UPDATE: Me and Brooke 18[MF]

Incase you missed part 1: [https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/anjq2s/passionate_sex_with_best_friend_came_inside_her/](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/anjq2s/passionate_sex_with_best_friend_came_inside_her/)

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Hey pervs, didn’t expect that post to blow up like that. I regret using a throwaway. There were a few questions that I can answer:

Brooklyn is not her real name, she came up with it for the post. We needed one with “Lyn” in it. She introduced me to reddit over the summer, and told me about this sub awhile back. English is my strong suit, and she said she wanted to hear how I’d write about our time together. After reading it, her response was that I was “reserved, and flattered her too much.” I’ll treat this one like it’s one of my comp assignments. We were both freaking out Tuesday night, watching the post rise up and get more and more comments. Thank you all for the support!

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On top of the emotional eruption that was our first time together, during school this week, we’ve been joined at the hip. All classes we had together, we were right next to each other. We haven’t told anyone. It’s good to have a secret, right thousands of pervs? On Tuesday, I went over to her house after school and settled on her couch to watch “Midnight in Paris”, a movie with Owen Wilson (our favorite). Usually when we watch movies, I’m on the right side, and she’s on the left; however, that night she was nestled in my lap, sorta laying down on the arm of the couch. We were wrapped up in one of those softer-than-science-can-prove blankets. She said I kept playing with her hair, absentmindedly. Emphasis on “absentmindedly,” because I don’t remember. When I got home, we both were texting and freaking out about the post.

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Now, about Wednesday and Thursday, it was pretty PG-13. Do you really want to read a paragraph about teenagers making out in the back of a car? I’d also like to keep some things private. If I leak my entire weekly schedule, I’m bound to get caught. Plus, Friday night was much more entertaining. I will say this: I brought her food while she was at work one day, and she came with me to my band practice on the other day. Well folks, readers, dear pervs, strap in. Friday was a roller coaster:

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I woke up from a nightmare, cold sweats. I’ll do a quick synopsis of it: I was in a supermarket trying to run from something, but I was super lethargic and could barely stand. Not the best feeling. I sat up and made the decision to tackle the day at 5:20-something instead of the usual 7:00. I did my routine and was back in my room before 6. I should’ve slept in. I decided to send Brooke: “Morning, nightmare had me up early. Breakfast?” Now, my dumbass got nervous from sending that, because I knew she wouldn’t be responding for awhile. I often think what I have is too good to be true. I thought about what we could do for the rest of the day. Our parents were both here this weekend (but next weekend my parents are out of town from Valentines day until that Monday (And they don’t know about us). Reddit, you will be the first to hear, but a 5 day marathon may take awhile to write). I decided on the standard, romantic, dinner and a movie. I didn’t bother buying tickets ahead of time, because how many people are clamoring to watch “The Mule.” I finally got a text back. . .

Brooke: ): sorry you had a rough start, and sure, what time?

Me: 6:45?

Brooke: sounds good :0)

Today was one of the days that I got to take the car, so I drove out to her house. She came out wearing black knee high socks, a yellow and black plaid skirt, and a black turtleneck sweater, all under a long coat that goes nearly to her knees. She’s on the short side. The breakfast joint was near empty, with only a small group of older folk at the counter. We took a booth near the back. Important conversation after telling her my plan. . .

Brooke: I’m not sure, I know Jane and Milo wanted to see us, let’s just play it by ear?

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Brooke, Jane, Milo, and I all worked at the same mall over the summer (This **isn’t** a foursome story). After running into Brooklyn at the mall on our shifts for every day during the first week, she sent me that “hey let’s hang out more” text. In-between freshman year and junior year we really lost touch, but I was still into her (and she says she always thought I was cute, but she didn’t start getting obsessive about me until this one thing happened, which I’ll describe in another post). The problem was that her boyfriend was super controlling, and she didn’t want to break up over text, but he left at the beginning of summer and wasn’t coming back until holiday break, and funny enough, he had been cheating on her and finally broke up with her that break. Big ol’ mess.

Milo is 21, and Jane’s 19. They both went to the same school as we do, and Jane was already friends with Brooke. Milo was only there when he was a senior and I was a freshmen, but he was a literature and art kid, too. First time we met, me working on a painting, he came in, without speaking, grabbed the brush from my hand, called it shit, and told me to start over. I lashed out. He was a cynic back then and had a sharper tongue than anyone I knew. He’s sheathed it now, but it still licks out when necessary. After my outburst, he pointed out how I was copying what was around me, instead of looking inward (looking back, he probably watched too many movies, too). He had no brothers, so he took me in and mentored me that year. I’m still working through the reading recommendations that he started me on. He’s this real beaming, warm guy, on the shorter side, but with broad shoulders. Large, hairy hands, always looking like he’s ready to wrestle life into his submission. He’s muscular as hell, but loves his food, so he’s a bit padded. Merry guy. Jane, same height as him (tall for a girl), is a near replica of him. She has more of cutting effect on her surroundings rather than Milo’s hammer. Sharp wit, and a sharper smile. Always red lipstick, matching her equally red hair. Moxie. She’s a firecracker, and Milo is a rocket. I love the two of them, love em to death. They’re the only ones who know about us being together, kept it from everyone else. The mall was shit during the summer, but we managed to make it fun. What the hell happened to malls-

Brooke: Play it by ear?

Me: Yeah, yeah, it’ll be nice to see them.

We paid and went back to the car after awhile. We still had a good amount of time, so we parked behind the restaurant and hopped in the back seat. Nothing extreme happened, just making out in uncomfortable positions. We take what we can get. Her lips tasted like maple. That’s actually what she said to me, but it applied to her, too, since we ordered a shit ton of pancakes and ate from the same plate. We haven’t been trying to do anything during school, but we do like to get away from everyone and just be with each other. There’s this hallway on the third floor with large windows that overlook what used to be a garden, but no one takes care of it anymore. It’s covered in snow now, but we like to go up there and sit on the floor for lunch, talking about how if we ever have a garden, we won’t let it look as bad as that one. We’d fix it up if we had another year in high school.

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I drove her home, and by five I was back at her house to pick her up again. I told my parents I was hanging out with Milo. She told her’s she was hanging out with Jane. White lie. She came out wearing jeans, a white shirt, and the jean jacket I had left at her house (I said I wanted somethings between just us (also, I know Denim-on-Denim is regarded as sacrilege, but she made it look so good, *I* couldn’t even razz her)). We pulled up to the mall, plenty of open parking. Bless Amazon. We held hands as we found our way to where Jane works: the store-for-edgy-teens-which-will-not-be-named. She was lounging back in a chair with Milo sat up on the counter. He was wearing his usual drugrug, and she was in all black. Somehow, they both became managers within a year of working in their respected stores, and now they do whatever they want.

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Jane: Hey!

Milo turned around and winked at me, pointing: “The man!” He jumped off the counter, grabbed my hand, and did the classic dude-hug, hands clasped in front of chest, two pats on the back. “You *finally* made a move. I’m proud of you.”

Jane butted in: We’re *glad*, Milo, that they’re *together*. And *ha*ppy. *Bo*th of them.

Brooke was rolling her eyes, and said: You guys need to act like we’re the same people we were a week ago, can you do that?

So they did that. We talked about school and life for awhile, and they had a few stories since the last time we saw them together. We could hardly believe it, but a customer walked in about an hour into our discussion. This gave a break to everything and I realized how hungry I was. I checked the time. No way we’d be able to do dinner and a movie-

Milo: Hey, what do you have planned after this? Wanna get food?

I hesitated: Well, we were thinking dinner and a movie-

Milo: Movie? The hell are you going to watch this time of year, cowboy? (Unrelated story behind that nickname, maybe I’ll comment it.)

Again, I hesitated: That. . . Clint Eastwood one.

Milo: The Mule? I thought I trained you to be a man of taste.

He was laughing pretty hard at me. I looked over to Brooke for help and all I got was a squeeze on the arm and a sympathy smile. She got the cue.

Brooke: We’ll be back in, like, five minutes.

She grabbed my hand and led me out of the store and to the left. She sat me down on a bench and wrapped my hand between hers.

Brooke: What’s wrong, I know that face.

She did. I explained my whole dilemma, how I wanted to treat her really well for a night. She grabbed either side of my face.

Brooke: We don’t have to do what everyone else does. Do you really want to go see that movie?

Damn it. She was right. I was trying to fit this perfect image I had set myself up for.

Brooke: Drop your *preconceived notions* for tonight, *live a little*?

I have a tendency to say “preconceived notions” and “live a little,” so she was throwing those back in my face. I deserved it. (And to the few people who said she sounds “bitchy,” she’s lighthearted, and doesn’t take everything as seriously as most do. It’s refreshing to be around someone who doesn’t expect armageddon tomorrow. She’s fun, I love it.) It was hard to shake my disappointment, though. But she was right. Inner conflict. A stupid conflict. One of those things you can’t just will yourself out of, or suddenly act like you weren’t all pissy five minutes ago. When we went back in, I decided to change my mood with a little help from Milo. You see, Milo keeps a flask on him. He changes it up, but it’s always something that’ll wipe a bad mood away. I signaled to him, and he casually handed it to me. After a sip or two, I had reasoning to be in a better mood. We settled on a dinner joint. Milo and I walked out towards the parking garage so we could bring the car to the entrance for our girls (No way I was driving even after a sip of Milo’s concoction). As soon as we got out, Milo pulled out his cigs. I know Reddit, they’re bad, I’m stupid, and if I get cancer in twenty years you can tell me “I told you so,” but I’m trying to be honest here. I only smoke with Milo, and I don’t even like them. I just feel depressed as hell when he’s killing himself and I’m just watching. We were walking through the snow storm up towards the parking garage (parking garage is for employees of mall and surrounding businesses, parking lot (where I parked) is for patrons), coats kicking behind us. He’s got shaggy, sandy hair, something you’d expect in California. We probably looked tough, or like two losers. No in-between.

Milo: I’m proud of you, you know that?

Me: Hey, thanks man-

Milo: Don’t give me a bullshit response. I’d rather you don’t say a thing.

He took a drag. Hell, I followed suit.

Milo: All summer you were complaining about her “shit-for-brains boyfriend” and how you were begging that he’d act up so you could play hero.

He laughed to himself. I’m not a fan of when he looks right through me.

Milo: Doesn’t it feel better just to play the waiting game?

He was right. We both really wanted to find fights that summer. One night, we almost bought this run down yacht, saying we’d take it to Okinawa and fight people. Or join the navy. Glad we didn’t. After more talk, we reached his car and he looked over the nearby city. We were up pretty high. Give us some hats and we’d look pretty noir.

Me: Do you ever think that Jane is the one for you?

He laughed and rubbed his head. Turned to me:

“Cowboy, ‘The One’ is a falsity. Meeting the perfect someone is great, because you have the best day of your life.”

He took another drag.

“But there’s always the day after that. And no day will ever meet that best day.”

He looked out again. I swear I’ve heard what he said before, probably BoJack Horseman. We aren’t original.

“If you find someone you can tolerate, even when you’re mad, when you’re at your worst you can look at them and find *some* comfort. . . just stick it out.”

He finished his cigarette and stomped it out. Looking back up at me:

“Happiness is hard to come by, and, what I’m guessing you’re asking, is if you think Brooke is ‘The One.’ Well, my answer is: you’ve been dating a week.”

He laughed and slapped my back. I hate when he gets pseudo-philosophical. I only wrote this down because it may throw some salt to balance the sweetness that I lather everything to be. This past week has been perfect. I wake up happy. But like he said, there’s always the next week. I’m not worried, but it is something to take into consideration. Longevity. I believe we’ve got it. All the while, I haven’t touched my cigarette in a mean second. I put it out and tossed it on the ground. We picked them up, and I sat in the back, no seat belt, arm around Brooke. I guess I thought I was invincible next to her. Still do.

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Just remembered this is supposed to be about sex. Don’t worry, it happens later. Quite a bit, too. But, I did say Friday was a roller coaster. We listened to ELO in the car. Brooke sneaked her hand in between my legs at one point, and started playing this game where she’d lean her head against my chest and listen to my heart as she’d slide her hand closer to my dick. She got a riot out of that, but I got her back. During dinner, in some crumby hole in the wall that Milo loves, we were sat in the back. Jane started telling us all about this novel from this author who did this thing, and I noticed Brooke was really interested in what she was saying. I placed my hand gently on her inner knee. She coughed a little and shot me a nervous glance, then nodded to Jane and continued listening. Whenever Brooke went to respond, I’d slide my hand up slower and slower, further and further. After probably five minutes of this, she really started to get bothered. Her cheeks were bright red. Finally, she started on this huge speech to Jane. As I had been doing, I kept sliding my hand up and up, and I was getting real close to the Destination. She shot me a side glance, to keep going. I took my hand away. Her speech ended about a second after I did that. She got up to use the bathroom with Jane, and Milo and I chatted for a bit. Halfway through, I got a snapchat from Brooke, a noticeable wet stain on her panties, captioned “bastard.” She came back out, and when we made eye contact, she gave this smug grin with a cocked eyebrow. Her bangs were all in her eyes. I felt sobered up, so they brought us back to our car, and we drove separately back to their apartment to talk and listen to music.

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We got in, took off our coats, and sat in their living room. They had bought this closed clay workshop and turned it into an apartment, keeping the lower level as a ceramics studio for Milo. With no college debt, and constant Mall jobs, they had a pretty nice pad. Brooke and I were sat together on a couch, her with her white t-shirt and me with my sweater. They keep the heat up, so I ended up taking that off, just wearing an old concert shirt. About 20 minutes into our discussion, Jane shot up.

Jane: Holy shit, Milo, Carbon Man is playing at the Garage. We have to go.

(Note: Carbon Man isn’t a real band. local bands have very distinct names, which I’m trying to avoid. )

Milo: For sure, you guys wanna come with?

Before I could speak, Brooke said:

“No, I’m feeling pretty tired.”

Jane: Okay, well if you guys want to hang around here you can, and if its too late to drive, we have a mattress in the guest room.

Milo and Jane quickly put on their coats and headed out the door. I was very confused. It was unlike them to just leave people behind, and not coax them. They loved social stuff.

Milo: Don’t know if we’ll be back tonight, see ya!

In an instant, they were gone.

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As soon as the door close, my heart started beating against my chest. I had been alone with Brooke plenty of times this week, but only in public places. Now. . . it was just us. Complete silence. My. Breathing. Choked. Up. Brooke turned to me as I took a deep breath, and she was smiling, with fire in her eyes. That little fiend had planned this. Her and Jane and Milo were all colluding, and their mission was a success. No longer was it me making my advances and relishing in her returned love and sexuality: I was on her turf. She had the upper hand. Instant excitement, terrifying. I looked down and saw her nipples were poking out from under her shirt. Brooke was still staring right through me, down to the most vulnerable strings in my heart. Biting her lip. She was basking in the look of absolute astonishment that was on my face. This was her victory lap. She reached her hands out onto my thighs and crawled onto me, sitting up in my lap. Her eyes. She leaned in and whispered:

“Surprise.”

Immediately after, she sunk her tongue into my ear. I tensed up, caught off guard, which only made her moan softly, satisfaction with her power over me. I eased up and ran my hands around her body, tracing the anatomically, perfectly feminine form she has. Entranced. I reached my arms up and pulled her down to my level, hoping we could kiss, but after I pried her from my ear, she continued going down. . . down. . . down. Her hands glided lightly over my chest, down to my belt, sending tingles up from the base of my spine to the top of my head. She freed my cock and pressed the tip against those soft, pillowy lips. Two pink petals. She parted them and slid my cock against her tongue, never breaking eye contact. I dug my hands into the sofa. She easily fit most of it, but had to overcome a hurdle with the last inch. Warmth. Wet. As she slid her head up, her tongue swirled around the shaft. She stopped with the tip just between lips, where she gently licked the underside of the glans. Her gazed deepened as I contorted my body from the feeling. She continued to slowly, dreamily, bob her head, sucking and swirling her tongue up, down, and around. Constant eye contact. Brooke hadn’t put it fully down her throat since the first time. There was no time. I had no idea how long ago it was. Finally, she slowly slid it all the way in, and reached her hands around my hips. Pulling me in, deeper. She held me there, looking up at me. Batting her eyes. She was waiting for me to cum. I squirmed a bit but she kept me there. I was becoming overwhelmed I could feel it beginning to build and build but I didn’t want it to end so soon so I had to say something and I finally muttered:

“Not yet.” Brooke slid back and grabbed my dick with her hand, laying her head against my inner thigh. It was incredibly hard, and sensitive. She smiled sweetly and said:

“They aren’t coming back, you know? I planned this *whole* thing out for you.” She moved up and pressed her tits against my cock. She rested her chin on my chest. She ran both her hands through my hair as she rolled sideways. Some of her spit was wiped against my forehead. She pouted and put my dick back in my boxers.

I got tired of her having the upper hand. I reached down and picked her up, one hand under her knees, the other around her chest. She let out a squeak of delight and wrapped her arms around my neck. I pushed open the ajar door to the “guest room,” which was their library with a mattress on the floor. I laid down Brooke and climbed on top of her. All charades were over. Her game was done. We kissed deeply. I took off her shirt. Her, mine. Me. Brooke. The lines were blurring. I reached down and unbuttoned her jeans, breaking our kiss and moving to slide them off of her, panties too. She undid her bra as I stood and took off my pants and boxers. She rolled over onto all fours and arched her back. Spreading her knees, exposing that tender place. It glistened in the soft light of the room, coming from one lamp in the corner. She turned her head and looked back at me. She was in heat. I felt like half a person standing there. I needed my fix of wholeness. I kneeled down and grabbed her hips. I let biology do its work as my dick rubbed against the outer lips of her pussy, finding its way into that golden, honey place.

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I slid in effortlessly. From this position, the tip of my dick was able to make contact with her cervix. We fit perfectly. She look back at me with wild, hungry eyes. She was biting her lip. I slid out and back in, this time a little quicker. Her ass pressed fully against my pelvis; my dick gently pressed against her cervix; her entire tight pussy wrapped around me: heaven. I began to thrust in and out of her, hands resting on her hips. I didn’t have to pull her in to meet me. She pushed back against me with the rhythm we had developed. Brooke moaned softly with each pulse. Each time I was completely in her, I felt as if we were blending. Completed circuit. The one issue was that she was so much shorter than me, so the angle was getting tough. She laid down to a prone position, my arms propping me up as I continued to push into her from behind. Her skin was no longer stretched from the doggystyle position. As I pushed in, its softness cushioned against me. I looked up at her once I was situated. Holy. She was in bliss. Flush cheeks. Both hands holding her head, keeping her hair from getting in her face. Brooke was looking back at me with complete satisfaction. She wiggled her hips, making her ass rub circularly against my pelvis, all while I was completely in her, and she pressed her thighs together, and she was tighter, and it was too much, and I loved her, and I was so happy, and her eyes, and her fuck me eyes, and her hair, and I was too caught up in my head, and I felt that surge come from within me. I panicked. (Don’t worry I got a second wind.) I jumped out of her but the sensitivity from my heart and head had pushed my dick past its point. Sitting on the bed, I shot three ropes onto the bed sheets, some getting on her calves.

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My heart sank. I came early. I looked up at her. Still laying on her stomach, she was biting the mid knuckle of her index finger, smiling, one calf bouncing from the bed to a 90 degree angle. She giggled and sat up, tying her loose hair back into a messy bun. But still, those bangs in her eyes.

Brooke: Guess I’m too much for you?

The embarrassment had gotten the best of me. I looked down at the pitiful mess I had made. “Sorry.”

Brooke: Hey, hey, I knew what I was doing. My plans *never* fail.

She was grinning like she had just won the lottery. I rolled my eyes and laid back onto the bed. She swung her leg over me and straddled my chest. Her wetness began to slowly seep out of her, pooling in the middle of my chest.

Brooke: You know, I can think of a few ways you could make it up to me.

Each word was a staccato wrench turn, tightening the sexual tension back to its rightful place. She dragged the “me” out and ended with a smug grin. An eyebrow raise. I ran my hands up her thighs, stomach, and breasts, and then down her arms into her hands. “What might that be?” I knew what it was. Holding my hands, she raised her wrists up like I was guiding her into a limo. Brooke shuffled with her knees, gingerly, until the focal point for her pleasure was directly over my mouth. I reached back and brought a pillow under my head, her meeting me half way, sitting back on her heels. The sinful kiss, wet flower with singular thorn. Cheesy, but more romantic than “I ate her out for awhile.” It was wet, warm, and she pushed my head deeper when she’d arch her back, throwing her head back to the ceiling. There was a constant pour of words from her mouth: my name, exclamations, giggling, and short moans. She was getting close, but I could feel my manhood growing back, until it was once again roaring back to the sounds of her whimpers and squeals of delight. I moved my head back and pushed her so she could feel it. The warm embers behind her eyes exploded back into bonfires. She moved back and kneeled above me, grabbing my shaft and pointing it right towards her womb. I wiped my mouth and chin off with a sheet. Brooke grinned devilishly and kneeled down onto me. I was sheathed again. Wholeness. She put her hands on my chest and began to ride me. I kept my hands on that perfect curve of her hips, occasionally running them up to her breasts, which looked immaculate from my angle. Why did she bother with bras. Her nipples stood pointing to the wall, wet from either her own fluids or mine. I’m leaving quite a bit out, because at times, we’d be functioning completely off of instinct. We were in a trance and I’m only remembering the highlights. She continued to ride me, dropping back down harder and harder. Brooke enjoys being in control just as much as me. Her face on a power trip is so evil. She dug her nails into my chest as she shuddered, smiling and laughing in satisfaction. I could tell she was getting tired from doing all the work, though. She wasn’t going as far up as she had been. I moved the pillow to against the wall and sat up, still inside her.

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Brooke moved in closer and wrapped her legs around my back, sitting on my thighs. By spreading my knees in and out, I was able to take over what she had begun. Only now, we were eye to eye. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around my neck. She never stopped looking at me. An upward glance of pure affection. I was returning it. My hands rested on her waist, bringing her up and down with each thrust. After a few minutes, I brought my hands behind her back and pulled her in. We kissed deeply, slowly, as I thrusted, deep but slow. Her self tied bun had come undone and her golden, long hair cascaded onto both of us. We had our hands wrapped around each other’s backs, pressed tight, her breasts pressed against my chest, erect nipples jabbing into me. Her breathing intensified. Her denied orgasm from her sitting on my face was coming back to haunt her. I could see it build behind her eyes, stronger and stronger, but it wasn’t releasing. She started muttering “Oh god, oh god” and it kept welling up inside her. I persisted to my rhythm, deep and slow. Her breathing intensified rapidly and she quickly flung herself onto me, wrapping tight, as she let out a loud, quickly stifled cry of pleasure. Her body spasmed and her hands searched my back for some answer to what she was feeling. In several seconds she succumbed and coiled her arms around me, refusing to let go of me, her safety net. After that it was two much, and instead of having the quick javelins of pleasure I had experienced before with her, I had a very slow and building climax as I poured into her. We came into each other and around each other for what felt like an eternity. Her. Me. We were connected, transparent. I was afraid that if I held her any tighter, or vice versa, we’d fall into each other. We were blending, melting. Every single guard wall was done. Total honesty. We needed each other.

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After, she loosened her grip and looked up at me. Without speaking we kissed, no tongue. A seal to the night. I finally spoke, the first time in awhile. “Are you okay?”

Brooke slowly nodded and pressed her head against my chest. “I’m okay, now.” She looked up at me, snarling a bit and saying “But I’m wrecked.” Playful tone. She let all of her muscles go loose and she slid onto the mattress. She smiled up at me. I stood up and grabbed my boxers.

Me: I love you, you know that right?

Once again, my hormones were shot, so I was speaking honestly. You pervs seem to forget I had a crush on her since summer, and apparently she started having one shortly after.

Brooke: I had *no* idea.

She gave a cheshire grin. I rolled my eyes and turned to walk out.

Brooke: Hey!

I turned back around.

Brooke: I love you, too.

I smiled and gingerly walked to their bathroom. I found some pain meds, got some water, and brought them back in for Brooke. I knew she’d be sore in the morning. I helped her up so she could clean up (UTI’s pervs, bad news)s. I texted my parents that I was crashing at Milo’s because of the weather. I doubt they were up, anyway. Brooke, in her expert planning, had already told her parents she was staying at Jane’s. I texted Milo, asking him how the concert was going, but I got no response. I looked at the clock. I had been awake for way too many hours. We slept well that night.

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I woke up before Brooke. I brushed the hair out of her eyes and went to shower. Milo and Jane were crashing at a friends house. I dug around their cupboards and found pancake mix, deciding to make breakfast. Halfway through, Brooke came out wearing only panties and my old concert t-shirt. It form fit her body perfectly. I’ll end it there.

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I’ll be happy to comment on things I may have left unexplained, to some limits~ :)

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ap8y4z/update_me_and_brooke_18mf