My son and this guy had been close for years. He was over at the house all the time, and I got used to having him around. He was polite, easy to talk to, and became someone I genuinely cared about like family. I never got the full story of what happened between them; all I really knew for years was that one night the police called. They told me my son had gone after him with a bottle and that he defended himself, leaving my son unconscious. Charges were filed and later dropped. At the time they were both 18, and after that, he never came around again.

Years went by. My son and I barely talk now—he’s out of the country most of the time, and my husband is gone a lot for work too. The house is quiet. Then, a few weeks ago, Instagram recommended him as a follower. He’s 21 now. I stared at his profile longer than I should have, and old feelings I thought I had put away came rushing back. After days of debating, I finally messaged him. That’s when I found out what actually ended their friendship: my son had been sleeping with his girlfriend behind his back for months.

Still, I didn’t stop talking to him. I told him I missed seeing him and invited him over for shopping and a movie, adding that maybe we could do a little more now that he was older. When he asked what I meant, I sent him pictures of myself. He came over, and after a couple of drinks, the hugs turned into touches, and a half-apologized kiss turned into something real.

The second I got my hand around him, I realized I was in trouble. It was so much more than I expected. I had to go slow because every time I tried to take more, it felt like stretching around something I wasn’t fully ready for. There was this constant feeling of being completely filled in a way that made it hard to think. I kept having to pause and breathe through it, but I couldn't stop. Once I finally managed to take all of it, the pressure was unreal.

The next day he sent me a picture, and I stared at it way too long, telling him I still couldn’t believe how much there was, how full I felt, and that I needed him to ruin me again. I don’t know what happens next. I just know I stopped pretending.