keep the little piece of latex in my hand. For a moment, I feel a little guilty. Then I turn around, at the end of the bed, against the wall, as far away from him as possible. I slip the little square under my pillow anyway. Oh, well, you never know.

One hug too many

He pats me on the shoulder.

“Are you okay? Did I offend you?”

I can hear the concern in his voice. It’s so sweet, he’s worried he’s hurt my feelings. Pain, no, kitten, just enormous frustration, but don’t worry, it’s a cross I bear far too often.

“No, no don’t worry, but it’s best we keep our distance. “

I should have stopped there, yes, that would have been fair, Mymy. We go our separate ways and say no more about it. We forget the little treat and get on with our lives.

Except that at that moment, my body’s asking for more, if I don’t have sex, just give me a little tenderness.

“Can I just have a little hug?

“Yes, of course. “

His lanky body approaches mine, and I can’t help arching my pelvis to snuggle my butt against his crotch. Okay, I know, it’s not at all fair… But we’ll put it down to hormones.

Shall we do it again?

His arms are around me, squeezing me, and I’m fine. The truth is, I could have fallen asleep like that, but I feel his caresses starting up again. He tries to contain himself, and I move his hand against my breast.

But small as it is, it’s having an effect on him. Good resolutions fly out the window with his underpants, and our bodies are happy that passion has once again surpassed reason.

The romp is short, he’s had too much to drink, he comes quickly. The excitement dies down like a soufflé. I fall asleep very quickly. I can’t feel him getting dressed.

When I wake up, he’s sitting with his legs stretched out, hands around his head. His gaze is shifty. His eyes are screaming, “Oh shit, I’ve done something really stupid. Shit shit, what have I done, I’ve got a chick”.

He barely smiles at me, and after a few minutes, he gets up, grooms himself like a cat in the bathroom and leaves, taking with him the one knocked out by alcohol who was sleeping in the second armchair.

Any regrets? I have only one: that we were too drunk, too pressed for time, too afraid of being surprised, in short, that we didn’t have enough time. Because I’m convinced that we’d have plenty of chemistry to spare…