E1. Straight Friend Asked Me to Blow Him Before His Date
I didn’t think he even knew my name. We went to the same gym: small, 24-hour, no-frills spot tucked behind a strip mall. The kind of place that smells like sweat and pre-workout and plays the same ten rock songs on loop. Ethan? He was the loud guy. The hot one. Always flexing in the mirror, always surrounded by girls, always shirtless by the time he got to his last set. Straight as hell. Walked like he owned the floor.
I kept my head down. Same 9PM slot every night, hoodie on, headphones in. We’d maybe nodded once or twice. But a few nights ago, he stopped me mid-set and said, “Yo Leo, can you spot me?”
That was it.
One set became two. Then a stretch. Then a full workout together. Then it kept happening.
Tonight, we were finishing chest and shoulders. I wiped down my bench. He was messing with his hair in the mirror, shirt off, shorts slung low.
“Got a date tonight man,” he said, tossing me a grin. “Can’t go in too worked up.”
I blinked. “What do you mean Ethan?”
He shrugged. “You know. Pent-up. Need to clear my head. You ever help a bro out before a date?”
I laughed...awkward, nervous. “Like... what?”
He didn’t laugh. He held eye contact in the mirror, flexing a little.
“I’m serious. Blowjob. Quick. You want it or not?”
He said it like he was offering gum. Like this was nothing. Just a favor.
I followed him into the back locker room, heart punching through my chest. Late-night meant we were alone. Fluorescent lights buzzing. Rows of empty lockers. He sat on the bench like he belonged there, legs wide, gym bag beside him. He pulled his phone out, typed something, then dropped it on the bench.
“Girl’s running late,” he muttered. “Perfect timing.”
He spread his thick thighs a little more. Looked at me, eyes lazy.
“Well?”
I dropped to my knees.
He didn’t even pull them down. He made me do it. Tugged the waistband of his gym shorts down and revealed a fat, semi-hard cock already leaking. Bigger than I expected. 8 inches. Uncut. Thick. He smelled like sweat and salt and pre-cum; raw, gym-boy pheromones hitting me like a fucking drug.
“You ever done this before?” he asked, like he didn’t care about the answer.
I nodded.
He leaned back on his elbows, his chest rising slow, lazy. “Then don’t be shy,” he said, watching me like a challenge. “Got twenty minutes before the date.”
I lowered my head between his legs and wrapped my lips around the tip of his cock, warm and already leaking. My spit rushed in instantly, thickening as I eased down on him. The weight of it. The heat. He tasted like sweat and gym heat, the kind of raw, salty grime that clings after a hard lift.
He let out a low groan, one deep, careless sound that vibrated through his chest and tilted his head back like he was just stretching out after a long lift. Like this was routine.
I started slow, easing him deeper inch by inch, letting his cock swell in my mouth until he was hard enough to ache. My tongue worked under the head, circling, teasing the slit. Every twitch made me hungrier. Every pulse told me he liked it, even if he didn’t say a word.
He didn’t move. Didn’t guide me. Just sat there with his legs spread and his cock in my mouth like it belonged there. Eyes half-lidded, breathing steady, watching me take care of it like I was nothing but part of his warm-up.
He got harder fast. Heavy in my mouth. Slapping against my tongue when I went too fast. His thighs flexed. He adjusted his hips.
“Fuck, yeah,” he muttered. “That’s it. Sloppy, just like that.”
I looked up at him, but his eyes were on the mirror behind me; watching himself, not me. Watching the way his abs flexed every time he fucked my throat.
He grabbed my head when I started gagging. Didn’t push, didn’t stop either. Just held me there, letting his cock throb against the back of my throat.
“Goddamn. You’re good.”
I moaned around him; couldn’t help it. I was leaking in my shorts, hands gripping his thighs so hard they shook.
He started fucking my face slow. Controlled. Measured. Like a workout. Like he knew how deep he could go and how long I could take it. “Thought you’d choke,” he muttered, eyes still on himself. “Guess not.”
His phone lit up. He didn’t check it.
“Gotta make this quick,” he said, voice lower now. “Open that mouth wider.”
He pushed deeper. I choked, spit flooding out the corners of my mouth, dripping onto the tile. He groaned again, this time louder. Breath hitched.
Then he stood. Pulled out. Tugged me by the jaw and smeared the head of his cock across my tongue, cheek, nose. Marking me.
“You gonna swallow?”
I nodded.
He shoved it back in. He didn’t last thirty seconds. One hand on my head, the other gripping the bench, hips grinding in tight, short thrusts.
Then he gasped; short, sharp and came hard. Flooded my throat with it. Thick. Salty. Endless. I swallowed and gagged and swallowed again. He didn’t stop until he was fully drained.
When he pulled out, his cock slapped wet against my chin. I stayed kneeling, throat raw, mouth open, breath shallow. He didn’t look at me. Just adjusted his shorts, grabbed his phone, and muttered, “Appreciate it Leo. She’s downstairs.”
Then he left. Like it was nothing.
The door clicked shut.
A minute later, I got a text.
Ethan: i’ll let you know if that blowjob helped me last longer. might need you again next weekend if the trick works
_____
[Chapters 2-6 are already posted on Patreon early before they drop here]
