Full disclosure: writing this up on a dare. I could probably give a more detailed account of both my evening and my relationship with the guy in question, but word count being no requirement in said dare, I’m just going to be sketching this thing out in fairly broad strokes. [*Okay, writing this after having completed the post—spoke too soon, lol. Started getting pretty wet by like the third or fourth paragraph or so, and was more or less trying with one hand not long after, even though I sort of have (or thought I had? still do?) mixed feelings about what happened. Anyway, I got a little carried away, so what follows is no novel but it certainly is no cliff notes version either.*]
Junior year of college, winter break. I was 22 (I took a year off) and he was 20. We became close our freshman year, but really got to know each other when we were sophomores. I helped him get over a pretty shit break-up, and he was consistently funny, respectful toward me, and just generally made me feel safe (when it felt like most other guys I’d get in a certain proximity to over a certain period of time just wanted or tried to fuck me). I helped him with a class he sucked at, he did the same for me. He stood up for me when one of his friends was being a weirdo, and we just generally had a good thing going.
All of this is to say, it was 100% *not weird* when I drove over to his place one night during winter break with two big bottles of beer (like those tall fancyish ones — we liked the taste!). And I really mean it. We were friends, good friends, great friends, practically siblings (all relationships feel closer in college). We hung out and drunk on the reg. Nothing has ever been weird. In fact, he was at the time dating my old freshman year roommate, Tess, and even though (I know for a fact) he didn’t tell her I was coming over (in part because her and I had a falling out at the end of our time living together, although we mostly polite/neutral by the time this story takes place), he certainly could have, and she probably wouldn’t have suspected a thing.
*Physical description aside:*
*Him: “Jack,” ~6’1”, fit, really fit (he got kind of depressed/down whenever he didn’t manage to hit the gym at least like three times a week), light blue eyes, dark brown hair, I don’t know what else to put here.*
*Me: “ Emma,” 5’3” or so, also fit, wavy brown hair down to my shoulder blades, hazel-green eyes, well-shaped B-cup, tight bubbly little ass, aaaaand a really pretty pussy, I’ve been told, although that has (almost) no bearing on this story.*
So I showed up at his place in the dead of winter, in our college town where we both lived, and which was sort of empty that time of year, as most of the houses on our block were occupied by students, and most of them were gone away on vacation or spending time with their families back home. So we watched shows and movies and drank and talked. He talked about his girlfriend, and did the thing where a guy sort of tells another girl about how his relationship with his gf isn’t all that amazing, or that the sex is good but he finds her kind of tiresome. I agreed (his gf being tiresome). We also talked about a bunch of random shit, virtually none of which was sexual.
I wasn’t and never have been sexually attracted to him (I don’t think), despite the fact that he is objectively very good looking. By midnight thirty I was drunk, for sure. I felt comfortable, warm, and tickled by the sight of the snowfall outside.
We hit a lull in our conversation, both sitting on the couch. I was sort of leaned up against him—again, nothing unusual as far as we went.
I was relatively drunk and the TV just sounded like background noise. My eyes wandered and fell on his crotch. He was wearing shorts. I swear I saw it, his crotch, move slightly, and he smelled good, so, entirely without thinking, I placed my hand there. He didn’t react outwardly, but I could tell he froze, his breathing halted. I moved my hand slightly and could tell almost instantly that whatever was in my hand was thick and weighty. I bit my lip and continued moving my hand for another few moments, before asking him, point blank, “Can I take your shorts off?” He didn’t even respond, he just hooked his thumbs under his waistband and briefs and yanked them both down in one go.
I started to regret everything the second I heard those words leave my lips, but my regret vanished when his slightly more than half-hard cock plopped out of his briefs, and bounced a couple of times. It was fat, long, and *really* photogenic. Circumcised, maybe eight inches… I’ve never been a size-queen, and have always sort of considered cocks bigger than a certain size pointless, but his wasn’t just “long” or “big,” it looked formidable, *significant*. Half-hard, or roughly, it was bigger than any I’d ever seen in person before. Without thinking twice (can you sense a theme?) I lowered my head towards it.
As I did so, I sort of brought my lower body onto the couch, bending over his lap on my hands and knees, while he’s sitting upright. He didn’t say a word, and neither did I.
I started by extending my small hand and cupping his ball, slowly, softly massaging them (a previous hookup had me start like this with him). Moments later, I pressed my tongue against the side of his shaft, kind of pushing it up and down, before slowly licking up to the head. He tasted nice, slightly musky—I think he’d showered right before I’d arrived. Pretty much fully stiff at this point, I was a little intimidated because it was *really* quite thick. Without thinking twice (again!) I opened wide, my mouth enveloping his head and first inch after that, prompting him to moan. I worked his balls in my hand, flicking and massaging my tongue along his cock. My jaw began to hurt almost immediately (he was fucking big), but I was distracted when I felt his hand travel up (or down?) my back, creeping into my sort of wool tight things, and finding my wet pussy lips, which he began sort of messily playing with, prompting me, in turn, to let out a soft moan, garbled as it was, owing to the cock stuff in my mouth.
I can’t deepthroat, and knew at most I’d be able to take maybe four inches of him in my mouth, so I just worked up a bunch of saliva, drooling all over it, my spit welling up around the base of his cock, coating his balls till they were glistening (glistening all the more when I took them, one by one, into my mouth, playing with them with my tongue while jerking him alternately slowly and vigorously).
After maybe two to three minutes, he withdraw his hand from my sex, and sort of pushed me off his cock—“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he started to jerk his cock (out of best-friendly respect, I think he felt weird about coming in my mouth or on my face).
Okay so you know when you’re at the gym and you feel yourself losing energy, about to crumple on the treadmill, and you just kind of impulsively hit click click click click click on the up button for the speed? And just basically force yourself to run as fast as possible (or else you go flying), to close out your exercise?
Well (okay, maybe this isn’t the best analogy, but…) that’s pretty much what I went on to do to him (in part because I was slightly self-conscious I couldn’t deepthroat, and in part because he just looked like he had quite the load to shoot, and felt the mess and the process of its cleaning up would’ve been a little too awkward for my liking). So I pushed my hand into his forearm, yanking his hand from his cock, and opened as wide as I could, taking him as deep in my mouth as I could muster, gyrating my tongue, dumping and spreading all my drool along him, working his balls with one hand and stroking the bottom half of his shaft with the other. A moment later, hot, hot cum shooting into the back of my mouth and throat. I coughed a lot, teary eyed both from the cum and from taking him so deep. He didn’t say anything, again, and neither did I.
He seemed almost paralyzed, mostly with pleasure, but also with surprise. In part because his taste was surprisingly tolerable, and in part because I liked seeing guys sort of shiver and grow uncomfortable after cumming, I sort of cleaned off his cock and balls with my tongue, sucking gently, using tongue, mouth, and lips, as he groaned, stroked my hair, and squirmed.
I went to the bathroom afterwards, and when I came back, he offered to eat me out, which I thought very kind of him, as guys usually tend to just collapse and turn in on themselves after nutting. I declined nicely, letting him know “we probably really shouldn’t have done that.” We both apologize and forgive each other in turn, and try to be normal for like twenty or so minutes before I opt to head home.
The rest of this story of largely boring and irrelevant. Our friendship eventually got weird, suffered. We sort of ignored what happened for a few weeks, even months. We were mostly still good and fine for that stretch of time. More or less normal. But things slowly crumbled. He broke up with his girlfriend before finals that next semester, and just gradually stopped being the same person he used to be, at least around me—that casual, fun atmosphere that characterized our relationship till then largely withered. Over summer and the following year I’d occasionally get particularly suggestive text messages from him late at night. I returned a few sort of flirtily, whenever I was drunk or horny, told him very frankly once that he had bar none the best, nicest cock I’d ever seen, touched myself a few times (not including right now) thinking about how nice said cock was, but for the most part tried to tone things down between us (that one of his friend fucked me within earshot of him around then, and that I was beginning to get involved with someone else a little later didn’t help things). Him and I were pals to some extent the rest of the way (of college), but also sort of went our separate ways, were no longer in constant contact. Tha end.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/99szwf/that_time_i_impulsively_opened_wide_for_my_best
I just wish I’d had a couple friends like you….
Why did you maintain the non sexual distance between the two of you? The first time was a mistake, sure, but once he was single? You had chemistry, and a friendship underneath the sexual tension that could have been unearthed again.