My friend doesn’t know he’s my [F]avorite memory to masturbate to.

Have you ever had one of those friendships where the mutual attraction is off the charts, but for various reasons you try to just be friends? That’s how it is with my best friend, and he has no idea that I regularly masturbate to memories of him. The unfulfilled desire between us drives me wild.

None of my kinkiest, naughtiest, most passionate experiences with other partners can turn me on half as much as thinking about this memory of the time my friend *almost* fucked me. (Check my other post if you want a bit more backstory):

The summer night had been warm as we slept side by side in his bed. We both started to wake slowly just as dawn was breaking.

I began lightly running my hand over his naked chest and stomach, luxuriating in the sensation. Glancing down, I could see his thick morning erection bulging in the blue boxer briefs he wore. I kept my touch soft and innocent but the unspoken tension between us was building, crumbling his resistance with each passing moment.

Impulsively he grabbed my hand and roughly placed it on his cock. I gasped and let out a little moan, gently exploring and squeezing his hardness through the tight fabric.

My touch gradually became firmer, more urgent, until I finally slipped my fingers under his waistband and pulled him free. He lay still, but the heavy breathing and slight sighs in the back of his throat betrayed the effect my touch had on him.

He felt so good in my hand and my arousal was intensifying. I caressed his shaft and reached down to cup his balls, progressing to languid but firm strokes, circling my palm around his tip, feeling his precum spreading each time.

Still lying on my back, I bent my leg over his, placing my foot between his knees. I wore a short silk chemise which slid up around my hips as I moved. His hand found my bare thigh and began gripping and releasing my soft flesh.

At this point he abruptly sat up. “We should stop” he said, his voice deep and ragged. I whispered, “It’s ok, trust me. I want you. Do you want to just touch me a little? I’m so wet.”

With a moan, he quickly rolled over onto his side, turning his hips toward me. In the same motion his hand gripped his erection, which he guided beneath my thigh. Suddenly I could feel the heat of his cock against my skin. As he held himself between my legs, he used two fingers to push aside my lace thong, exposing my wetness.

After this flurry of movement, before I really knew what was happening, he hesitated, only millimeters away from entering me. This moment bloomed and expanded between us, filled with anticipation and heavy breathing…

And then it was over. He groaned and growled under his breath, “We shouldn’t do this,” tucking himself into his briefs and settling back onto his pillow. I sighed and turned toward him, placing my hand on his chest. The early morning sunlight brightened the room as our breathing calmed and we both drifted back to sleep.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/lt44i1/my_friend_doesnt_know_hes_my_favorite_memory_to

2 comments

  1. As fan of handjobs, the way you described what you were doing…….I don’t know how he didn’t cum right there. I need some friends like you

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