girlfriend handjob, that was the whole thing, just her taking her time with me on a lazy Sunday afternoon, no rush, no plan, just us tangled in the sheets with the window cracked open and the city humming somewhere far below. She had me lie back and she knelt beside me, hair falling loose, that soft smile she gets when she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she poured a little oil into her palm, warmed it between her hands first, which honestly almost undid me before she even started. Her nails were long and painted that deep red I love, and every slow stroke was this mix of smooth glide and the faintest scratch, enough to make my breath catch, and she kept this quiet hum going, almost a moan, almost a laugh, like she was enjoying it as much as I was. I remember watching her face more than anything, the way she bit her lip and glanced up at me, and how the whole room felt smaller and warmer, just the sound of her hand and our breathing and the slick rhythm building so gradually I lost track of time. When I finally came it rolled through me slow and heavy, and she just held me there, still smiling, wiping her hand on the sheet like it was nothing, and we lay there not saying much, because there wasn’t anything to say.
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Date: October 24, 2026
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