Due to their long-distance relationship, my closest buddy allowed me to sleep with her partner but she did have one restriction.

Okay, so yeah... I still think about it when I'm trying to sleep. And I always end up with my hand between my legs.

My best friend has been in a long-distance relationship with her boyfriend for like three months and she's not coming back for another three. We all used to hang out before she left, so I knew him pretty well... and yeah, he's hot. Really hot. And he's definitely not the type to go six months without sex.

She called me one night, half drunk and laying in her dorm bed, and said, "I think you should just fuck him."

I literally winked at her like, "What the fuck?"

But she was dead serious. She said she trusted me, she trusted him, but she knew he had issues. "Just once. Just to help him out. But there's one rule... no kissing. It's too intimate."

That rule stuck with me. No kissing. Everything else was fair game.

She even sent me underwear to wear. Black, lacy, barely there. Like something out of a porno. She wanted to have control over the whole thing, her own way of managing it, I guess.

So I went to his place a few nights later, wearing a hoodie over my underwear and nothing else. My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears I thought I was going to faint.

He opened the door, confused but a little curious. I told him, “She knows. She told me to come. She gave me permission.”

He literally froze. It was like his brain had shut down.

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“No.”

He just looked at me. “Is this… a test?”

I laughed and slowly pulled down my hoodie, letting him see the underwear underneath. “She sent me this. She wants this to happen.”

He kept shaking his head, pacing a little, clearly panicking. “No way. She’s trying to catch me slipping away. It’s some kind of loyalty thing. Some TikTok trend. I’m not falling for it.”

I walked over to him and took his hand, placing it on my waist. He didn’t pull away.

“She told me to take care of you. She said you needed this. Just no kissing.”

That made him stop. He looked at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t want to misunderstand.

But he didn’t let go.

Finally I leaned in and whispered, “This isn’t a trap. She won’t get mad. This is what she wants.”

And finally, finally, he broke.

His hands slid down to my ass, squeezing it through the thin lace. His mouth hovered over mine, so close, but he held back. I could feel the tension in both of us.

He pushed me back toward the bed, and as soon as I stepped onto it, something inside him snapped. His clothes came off quickly—he was already fucking hard, and when I saw his cock, I swear I got even wetter.

He pushed me back and licked me like he was starving. Fingers inside me, tongue on my clit, making me squirm and moan until I was gripping the sheets and begging for it.

And when he finally pushed inside me, raw, slow, thick, deep—I felt it. Like all the months of frustration had spilled out in one thrust.

We moved fast...and really loud. My hands clawed at his back while he fucked me from behind, holding my hips like he owned me. Then I was on top, riding him, my hair sticking to my skin (from all the sweat), bouncing until my legs were shaking.

And every few minutes one of us would almost lean in to kiss me. Our lips would brush, our noses would touch, but we would stop. Barely. We would just breathe into each other's mouths, our eyes would touch, we wanted it so badly.

"Fuck, I want to kiss you," he growled.

And he bit my lip. "We can't."

He groaned and grabbed my throat, thrusting into me harder, as if to punish us both for it. I came on him again, wetting his cock, tightening around him until he passed out and came deep inside me for the first time. No condom. No pulling out. Just full cream, thick and warm, dripping from me as he sank down on me.

But we didn't stop.

We barely talked, just changed positions, kept going. He licked my thighs, slid back in, fucked me in every way, missionary, with my legs on his shoulders, against the wall, on the floor.

By the third round I was sore and shaking, and he was still rock hard.

“Can I cum inside you again?” he whispered, his breath hot on my neck.

I nodded without thinking. “Yes. Fuck… do it again.”

And he did. Over and over. I lost count of how many times we did it. Four? Five? I just remember how full I felt, dripping every time I stood up, his cum running down my thighs.

It was 4am when we finally stopped. We just laid there, bodies tangled, completely broken. We didn’t kiss. We wanted to… so much. But we didn’t.

We both knew that if we kissed, we would cross some boundary that we could never undo.

Instead, he kissed my neck. P