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 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:
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.