This happened last week. I figure this is as good of a place as any to process it

I’ve been thinking about this non-stop since it happened. It wasn’t something I planned or even thought about before that night, but now I can’t get it out of my head—the way it felt, how much he needed it, and how much I liked giving it to him.

Jake and I met at the start of the semester. He’s a senior, set to graduate in December, and we became friends quickly after sitting next to each other in class. He’s easy to talk to, funny, and one of those people who just gets you. Lately, though, he’s been going through a lot. His girlfriend broke up with him in October, and even though he doesn’t say much about it, I can tell it’s been hard on him.

Since the breakup, he’s been joking about being in a dry spell, calling it “his version of NNN.” I always teased him back, saying he was torturing himself, but I never thought it was anything serious.

That night, we were hanging out at my place, watching Netflix and eating snacks. For the first time in weeks, Jake seemed more relaxed, like he wasn’t weighed down by everything he’d been dealing with.

At one point, he made an offhand comment about how he hadn’t “relieved himself” in so long that he might break something. He said it as a joke, but there was this nervous energy behind his laugh.

“You’re torturing yourself for no reason,” I teased, throwing a chip at him.

“It’s not like I planned this,” he said, catching the chip and smiling. “It just... hasn’t happened.”

“You’re making it worse by keeping track,” I said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing. “You’re not the one losing your mind.”

Something about the way he said that stuck with me. I don’t know if it was the wine I’d had earlier, or the way he looked—vulnerable and frustrated—but before I knew it, the words slipped out.

“You’ve been doing a good job,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Maybe you deserve a reward.”

Jake blinked, looking at me like he didn’t understand what I was saying. “What kind of reward?”

My stomach twisted, but I didn’t stop myself. “I could help you out. If you want.”

He froze, his face going red as he stared at me. “Wait... are you serious?”

I nodded, my heart pounding. “Yeah. If you want to. It’s up to you.”

He stammered something about how I didn’t have to, how he didn’t expect anything, but I could see how tense he was, the way his hands fidgeted in his lap.

“Relax,” I said softly, sliding closer to him. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

I rested my hand on his thigh, and he sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body stiffening. I could feel him trembling under my touch, could feel how hard he already was even before I reached for his belt.

“You’ve been holding out for a while,” I murmured, my voice low. “No wonder you’re like this.”

I undid his belt and jeans, sliding my hand inside. He groaned, his head tipping back as his breathing hitched. He was already so worked up that it didn’t take much—just a few strokes of my hand, and he was done, his hips jerking as he came with a loud, shaky groan.

But I didn’t stop.

As his breathing slowed, I leaned down, kissing the base of him before taking him into my mouth. He jolted, his whole body twitching from how sensitive he was, but he didn’t tell me to stop. I worked my way lower, licking his balls, feeling their warmth against my tongue.

“Wait,” he stammered, his voice breathless. “I—I can’t—”

“You don’t have to do anything,” I murmured, looking up at him. “Just let me.”

I sucked gently, letting my tongue explore him as he gasped and squirmed. He was still sensitive, every movement making him shudder, but as I kept going, he started to respond again. Slowly, he grew harder, his breathing uneven as I stroked him with my hand while licking and sucking his balls.

After a few minutes, I felt him fully hard again. His hands gripped the couch, his chest rising and falling as he looked down at me. “Do you think we could... try again?”

I smirked, my hand still stroking him as I leaned up slightly. “Of course,” I said softly, my voice teasing. “What do you think I’m doing?”

I didn’t stop, keeping my hand and mouth on him, working him up slowly this time. His hips started to move with me, his groans getting louder as he lost himself in the moment.

After that first time, when Jake asked if we could go again, I didn’t even think about it—I just smiled and kept going. It wasn’t planned, and I definitely wasn’t prepared for how far it would go, but once we started, it felt like I couldn’t stop.

Jake was still sitting on the couch, his breathing finally evening out after the first round, but his cheeks were flushed, and he kept glancing at me like he wasn’t sure if he should say something.

“Do you think we could... try again?” he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

I smirked, my hand already stroking him gently. “Of course,” I said, my voice teasing. “What do you think I’m doing?”

He let out a shaky laugh, his body relaxing slightly as I leaned down again. I started slow, kissing the base of him before taking him back into my mouth. He was still sensitive, every movement making him twitch, but I didn’t stop. I worked my way lower, licking his balls, letting my tongue move over the warm, soft skin as he shuddered under me.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his voice shaky, his hands gripping the couch. “You’re gonna kill me.”

I didn’t answer, just kept going, taking my time. I wanted to see how far I could push him, how much I could make him feel. Slowly, he started to harden again, his body responding as I stroked him with my hand and sucked gently on his balls.

When he was fully hard again, I focused my attention back on his length, moving my tongue over him, tasting him. His breathing got heavier, his hips starting to move slightly as I took him deeper into my mouth.

“You’re really good at this,” he said breathlessly, his voice cracking slightly.

I looked up at him, my eyes meeting his as I kept going, my tongue and lips working in rhythm. He groaned, his head tipping back as his body tensed under me. I could tell he was trying to hold back, trying to last as long as he could, but his breathing was getting faster, and his hands were gripping the couch so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Where do you want to finish this time?” I asked softly, pulling back just enough to speak.

He swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing even more. “In your mouth?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I smiled, leaning down again. “Okay,” I said simply before taking him back into my mouth, moving faster now, my hand stroking him in time with my lips.

His groans got louder, his hips bucking slightly as he lost control. “I’m close,” he said, his voice shaky, his body tensing even more.

I didn’t stop, moving faster, deeper, until he groaned loudly, his whole body jerking as he came. I stayed with him, taking everything, my lips still wrapped around him as he gasped and shuddered.

Even after he finished, I didn’t pull away. I slowed down, my tongue moving over him lazily, my hand stroking him gently as he twitched beneath me. After a moment, I moved lower, licking his balls again, letting my tongue and lips explore him while he tried to catch his breath.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he muttered, his voice breathless and weak, but he didn’t tell me to stop.

I spent a long time there, sucking and licking him lazily, enjoying the way he twitched and shivered with every touch. His hands stayed on the couch, gripping the edge like he needed to hold on to something, his breathing slowing but never fully evening out.

Eventually, my phone buzzed on the coffee table, and I saw my dad’s name on the screen. I pulled back, sitting up quickly and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Sorry,” I said, laughing nervously. “I have to take this.”

Jake nodded, still looking dazed, his body limp against the couch.

I stepped into the kitchen to answer the call, trying to steady my voice as I said, “Hey, Dad.”

We chatted for a few minutes—nothing serious, just him checking in—but the whole time, I could still feel the heat in my cheeks and the way my body buzzed from everything that had just happened.

When I got off the phone, I went back to the living room and grabbed my stuff. “I should probably head out,” I said, smiling at Jake.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, his voice quiet but warm, like he was still trying to process everything.

As I left, I couldn’t stop thinking about how intense it all felt, how raw and overwhelming it was. Even now, I can’t stop replaying it in my head—the way he looked at me, the way he sounded, and how much I liked having that kind of control over him.

I don’t know what it says about me that I enjoyed it so much. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but part of me doesn’t regret it.