Practice Makes Perfect

Emma's got this guy she's crazy about, and she's all in on leveling up her head game. So she hits up her older friend—one who's been around the block and won’t bullshit her—for a no-holds-barred run-through. He shows up, and the heat’s immediate: she drops to her knees, unzips his jeans, wraps both hands around his cock, and starts licking the head with slow, wet strokes. She works the shaft with steady pressure, alternating suction and tongue swirls along every ridge. Spit drips down her chin; he grips her hair, feeding her more. She takes him deeper, relaxing her throat until he’s halfway buried, nose brushing his pelvis, while her fingers cup and tug his balls in rhythm with every bob. Precum coats her tongue—she swallows it down like she’s sampling a secret—and every time she gags he groans louder. His hips roll, using her mouth like a slick, greedy hole. She doesn’t stop; saliva strings from her lips when he pulls out for her to catch a breath, then slams back in, fucking her throat with controlled, filthy purpose. The edge builds fast—she can feel him pulse. Just before he breaks she drags her tongue hard along the underside, hollows her cheeks, and lets him explode: thick ropes paint her tonsils, coat her tongue, drip down her throat while she keeps sucking and stroking, milking every last spurt until he’s trembling and she’s drunk on it. She pulls off, mouth raw and shining, eyes glassy, waiting for the brutal honesty she asked for.