After that night, things between us were… different, but in a way I hadn’t quite expected. It wasn’t awkward like you’d think. In fact, the morning after, we woke up, had coffee, and went about our day like nothing had happened. There was no big, serious conversation or dramatic moment of regret. It was like we had crossed a line, sure, but the line didn’t really matter to either of us.

At least, that’s what I thought.

A few weeks passed, and we didn’t talk about it again. Life at university was busy; classes, assignments, and parties filled up most of our time. But there was something unspoken lingering between us now,l something hard to describe. I would catch her staring at me when she thought I wasn’t looking, and sometimes when we were close, I could feel her brushing against me more deliberately than before.

It wasn’t long before I started thinking about that night again, replaying the memory in my head. The way her mouth had felt on me, the way she had moaned while she touched herself. It had been so spontaneous, so unexpected, but it was also one of the hottest things I had ever experienced.

One night, after a long week of studying and stressing over exams, we decided to have another sleepover. It felt like old times—ordering takeout, watching cheesy movies, and drinking wine until we were both a little too giggly for our own good.

As the night wore on, the energy in the room shifted, just like it had that night. We were laying side by side on my bed again, our conversation fading into comfortable silence. I could feel the warmth of her body next to mine, and suddenly, the memory of her between my legs felt all too present. My heart began to race, and I wondered if she was thinking about it too.

Before I could say anything, she rolled over to face me, her eyes slightly glazed from the wine but focused. She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

“Do you… ever think about that night?” she asked quietly.

I swallowed hard, the tension between us suddenly thick in the air. “Sometimes,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

She let out a nervous laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing pink. “I thought maybe it was just the alcohol, or a weird one-time thing, but… I think I want to do it again.”

I stared at her, my pulse quickening. “You really want to?”

She nodded, her eyes darkening with desire. “I don’t know what it is, but I just… I keep imagining it. Tasting you again. Feeling you on my tongue. It’s like, I need it.”

Her confession sent a wave of heat through me, my body reacting instantly. Without saying another word, I reached for her, pulling her close. Our lips met in a slow, heated kiss, and this time, it wasn’t tentative or experimental. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness.

She pushed me back onto the bed, her hands roaming over my body as she kissed me deeply. I could feel the hunger in her, the same hunger that had been building in me since that night. Her lips traveled down my neck, over my chest, and before I knew it, her mouth was on me again, her tongue moving with the same careful attention as before, only now, it felt even more intense.

She knew exactly what she wanted, and I was more than ready to give it to her. My back arched as her tongue found its rhythm, my hands tangling in her hair as the pleasure built inside me. I could feel her moaning against me, her own arousal evident as she pressed her thighs together. As the tension inside me reached its peak, I grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her up to meet my lips again. We kissed feverishly, our bodies pressed together as I whispered into her mouth, “Let me taste you.”

She hesitated for only a second before nodding, her breath coming in ragged gasps. We switched positions, and for the first time, I found myself between her legs, kissing her inner thighs, teasing her, making her squirm with anticipation.

When I finally buried my face in her pussy, she gasped, her hands clutching the sheets as I explored her with my tongue. She was already so wet, her hips moving against my face as I devoured her, tasting her the way she had tasted me. It was overwhelming—her moans, her taste, the way her body responded to every flick of my tongue.

It wasn’t long before she was coming undone beneath me, her moans turning into breathless cries as she came hard, her body shaking with the intensity of it. I stayed with her through it all, savoring every moment, every taste, until she finally collapsed back onto the bed. Trembling.

She turned to me, a satisfied smile on her face. “I guess we’re even now,” she said, laughing softly.

I smiled back at her, feeling a sense of closeness I had never felt before. This was more than just friendship now, more than just experimentation. Whatever it was between us, it was something real, something undeniable.

And somehow, I knew this wouldn’t be the last time.