You’ve got to wonder which came first; did pornography create the cliche of ‘girl catches guy masturbating, so naturally she offers to help’, or was it a commonplace enough reaction/even already which in turn created the genre of pornography?

I realise this is a largely rhetorical/philosophical question that doesn’t really have a place here, but as I retell the incident which occurred to me I do find myself questioning whether the situation was created by porn and made into cliche, or if it is legitimately a natural reaction and has always occurred?

But, I digress and I haven’t even started yet. I can see the downvotes already. Let’s get to the meat of the matter.

During my second year at university I’d moved out of halls/dorms and into a shared house. There were five of us sharing the tiny abode which featured the fundamentals of basic living, but little else. In total there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and a shared living room. The occupants were; a couple sharing one bedroom, myself and a friend with a bedroom each, and a guy who was friends with the couple who we barely knew (at least when we moved in.).

Now anyone who has lived in student housing will know and appreciate that it’s little short of a den of iniquity. It was the second year of university and everyone was still very much enjoying the freedom from home and taking every opportunity for sexual gratification that was offered. I’m hoping at least that this was most people’s Uni experience, or I’m revealing some home truths that perhaps aren’t as universal as I was telling myself at the time.

Now, for all the multitudes of sex that were had under that roof, with the exception of the couple, none of it was with each other. We were all friends and had ample choice outside to have to risk friendships by fucking each other and in turn inevitably fucking it up.

We did however frequently overhear each other having sex. The walls were paper thin and no one was especially quiet. But this wasn’t an issue, you soon became used to it.

With all this said, let me finally get to what happened. (Tl;dr version of the above - lived in shared house, everyone was getting plenty.)

It was the small hours of the morning. I was too half-asleep/at the uncomfortable mid point between drunk and hungover to register precisely the time, but I’d guess around 4.30 am. I’d been out drinking the night before, got home about an hour previously and immediately fallen asleep on my bed, still reasonably clothed.

Classy picture of myself I paint, I know.

I’d awoken and, as is the way when in that state, found myself in need of a glass of water. So, half dressed, I proceeded towards the kitchen to quench my thirst.

Now in order to reach the kitchen, due to the design of the house, I had to pass through the living room. As I approached I noticed the light was on. This was unusual for the time of the morning, but I gave it little thought. Chances are I’d perhaps left it on myself upon my arrival home. So, without concern, I walked through the room.

Whereupon I was immediately confronted by Lee - the male of the couple in the house - sat on the sofa with his pants around his ankles, cock out and in hand, furiously pleasuring himself whilst watching something on his laptop.

Time momentarily froze as our eyes met. Well, I say our eyes met. I was very aware he was looking into mine, but I’d not at this stage been able to pull my own away from the considerably-larger-than-I’d-have-anticipated cock he held in his hand.

The moment can have lasted a maximum of a fraction of a second in real time, but I swear it felt as though several minutes passed as each of us was locked in place, awaiting to see what the reaction of the other would be before we dared make a move.

Thankfully, he broke first.

He stammered a vague apology about how he thought everyone was asleep and he’d heard me get in an hour ago and so thought he’d have some uninterrupted time. He also felt it prudent to furnish me with the fact the only reason he was doing it was because Jen - his gf - wasn’t feeling well and he didn’t want to wake her but he needed to do it to get to sleep. Or something.

I was only half listening to his excuses for two simple reasons. First; I was half asleep and still drunk/hungover. And second, throughout all of his explaining he made no attempt to cover up. His apology was delivered as he remained steadfastly sat with cock in hand.

Frankly it was more than a little distracting.

A multitude of thoughts were running through my brain at once. First and foremost it was obvious he had zero intention to pack up and leave, and I was torn between apologising myself for interrupting, or feigning some anger that this notion suggested somehow *I* had put him at an imposition rather than the other way around.

But mostly I was thinking ‘how did I not know Lee has a fucking massive cock?’

Which was when, all at once, a million images of ‘caught jerking’ pornography flooded my brain. Ridiculous. It’s a cliche. It only happens in porn. Stop being so unimaginative.

I was about to brush all such thoughts aside when a second perspective occurred to me; If he’s sat there cock still firmly in hand - what if he’s he’s thinking the same thing?!

Maybe that’s why he’s not made any attempt to cover up? Maybe that’s why he’s still hard, despite having been thrown off his stride?

Essentially; was he sat there waiting to see if I was going to offer to help?

Of course he wasn’t. I’d seen too much porn and I was dehydrated. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed to just get some water and go to bed and laugh this off with him in the morning.

“Are you waiting for me to offer to help?”

I swear I didn’t mean to ask him. It was my subconscious speaking. It does that from time to time. It's often alcohol's fault (though not always). Regardless of the source though, it was a valid question.

His reaction was fascinating. If I’d been studying psychology it would have been the topic of my final dissertation. A look of shock, hope, lust, arousal and confusion all rolled into one slight widening of the pupil, and notable twitching of the cock.

“No,” he lied. “...unless you’re offering?”

Reader, I exaggerate not, it took about seven strokes before he came, firing an almost ridiculous volume of spunk mostly over himself, but also across my hand and with several splashes on the sofa for good measure.

I told him this would never happen again, nor would be ever talk about it for as long as he was dating Jen. I also told him he’d have to deal with the jizz stains on the sofa.

I got my drink of water, downed it in one, and went back to bed leaving him sat covered in his own cum with a very confused look on his face.

The following morning I was ready to write the whole thing off as an unusual and surprisingly unsexy sex dream. But the sofa cushions were in the wash and Lee couldn’t maintain eye contact with me for well over a week, and we certainly weren't sufficiently on the same wavelengths to have shared a dream. We were both true to our word though and never spoke of it.

A few months later Jen and Lee broke up. Three days later he asked me on a date.

I declined.