I was nervous – really nervous. This wasn’t just jitters; my whole body was on edge. Everything about it felt wrong, or at least alien. I was a straight guy about to give a blowjob, and while I’d set this whole thing in motion knowing that, now that it was actually happening, the weight of it hit like a brick to the chest.
Harrison was my oldest friend – probably my best friend. He didn’t really understand why I wanted to do this, but he knew it mattered to me. He hadn’t said it outright, but I could tell he wasn’t going to turn down a no-strings-attached blowjob.
Here’s the thing: I’ve been married for twenty-five years to a woman who genuinely loves going down on me. Jill’s enthusiastic, confident, never submissive about it – more like she’s taking what she wants. She swallows every time, no hesitation, no complaints. Honestly, I couldn’t ask for better.
But somewhere around year fifteen, my brain started asking questions I couldn’t shake: What’s it like for her? By year twenty, it had grown into a low-burning curiosity I couldn’t put down. By year twenty-five, I didn’t just wonder – I needed to know.
I thought about using an app to find a stranger, but between STD risk and the nightmare of someone recognizing me, that idea died quickly. Then it hit me: Harrison. We’d been tight since high school. I knew he’d help me with anything… but this? This was going to be a big ask.
One afternoon, I just laid it out.
“I need a huge favor. You can say no, and I’ll understand – but hear me out before you answer.”
Harrison didn’t even blink. “Anything, man. You know that.”
I exhaled. “You know Jill’s big on going down on me. Always has been. She’s great at it.”
His eyebrows went up. “Not sure I like where this is going…”
“Relax – Jill’s not part of this,” I said, killing the fantasy I could see forming. “And before you get the wrong idea – I’m not gay, not bi, not even bi-curious. I’m not attracted to you or any other guy. This is just something I need to do.”
He stared for a second, then gave a short laugh. “Okay… you’re right. Didn’t see that coming.”
“I know it’s weird. But listen – I’d want us both to get tested first. I’ll pay for everything. And if you agree, here’s how it goes: no kissing, no eye contact, no touching beyond what’s necessary. I’ll show up, do it, swallow, leave. Then we never talk about it again.”
He shook his head slowly. “Jesus, Rob… that’s a hell of a request.”
“I know. But I’m asking.”
Another pause. Then a smirk. “Alright. If you want my load that bad, I guess I can help a friend out.”
We both laughed. Just like that, it was set.
Two weeks later, tests clear, I was outside his door with my heart pounding like I’d run the whole way. I rang the bell.
From inside: “Come in… I’m downstairs!” His voice was casual, like I was there for a beer.
I stepped in. My shoes sounded too loud on the hardwood as I headed for the basement. I’d brought a bottle of water, figuring I might need it after – now it was just something to hang onto.
Harrison was waiting at the bottom, leaning on the wall with his hands in his pockets. He had that look – part amused, part can’t-believe-we’re-really-doing-this.
“I wasn’t sure how you wanted to do this,” he said, nodding toward the far couch. “That one’s the most comfortable.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “But… no talking now, okay? I need to forget this is you.”
He lifted an eyebrow but nodded.
I sat down, pulse in my throat. He stepped closer, unhurried. The loose drape of his sweatpants swayed slightly – practical, I thought.
He stopped in front of me, paused for half a breath, then hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down. No theatrics, no porn staging. He wasn’t hard yet. Average, maybe five inches with a little rise. Somehow, that made it more real than anything I’d pictured.
I leaned forward, feeling my breath warm the air between us. The faint musk hit my nose before my lips touched him – clean, but definitely male. I swallowed once and went in.
The first contact jolted my brain. Soft skin over firmness, gentle give under my lips. Warmth. A faint pulse. I hadn’t expected it to feel this alive. My mouth was too dry; I pulled back, cracked the cap on my water, took a long drink, and went back.
This time, I eased him in slowly, tongue figuring out the new terrain. My lips rolled over the ridge beneath the head, saliva building, taste settling in – warm, salty. My hands rested lightly at his hips for balance, movements deliberate. Months of gag reflex work paid off – not for deepthroating, just to keep my breathing calm.
I fell into a slow rhythm, lips gliding up until only the head was in my mouth, then easing back down until warmth filled my throat. My tongue traced the underside going up, circled the tip going down, trying little variations.
The taste was stronger now, each stroke working more slickness into my mouth until I didn’t think about it anymore. My hand stayed loose around the base, not stroking so much as holding him steady, feeling the faint twitch of blood moving under skin. His thighs tensed and eased with the motion.
I kept it unhurried, noticing the small stuff – the way the skin shifted under my tongue, a subtle temperature change, the faint hum in my ears from holding my breath a second too long.
His breathing changed, quicker. Thighs tightened. I felt the flex of restraint, him holding back from thrusting. Then his shaft pulsed hard – once, twice – and the first spurt hit my tongue, thick and hot. A pause, another pulse. I swallowed on instinct, pulling a small groan out of him.
I’d never thought about how strange it would feel to swallow with something that big still in my mouth – having to work my throat without letting my jaw clamp down. Weird. Surreal.
Just like Jill had said once about the taste: not good, but not awful.
I took another drink of water before I stood. No ceremony. I just headed upstairs.
Five minutes later, I called him.
“Thanks, man,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
He chuckled. “You probably don’t want to hear this, but… that was the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten.”
“You’re right, I don’t want to hear that. I wasn’t trying to be good – just good enough. But thanks.”
“Anytime,” he said. “And hey – if you ever want a repeat performance…”
I cut him off, laughing. “Don’t push it. And yeah – we’re not talking about this again.”
He laughed too. “Fair enough.”
I hung up, head buzzing. I didn’t know if I liked it. But now I knew. The control. The build. The release. The power.
And that was enough.
