Chapter 27: The Game Continues
"He wanted to play again?" Alyssa asked.
"He wanted to finish what we'd started. I could see it in his eyes. We'd gotten so close the night before, peeled back so many layers, and then we'd both panicked and run for the covers. Now it was a new day, and we were both pretending we hadn't spent the night wrapped around each other. I think he needed somewhere safe to put all of that."
"So you said yes," Joanna said.
"I said yes before he finished the sentence. We cleared the coffee table and sat down on the floor again, facing each other, cross-legged, like we were kids at a sleepover. And he said, 'I'm going to wingman you today. You're going to tell me what you actually want. Not what you think you should want. What you want.'"
Rachel's eyebrows rose. "Wingman you?"
"Yeah. He said 'You've been dating the wrong people for years. I'm going to help you figure out what you're actually looking for.' And I made him go first. I said, 'No, you're the one who needs help. You've been single for how long? You're going to tell me what your type actually is, and I'm going to tell you why you're wrong.'"
Cassie laughed. "And he went along with that?"
"He did. He was surprisingly game. So we started with the basics. What does he look for in a partner. He said he wanted someone independent, funny, someone who could hold her own in a conversation. I told him that was generic as hell and he needed to do better. He said he wanted someone who wasn't afraid to be a little messy. Someone who didn't care if her hair was perfect or if she had crumbs on her shirt. I said 'okay, that's better.'"
"And what did you want?" Alyssa asked.
"I said I wanted someone who could make me laugh. Someone who was steady, dependable. And he just looked at me and said 'that sounds like you're describing a golden retriever, not a boyfriend.'"
Joanna snorted. "He wasn't wrong."
"He wasn't. And I got defensive, obviously. I said 'fine, what would you change?' And he thought about it for a long moment, and then he said, 'I'd want someone who's all in. Not half in, not 'let's see where this goes.' All in. Someone who looks at me like I'm the only person in the room.'"
Mia paused, the memory of his voice, low and serious, sending a shiver through her.
"And I said, 'that's a big ask.' And he said, 'I know. But I'm done settling for less.'"
The locker room had gone quiet again.
"Then it was my turn," Mia continued. "He asked me what I'd change about my list. And I said I wanted someone who wasn't afraid to be vulnerable. Someone who didn't have to be 'on' all the time. And he said, 'so you want someone who can cry in front of you?' And I said, 'yes. Exactly that.'"
"Wow," Rachel said softly.
"We were getting real. And I could feel it happening, the same spiral as the night before. The questions were getting more honest, more pointed. He asked me if I'd ever been in love. I said I thought I had, once, but now I wasn't sure it counted. He asked me what love even was, and I said I didn't know, but I thought it might be the feeling of not wanting to be anywhere else."
"And then?" Cassie asked.
"And then he said, 'you're beautiful when you talk like that.' And my brain short-circuited."
Alyssa leaned forward. "He just said that?"
"Just like that. Casually. Like he was commenting on the weather. And I couldn't breathe for a second. Because he'd never said anything like that to me before. Not once in four years. He'd told me I looked nice before, sure. But this was different. This was 'you're beautiful,' about the way I thought, the way I talked. About something inside me."
"And you didn't say anything?"
"What could I say? I was trying to figure out if he meant it the way it sounded. So I did what I always do when I'm overwhelmed. I deflected. I made a joke. I said 'you're not so bad yourself, big guy.'"
Cassie groaned. "Mia."
"I know. I know. But the damage was done. Because he looked at me, and he had this little smile on his face, like he knew exactly what I was doing. And he didn't call me out on it. He just said, 'ask me another question.'"
"So the questions kept going," Rachel said.
"The questions kept going. And they kept getting rawer. He asked me what I was afraid of in relationships. I said being seen. Actually seen. Because I'd spent so long being the version of me that everyone expected, and I didn't know if anyone would like the real one. He said he'd never met a version of me he didn't like. And I said, 'you haven't met all of them.' And he said, 'I'd like to.'"
Joanna fanned herself with her hand. "Okay, he's smooth. I gotta give him that."
"He's smooth when he wants to be. It took him four years and a bottle of brandy to unlock it, but once it was out, it was out." Mia shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "And then the questions changed."
"Changed how?" Alyssa asked.
"They got physical. I don't even remember who started it. I think I asked him what he noticed about a woman first, physically. He said her hands. Which made me laugh, because of course it did, given the whole back thing. But then he said it with such sincerity. 'Her hands. The way she moves them when she talks. The way she touches things. I can tell a lot about someone from her hands.'"
"And what did he say about yours?" Cassie asked, her voice knowing.
Mia felt her cheeks warm. "He said my hands were confident. Deliberate. That I touched things like I owned them. And then he looked at me and said, 'I bet you know what you're doing.'"
Cassie's eyebrows shot up. "He said that?"
"That's when things got complicated. Because I said, 'I don't know. Maybe. Depends on the situation.' And he said, 'what about in bed?'"
The locker room collectively held its breath.
"I didn't answer right away. I was too busy trying to figure out if he was really asking. And he was. He was looking at me, not challenging, not flirtatious even. Just curious. Genuinely wanting to know. So I told him the truth. I said I'd never been with someone who was actually paying attention to me. That I'd been with guys who knew what they were doing, but not with anyone who was doing it for me."
"And what did he say to that?"
"He said, 'that's the saddest thing I've ever heard.' And then he asked me if I'd ever been with someone who made me feel like I was the only thing in the room. And I said no. And he said, 'me neither.'"
There was a long pause.
"And then I looked down," Mia said, her voice dropping, "and I saw it."
"Saw what?" Rachel asked.
"You know how I said he was sitting across from me, cross-legged? Well, at some point during that conversation, his sweatpants had started to tent. Not subtle at all. Not some little shift that I could pretend I hadn't noticed. It was just... there. This thick, unmistakable bulge pressing against the fleece."
The girls exchanged looks.
"I couldn't look away. I was mid-sentence, and I just stopped talking. And he noticed. He looked down at himself, and I watched the embarrassment flood his face, and he started to shift, trying to cover it."
Mia let the pause stretch until the locker room was so quiet she could hear the buzz of the fluorescent lights.
"But I saw it. And in that moment, I made a decision. A very clear, very specific decision." She looked at each of them in turn. "I was going to choke on that dick."
Cassie's mouth fell open. Alyssa's eyebrows shot toward her hairline. Joanna let out a strangled noise that was half-laugh, half-gasp.
"Right then," Mia continued. "Right there on his floor. Before he could say another word. I didn't know how I was going to get from 'sitting across from him' to 'on my knees in front of him,' but I knew with absolute certainty that it was going to happen before that snow stopped falling."
The girls stared at her.
"Please continue," Rachel said, her scientist's voice remarkably steady.
"I don't even remember what happened after that," Mia said, her voice taking on a faraway quality. "Not the details, anyway. It's like the next few seconds just... blurred. But I remember him standing up."
"He just stood up?" Alyssa asked.
"He stood up. He said something about refilling the brandy glasses, or maybe he was going to check the window, I honestly couldn't tell you. What I can tell you is what happened when he stood."
Mia paused, letting them hang on the moment.
And the pause worked, because they were all frozen, waiting.
"He stood up, and his sweatpants did nothing to hide it. Nothing at all. The bulge was just there, this thick, heavy shape pressing against the fleece, and I could see the outline of it perfectly. The ridge, the length, the way it curved just slightly to one side. And I knew, I knew in that instant, that he knew I was looking."
Mia let her eyes drift across their faces, watching the hunger bloom there.
"The funny thing was, he didn't try to hide it. Not then. He just stood there, holding his empty mug, and let me look. And when I finally dragged my eyes up to his face, he was watching me. Not embarrassed. Not apologetic. Just watching, waiting to see what I'd do."
"What did you do?" Cassie's voice was barely a rasp.
The words hit the locker room like a live wire. Cassie's knuckles went white on the bench. Alyssa's lips parted, frozen mid-breath. Joanna looked like she'd stopped breathing entirely. Rachel, for once, had put down her phone.
"He stood up," Mia said, her voice taking on a hushed, almost reverent quality, "and I stood up with him. I didn't plan it. My body just moved. And he looked at me, this question in his eyes, this 'are you sure' that I answered by reaching out and hooking my fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants."
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
"I pulled them down."
Mia let the silence stretch, watching their faces, feeling the electric charge in the room.
"And I saw it."
"Describe it," Alyssa said, and her voice was hoarse. "Mia. Describe it. Every inch."
Mia pressed a hand to her chest, and the gesture sent all five of them pressing their own hands to their own chests, as if they could feel what she was feeling. And maybe they could. The locker room had gone thick and warm, like the air itself had started to cling to their skin.
"I've known this man for four years," she said, and her voice had dropped to something almost devotional. "Four years. I've seen him in gym shorts. I've seen him in swim trunks at the lake. I've seen him in compression shirts and sweat-drenched practice gear and, one memorable time, in nothing but a towel because I walked in on him after his shower and he panicked and I panicked and we both screamed like idiots."
Cassie let out a short laugh.
"But I never looked. That's the thing. I never actually looked. He was my friend. He was the goofy guy next door. He was the one who stole my fries and made terrible puns and fell asleep in my lap during movie marathons. His body wasn't something I thought about. It was just... there. Functional. Familiar. As unremarkable as my own reflection in a bathroom mirror."
Mia's fingers curled into the fabric of her shorts.
"But then he stood up, and I looked. Really looked. And it was like I was seeing him for the first time."
Her heart was hammering now, and she felt it echo through the room. Cassie's hand had drifted to her own collarbone, pressing there like she could feel the pulse. Alyssa was breathing through parted lips. Joanna's eyes were glassy. Even Rachel had set her phone aside and was leaning in.
"His sweatpants had that drawstring waist, you know the kind. Grey fleece, soft from a million washes, hanging low on his hips. And the way he was standing, the weight of it pulled the fabric down just a little, so there was this band of skin showing above the waistband. That v-shape. Those lines that point down. God, the lines."
She shook her head, fighting a smile.
"I remember thinking how unfair it was. That someone could look that good without even trying. That he could spend four years cracking jokes and eating my leftovers and I never once noticed the way his shoulders filled a doorway or the way his forearms looked when he rolled up his sleeves."
"He stood up," Mia continued, "and I saw the shape of it through the fleece. Just the shape. But the shape was enough. It was heavy. Long. Thick. It curved just slightly in his pants, and I could see how it was pressing down, constrained, waiting to be let out. And I swear, I could feel my own pulse in my throat. In my fingertips. In places I didn't even know had pulse points."
"Alyssa shifted on the bench, her thighs pressed together. Cassie had bitten her lip so hard it had gone white. Joanna's hand was pressed flat against her sternum, her eyes wide and unblinking. Rachel traced the rim of her water bottle in slow, deliberate circles."
"I reached out, and my fingers were shaking. I remember thinking 'please don't let me fumble this. Please let my hands be steady.' And I hooked my fingers into the drawstring, and I pulled."
Mia let the silence draw out, feeling the moment expand, feeling the shared breath in the room.
"The waistband slid down. Slow. Easy. Like he was letting me do it. Like his body was cooperating with mine. And the fabric caught on him, just for a second, on the ridge of it. And then it slipped free."
She looked at each of them, one by one.
"And he sprang up."
The word landed like a slap, and all five of them jolted.
"Ninety degrees. Straight off his body. It stood up and pointed at me like an emperor at the Colosseum. Like it was declaring itself. Like it had been waiting years for me to set it free and it was not going to waste a single second of its freedom."
"Oh my God," Joanna breathed.
"All that length, all that thickness, standing at full attention. Not ashamed. Not shy. Just there. Proud. Unapologetic. His sweatpants were down around his thighs and his cock was just... pointing at me like it knew my name."
Mia's own body was responding now, and she felt it ripple through the room. She felt her nipples tighten against her sports bra, and it was like the sensation traveled, like a wave, because suddenly all five of them were shifting, breathing differently, pressing their knees together, their arms crossed over their chests.
"Describe it," Cassie rasped. "Mia, I need you to describe it."
"It was perfect," Mia said, and the words came out reverent. "That's the thing. I expected... I don't know what I expected. Something awkward. Something disproportionate. Something that looked like a science experiment or a mistake. But it was perfect. It was long, and it was thick, and it was beautiful."
"His body had built him to proportions that made sense. The broad shoulders, the thick thighs, all that mass. His cock matched. It wasn't some aberration. It wasn't comically large. It was just exactly what a man of his size should have. All that heft, all that presence, and it was pointing at me like it had been waiting for exactly this moment."
"I could see the veins. Not in a gross way, in a way that made me want to trace them with my tongue. I could see the flush of color at the head, that dusky red just before the skin turned smooth and taut. It was curved, just slightly, to the up. I could see the weight of it in the way it swayed, just a fraction, when he shifted his weight."
"Weight," Rachel repeated, and her voice was hoarse.
"It had weight. I could tell. The way it hung there, the way it was heavy. I remember thinking 'how is that real. How has this been in my life for four years and I never knew.' And I remember thinking 'how lucky am I.'"
Mia's nipples were so hard now they ached. She could feel it, and she could feel it echoing, feeding back, the whole room humming with it. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her own heartbeat, and the gesture rippled through them like a wave.
"I was sitting in his sweatpants," she said. "The pair he'd lent me the night before. Ass on his cold floor. My hair a mess from sleeping on his pillow. And I was sitting there, just staring at his cock, not even embarrassed. Not even shy. Just completely, utterly gone."
"What did he say?" Alyssa asked, her voice cracking.
"Nothing." Mia laughed, the sound breathless. "Neither of us said anything. We just stood there. His sweatpants around his thighs, his cock pointing at me like an accusation, and I was sitting there in his pajamas, staring at it like it was the answer to every question I'd ever asked."
"And then?" Cassie's voice was a rasp.
"Then I reached out."
Mia couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, couldn't help the flush that crept up her chest to her cheeks.
"I reached out with both hands. And I wrapped my fingers around it."
The words hung in the air like a held breath. Mia's hands were still raised in front of her, fingers slightly curved, as if she were holding something. Something heavy.
"The first thing I felt was the heat," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It radiated off him. I could feel it before my skin even touched him, like standing too close to a fire. And then my fingers closed around him, and I swear to God, my entire body went weak."
She curled her fingers slowly, demonstrating, and five pairs of eyes followed the motion like it was a religious ceremony.
"It was so much more than I'd expected. My hand couldn't wrap all the way around him. There was this gap between my thumb and my fingers, this stretch that told me I was going to need both hands. And the skin was so soft. So impossibly soft over that iron hardness underneath. Like silk stretched over steel."
"Fuck," Cassie breathed.
"He twitched in my hand. Not a big movement, just a little pulse, like he was responding to me before his brain even knew what was happening. And that made me realize he was standing there, totally still, letting me touch him. Letting me explore him. His hands were at his sides, his chest rising and falling too fast, but he wasn't moving. He was letting me set the pace."
Mia's own hands moved unconsciously, cradling an invisible weight.
"I looked up at him. And his eyes were so dark. So dark and so wide, and he was looking at me like I'd just handed him the sun. Like he couldn't believe this was happening. And I said, 'you're so big.'"
"Did you actually say that?" Joanna asked.
"I said it. And he made this sound, this little broken sound in the back of his throat, and his cock jumped in my hand again. That's when I knew. He was sensitive. He was responsive. He was going to be fun."
Mia could feel her own arousal climbing, the familiar warmth spreading through her core. She shifted on the bench, crossing her legs tighter.
"I started to move my hand. Slow, experimental strokes. Just learning the feel of him. And he let out this shaky exhale, and his head fell back, and I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He was trying so hard to be still. To let me take the lead. And I wanted to reward him for that."
"I squeezed him," she continued, her voice dropping. "Just a little, just enough to feel the thickness give under my fingers. And his hips jerked forward, involuntarily, like he couldn't help himself. His cock slid through my grip, and I remember thinking 'oh, he's going to be vocal. He's going to make sounds for me.'"
"He did, didn't he?" Cassie asked, leaning forward.
"He did. But not yet. I wanted him desperate first. I wanted him to forget every polite, respectful, best-friend instinct he had and just be a man who needed to be touched. So I did this thing. I ran my thumb over the head, just lightly, just a whisper of contact. And he made this sound, this 'oh' sound, like I'd punched the air out of him."
Alyssa was gripping the edge of the bench now, her knuckles white.
"His hand came down and covered mine. Not to stop me. To hold me there. To press my palm against him. And he said, 'Mia,' like it was the only word he remembered how to say. And I said, 'yeah, big guy?' And he said, 'I've wanted this. I've wanted you, for so long.'"
"And what did you say?" Rachel asked softly.
"I said, 'I know. I wanted you too. I just didn't know it until...'"
Mia could see it all again, the apartment, the grey winter light through the window, his cock in her hand, the confession hanging between them.
"And then I let go of him. He made this sound of protest, this little desperate noise. But I pushed his sweatpants the rest of the way down, and he stepped out of them. And then he was standing there, completely naked from the waist down, and his cock was just... there. Bobbing in the space between us. And I leaned forward."
The locker room was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat.
"I took him in my mouth."
Cassie let out a sound that was half-groan, half-whimper. Joanna's eyes had gone wide and glassy. Alyssa was breathing through her parted lips.
"Just the head at first," Mia said. "Just tasting him. And he was salty and warm and so, so smooth. And he made this sound when my lips closed around him, this deep, guttural sound that I felt in my chest. His hand came down and buried itself in my hair, not pulling, just holding. Just anchoring himself to me."
"I took him deeper. I remember thinking 'how deep can I go' and just... testing it. Letting the weight of him press against my tongue. And when I hit the back of my throat, I heard him say 'Jesus Christ, Mia' in this wrecked, reverent voice, and I felt the most powerful I'd ever felt in my life."
"Because it was me," she said, and her voice was fierce now. "It was me. I was the one who'd unlocked all of that want in him. I was the one he was moaning for. And I wanted more. I wanted every sound he had."
She looked at her squad, at their hungry, captivated faces, and she let the smile spread across her lips.
"He told me to slow down. He said 'you don't have to, if you don't want to.' And I pulled off him, just long enough to say, 'do you think I'm going to pass this up? I've been waiting for you to show me something real for four years. I'm not stopping.'"
The locker room erupted. Not with laughter or teasing, but with something sharper. Cassie shot to her feet, her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing.
"Who is he, Mia?" Her voice cut through the room. "Who the fuck is he?"
Alyssa was right behind her, her earlier composure cracking. "Four years. You've known him four years. He's not a new friend. He's not some random hookup you met at a party. We've been listening to you describe his cock in poetic detail for twenty minutes, and I can't take it anymore."
Joanna pressed her palms together, almost pleading. "Please. I need to know. I need to know if he's someone I've seen. Someone I've talked to. Someone I've—"
"You've all seen him," Mia said, and the quiet certainty in her voice silenced them. "Every single one of you has seen him. Probably talked to him. Probably thought he was just some big, goofy guy who made you laugh."
Rachel's eyes narrowed. "That's not an answer."
"It's not," Mia agreed. "Because I'm not done telling the story yet."
Cassie opened her mouth to argue, but Mia held up a hand, and something in her expression made them all hesitate.
"He told me to slow down," Mia said, settling back onto the bench. "He said 'you don't have to, if you don't want to.' And I pulled off him, just long enough to say, 'do you think I'm going to pass this up? I've been waiting for you to show me something real for four years. I'm not stopping.'"
Joanna let out a frustrated noise. "You can't just—"
"I can," Mia said, and her voice was velvet over steel. "I can, and I will. Because the story is better than the reveal. The story is what made it real." She looked at each of them in turn. "And if you interrupt me again, I'll stop telling it entirely."
The threat landed. Cassie sank back onto the bench, jaw tight. Alyssa crossed her arms but said nothing. Rachel picked up her water bottle and took a long, slow sip.
Mia let the silence stretch, watching them, savoring the hunger on their faces. She could feel it radiating off them. The need to know. The frustration of being so close to the answer and still so far.
"So I took him back into my mouth," she said, her voice dropping back into that confessional register. "And this time, I took it slow. I wanted to hear him fall apart. I wanted to take him apart with my mouth."
She closed her eyes, and the memory flooded back. The weight of him on her tongue. The way his thighs had trembled under her hands. The sounds he'd made, raw and broken, like he'd been holding them back for years and they were finally escaping.
She opened her eyes.
"So I took him back into my mouth," she said, "and this time, I meant it. The first time had been a taste. A test. A 'holy shit, is this really happening' moment. But this time, I wanted to learn him. I wanted to map him out with my tongue."
Cassie had leaned so far forward she was nearly off the bench. Alyssa had her hand pressed flat against her mouth, her eyes huge over her fingers. Joanna was gripping Rachel's arm so tightly her knuckles had gone white, and Rachel, for once, looked like she wanted to be exactly where she was.
"I started shallow," Mia said, and her voice had taken on a rhythmic, almost hypnotic quality. "Just the head. Just that smooth, hot crown sliding past my lips, settling on my tongue. And I held him there for a moment, just feeling the weight of him, tasting the salt of him. And I looked up at him."
Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, seeing it again.
"He was watching me. His eyes were so dark, and his chest was rising and falling like he'd just run a sprint. And when I swirled my tongue around the head, his whole body shuddered. A real, full-body shudder, like I'd hit a switch somewhere inside him. And he said my name like it was a prayer."
Alyssa made a small, pained sound.
"I pulled back, just enough that my lips were barely touching the head. And then I pushed forward again, taking him a little deeper. Just an inch. Just enough that I could feel him pressing toward the back of my tongue. And he made this sound, this low, guttural groan that I felt resonate in my chest, in my cunt, in every nerve ending I owned."
Mia's hand drifted to her own throat, tracing the line of it.
"That's when I realized something. Every sound he made, I wanted to make him make it again. And the only way to do that was to take him deeper. So I did. Another inch. Then another. My mouth was full of him, and his hands were in my hair, and he was saying, 'Mia, you don't have to. You really don't have to.'"
Joanna let out a breathless laugh. "And that made you stop?"
"It made me want him more," Mia said simply. "Because I could feel the tension in his thighs. I could feel the way his whole body was coiled up, fighting to stay still, fighting to let me set the pace. He was trying so hard to be good. To be respectful. He was telling me I didn't have to, but his cock was throbbing in my mouth, and his hips were twitching every time I took him deeper."
She let the silence stretch.
"And I thought, 'he's being so good for me. He's letting me decide. He's letting me take what I want.' And that made me want to give him everything."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"I breathed through my nose," she said, her voice dropping to something almost confessional. "I had this idea that if I breathed through my nose, I could keep my body calm. That I could ease him in deeper without my throat freaking out."
"Except it didn't work."
Alyssa let out a shaky exhale. "What happened?"
"I pushed down. Just a little more. And I hit that barrier. That soft, stubborn wall at the back of my throat that says 'no further, not in this lifetime.' And my body bucked. My eyes watered. I pulled back, coughing, gasping around him. And he said, 'you really don't have to. I'm serious, Mia. This is already more than—'"
She looked up at the ceiling, the memory sharp.
"But I watched his face when he said it. And there was this hunger underneath the concern. This desperate, raw need that he was trying so hard to smother. And I thought, 'no. I'm going to give this to you anyway.'"
"So I did it again. Slower this time. I took him in, inch by inch, and I pushed against that barrier again, softer, testing it. And it still stopped me. My throat clamped down, my eyes watered, and I pulled off him, panting."
"'Mia,' he said. 'You really, truly don't have to.'"
Cassie was gripping the edge of the bench so hard the plastic creaked. "This is torture. You know that, right?"
"It's a story," Mia said, and a slow smile spread across her face. "And stories have their own rhythm."
She let the silence hang for a moment, savoring the frustration on their faces.
"The third time, I got stubborn. I pulled him all the way out, took a deep breath, and I just... went for it. No testing. No easing. I took him in my hand, tilted my head back, opened my throat, and drove down."
The words landed like stones in still water.
"The tip pushed past that barrier, and I felt it give. Not break. Not hurt. Just... give. Like a door that had never been opened swinging wide for the first time. And my throat just opened up for him, and he slid deeper, and deeper, and then my nose was pressed against his stomach and his entire cock was in my mouth, down my throat, all of it, and I wasn't choking."
Rachel's voice was quiet, almost reverent. "You didn't have a gag reflex."
"I didn't have a gag reflex," Mia confirmed. "I'd never known. I'd never tested it. I'd never spent my life thinking 'I wonder if I can deepthroat.' I just... could. All those years of cheer practice, all those hours of breathing drills, all that lung capacity from running and stunting and conditioning. It all just lined up in that one impossible moment."
"And he felt it," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He felt me take all of him. He felt his cock hit the back of my throat and slide in and I didn't flinch, I didn't gag, I just held him there. I looked up at him."
A beat of silence.
"His eyes were rolled back. His whole body was shaking. And his hands came up and buried themselves in my hair, and he held my head there. Not pushing. Not pulling. Just gripping me, his fingers tangled in my hair, his knuckles white, like he was holding on to the most precious thing he'd ever been given and he was terrified it would disappear."
Cassie made a sound like she'd been punched.
"He held me there," Mia repeated. "And I felt the pulse of him in my throat. I felt the way his thighs were trembling against my shoulders. I felt the heat of him filling me, stretching me, claiming every inch of my mouth and throat. And I thought, 'this is what I was made for.'"
"And then he said my name. Just 'Mia.' Just that one word. Over and over, like a prayer, like a litany, like he'd forgotten every other word he'd ever known."
She let the silence stretch until the fluorescent lights hummed loud in the room.
"And I started to move."
Joanna's eyes were glassy. "What did you do?"
"I pulled back. Slow. So slow I could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of him dragging against my tongue. And when I got to the head, I swirled my tongue around it, just tasting him, just savoring the salt and the heat. And he made this sound. This desperate, keening sound that I'd never heard him make before, that I'd never heard any man make before."
"And then I drove back down."
Alyssa's hand was pressed so hard against her mouth that her fingers were turning white. Rachel had set her water bottle aside entirely.
"All the way down. Straight to the base. My nose pressed into the soft hair at his groin, my chin against his balls, his cock completely buried in my throat. And I held him there for a moment, just to hear him gasp, just to feel him shake apart around me."
"Then I did it again. And again. And again. Each time, I swirled my tongue on the way up. Each time, I took him deeper on the way down. And each time, he broke a little more."
Mia's voice had dropped to that rhythmic, confessional cadence again. "His head was thrown back. His hands were fisted in my hair. His hips were starting to move, tiny little thrusts that he couldn't control, pressing himself deeper into my throat. And I let him. I opened my throat and let him take what he needed. And I watched his face, watched the wreckage of him, watched this big, strong, goofy man fall to pieces because of my mouth."
"They were starting to move," Mia repeated, her voice a low, breathy rasp. "Tiny little thrusts he couldn't hold back. And that's when I lost my mind."
The locker room was a held breath. Five women, motionless, watching her like she was a fire they were warming their hands on.
"I had been aiming for a performance. Something controlled. Something that let me prove how good I could be for him. And I did. I was good. But somewhere in the middle of that, somewhere between his fingers fisting in my hair and his hips twitching and that broken, keening sound he was making, I stopped performing."
Her eyes were half-lidded, focused on something none of them could see. "I stopped counting. I stopped thinking. I just… became hunger."
Cassie's lips parted. "What does that mean?"
"I became a creature with one purpose. A mouth and a hunger and nothing else in the world but the taste of him."
The locker room had become a furnace. Cassie's thighs were pressed so tightly together it looked painful. Alyssa had given up on composure entirely, her hand wrapped around her own throat, mirroring Mia's earlier gesture. Joanna was biting her knuckle, and Rachel had gone completely still, her scientist's gaze burning with focus.
"Sometimes I used my hands," Mia said, and demonstrated without realizing it, one hand curling around an invisible shaft while the other rose to her lips. "I'd pull him out of my mouth, hold him against my cheek, and pump him with my fist while I caught my breath. And the whole time, I'd watch his face. I'd watch his eyes roll back when I squeezed a little harder, watch his jaw go slack when I ran my thumb over the weeping head."
She paused, letting them picture it.
"There was this bead of moisture at the tip. Pre-cum, I guess. And I'd smear it around with my thumb, spreading it over that smooth, flushed crown. And he'd make this sound, this desperate little whimper, like I was torturing him. And then I'd lean in and lick it off. Just one long, slow swipe of my tongue from the base to the tip."
"Oh, fuck," Cassie breathed.
"Then I'd take him back in my mouth. Not deep. Just the head. Just that first couple of inches. And I'd circle my tongue around him while my hand worked the shaft below. Up and down. Up and down. A rhythm. Slow, then fast, then slow again. Keeping him guessing. Keeping him on the edge."
Alyssa's voice came out wrecked. "And he just let you?"
"He was past letting me do anything. He was surviving. He was gripping my hair and shaking and making these sounds that I was going to replay in my head for the rest of my life. His hips were starting to stutter, this unconscious grinding, pressing himself deeper into my fist. And I knew he was close."
Rachel's hand had drifted to the neckline of her shirt, fingers playing with the strap. "Mia."
"I didn't want him to come yet. Not then. So I pulled off him entirely. I let him go. And I watched this ripple of panic cross his face, this 'wait, no, what are you doing' moment. But I wasn't done with him. Not even close."
She leaned forward, and the whole group leaned with her.
"I took him in both hands. Both of them, wrapped around that thick, gorgeous length, and I tilted it up toward me like I was examining the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And then I leaned down and I licked him. From the base to the tip, one long, flat, wet stroke of my tongue."
Joanna whimpered.
"I did it again. And again. Corn-cobbing him, my grandfather would've called it. Just running my tongue along every inch of him, savoring the texture, the heat, the salt and the skin and the way he shuddered every time I hit a sensitive spot. And there were so many sensitive spots. I found every vein, every ridge, every little crease where pleasure lives."
Alyssa's hand had slipped inside her collar, pressed flat against her sternum.
"I traced the head with just the tip of my tongue. Tasted him there, that salty, musky sweetness. Then I licked down the shaft, slow and deliberate, and when I got to the base, I took his balls in my mouth, just one of them, just for a second, just to feel the weight of them, the soft, warm skin."
"He made a sound that was almost a sob," she continued.
"And then I took him back in my mouth. All the way. Deeper than I'd gone before. My nose pressed against his stomach, his cock buried in my throat, that beautiful, impossible stretch I'd discovered I could take. And I swallowed around him."
"And then I did it again. And again. And again." Mia's voice had gone hoarse, almost reverent. "For how long? I couldn't tell you. Time stopped meaning anything. I just kept repeating the same ritual: take him deep, swallow, pull back, breathe, swirl my tongue, drive down again."
She shook her head slowly. "By the time I was done, his thighs were shaking so hard I thought he'd collapse. And I knew, in that moment, that neither of us would ever be the same."
Rachel's hand had come to rest on her own throat, her fingers playing with the pulse there. Her voice was quiet, almost clinical, but there was a crack in it. "Did he come?"
A wild, scarlet blush detonated across Mia's chest, climbing past her collarbones, racing up her throat and blooming across her cheeks until it reached her scalp. She felt the heat of it, the impossible warmth flooding every inch of her skin, and a wide, toothy smile split her face. She looked like she'd swallowed a star.
"He did," she said, and her voice came out almost giddy. "But before I tell you about that, I need to tell you about one of the questions we asked earlier in the game."
Cassie groaned. "Mia, you can't just—"
"Trust me," Mia said, holding up a hand. "This is relevant. When we'd been playing that wingman game, we'd gotten to a question. I don't even remember who asked it first. But somewhere between 'what's your type' and 'what are you afraid of,' we ended up on the subject of orgasms."
Alyssa made a strangled noise. "You talked about orgasms before you ever touched him?"
"We talked about everything," Mia said, shrugging. "We were playing a game. A real game. No flinching. So when the question came up, he looked at me across the floor and said, completely deadpan, 'what are your orgasms like?'"
Rachel's eyebrows lifted. "He asked you that?"
"He did. And I think I laughed for a solid thirty seconds before I answered. But then I told him the truth. I told him mine were soft. Slow. Like a wave that builds and builds and then just... dissolves on the shore. Not explosive. Not violent. Just inevitable."
Cassie shifted, her thighs pressing tighter together.
"And then I asked him the same question," Mia continued, and her blush deepened impossibly further. "And he looked at me with this little smirk, and he said, 'I shoot ropes. Like a man should.'"
The locker room erupted. Cassie shot to her feet, both hands on her head like she was in cardiac arrest. Alyssa let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-scream. Joanna slapped the bench with both palms.
"What the fuck," Cassie breathed. "What the actual fuck."
"Who is this man?" Alyssa demanded, her voice cracking. "Who is this goddamn man, Mia? Because I need to know if he has brothers. I need to know if he has a twin. I need to know if there are more like him."
"Anyone else with that energy?" Joanna said, her voice frantic. "Lesser versions are acceptable. I'll take percentages of that. I'll take fractions."
Even Rachel had cracked, a wide grin spreading across her face. "The confidence. He just said that with his whole chest."
"He said it with his whole everything," Mia said, laughing. "And I remember thinking 'okay. So that's what we're working with.' And then we moved on to the next question, because I couldn't handle that one in the moment. I wasn't ready for it. I filed it away."
She pressed a hand to her still-flaming chest.
"Filed it away in a very, very specific folder," she said. "Marked 'for later.'"
"And then later came," Rachel said, and her voice was knowing. "And you were on your knees in front of him. And he came. And you said you'd tell us about his orgasm, but you haven't."
Mia's blush flared again, bright and unmissable.
"Right," she said. "So. The thing is. I was... deeply invested in making him come."
Cassie snorted. "We've established that."
"No, I mean deeply invested in the experience of it. In being there for it. In watching him fall apart. I'd spent so long taking him apart, building him up to that peak, I wanted to see the summit. I wanted to hear it. I wanted to be looking at his face when it happened, watching his expression shatter."
Alyssa leaned forward. "And?"
"And I made a tactical error." Mia's smile turned rueful. "I was so lost in the rhythm of it. Take him deep, swallow around him, pull back, breathe, drive down again. My eyes were closed. I was just... feeling. Feeling the texture of him, the heat of him, the way he'd started to twitch, the way his thighs had gone tight and hard and shaking."
She paused.
"And then the twitching stopped."
Rachel's scientist's brain caught it first. "He stopped throbbing?"
"He stopped throbbing," Mia confirmed. "Completely. Like his whole body went silent. And I remember thinking 'that's odd, why did he go still.' And then I felt it. The pulse. This deep, massive pulse at the base of his cock, right against my lips. Like a drum beating. Like a signal."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"And I knew. I knew in that split second that he was about to come. I thought 'oh shit, I need to pull off, I need to see his face, I need to watch—'"
"Did you?" Cassie demanded.
Mia's eyes were wide, and the blush had crept down to her chest, painting her skin pink.
"I didn't. I was mid-movement. I was driving back down. I had his cock in my mouth, already past the back of my throat, already buried deep. And my body just... completed the motion. I took him all the way down to the base, right as he came."
She swallowed.
"I felt the first rope spray against the back of my throat."
The locker room was a cavern of silence.
"I felt it," she repeated, her voice barely a breath. "Not tasted. Felt. Because I had him so deep that I couldn't tell what his orgasm was like. I don't know if he shot ropes. I don't know if he came hard or soft or in waves or in one single, devastating burst. All I know is that I felt him pulse, felt that first hot rope of him painting my throat, and then I felt his hands clench in my hair and his hips jerk and this sound. This broken, ruined sound that wasn't even a word."
Cassie's mouth was hanging open. Alyssa had both hands pressed over her face. Joanna had collapsed against Rachel, who was stroking her hair absently, her own eyes enormous.
"That sound," Mia said, "is the only thing I heard. And I had him so deep, I couldn't watch his face. I couldn't see him break. I just felt it. I felt the ropes of him flooding down my throat, the pulse pulse pulse of him, the way his whole body locked up and then went liquid all at once. And I swallowed."
A beat of silence.
"I swallowed," she repeated. "And when I pulled off him, when I finally dragged myself up, gasping for air, he was staring down at me with this look I'd never seen before. This look like I'd rearranged every atom in his body."
The silence lasted exactly two seconds before the locker room exploded.
"Who is he?" Cassie was on her feet again, pacing like a caged animal. "I need a name. I need an address. I need to know if he's single, and I need to know if he's got a brother, a cousin, a fucking roommate, anyone with those genes."
"Four years," Alyssa said, her voice sharp and calculating. "Four years, you've known him. He's your height or taller, because he carried you. He's got a big dick and he's confident about it. He's someone we've all seen."
"Someone we've all talked to," Joanna added, her eyes wide.
Rachel was quiet, her scientist's brain clearly churning through possibilities. "Athletic," she said slowly. "You said he was athletic. And he picked you up like you weighed nothing."
"I didn't say athletic," Mia said, a small smile playing on her lips.
"You didn't have to. The way you described him. The shoulders. The thighs. The forearms. That's a man who works out. Like, seriously works out." Rachel's eyes narrowed. "And we've all seen him. Talked to him."
"Not all of us," Mia said, and her smile widened. "Some of you have seen him more than others."
The girls exchanged glances, and Mia could practically see the gears turning behind their eyes.
"Don't even try to figure it out," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "You won't get there. Not yet. Because I'm not done, and the best part is still coming."
Cassie slumped back onto the bench, defeated. "Fine. Fine. Tell us. But I'm telling you right now, the second you're done, I'm going to demand a name, and I'm not going to let it go until I get one."
"You can demand whatever you want," Mia said, and there was something almost smug in her voice. "But I'm getting to the good part first."
She let the silence stretch, savoring the hunger on their faces.
"So I swallowed," she said, her voice dropping back into that confessional register. "And when I pulled off him, when I finally dragged myself up, gasping for air, he was staring down at me with this look I'd never seen before. This look like I'd rearranged every atom in his body."
"And then?"
"And then he bent down." Mia's voice was soft, almost dreamy. "He bent down, and he hooked his hands under my arms, and he just... lifted me. Like I weighed nothing. Like I was a doll. And I was so surprised, so completely caught off guard, that I didn't even think to wrap my legs around him. I just hung there in his grip, my feet dangling, staring at him."
"He picked you up?" Alyssa asked, her voice hushed.
"Like I was nothing. Like I was a feather. And he carried me to his bed and laid me down on it like I was something precious. Something fragile. And then he was between my legs, and he was looking at me, and he said, 'my turn.'"
Cassie's knuckles were white on the bench. "Oh my God."
"I was still in his sweatpants," Mia said, a breathless laugh escaping her. "The ones he'd lent me. And he was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And he hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled them down. Slow. Deliberate. Like he was unwrapping a gift he'd been waiting to open for years."
She closed her eyes, and the memory flooded back. The cool air on her skin. The weight of his gaze. The way his breath had hitched when he saw her, really saw her, for the first time.
"And he just... looked at me for a moment," she said. "Just looked. And I remember thinking 'oh no, I'm about to die.' Because the way he was looking at me, the way his eyes were traveling over my body, I knew that nothing in my life had prepared me for what he was about to do."
Joanna's voice was barely a whisper. "What did he do?"
"He slid his hands up my thighs. Slow. So slow. And his hands were so big, so warm, and I could feel the calluses on his palms from lifting weights, from holding a football, from years of using his hands for something real. And when he got to my hips, he gripped them. Not hard. Just... firmly. Like he was anchoring me."
Mia's own hands had drifted to her hips, unconsciously mirroring the memory.
"And then he leaned down. He pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh. And then another. And another. And each kiss was higher than the last, and I could feel my whole body trembling, could feel the anticipation building into something almost unbearable."
"How high did he get?" Cassie asked, her voice cracking.
"He got to the crease." Mia's voice was barely a breath. "Right where my thigh meets my hip. And he pressed his mouth right there, and I felt his tongue, just a flick, just a taste, and I nearly came off the bed."
The locker room was thick with heat. Alyssa's hand was pressed to her mouth. Joanna's eyes were wide. Rachel had forgotten her water bottle entirely.
"And then," Mia said, and the smile that spread across her face was almost feral, "he moved his head an inch to the left."
"He did not," Cassie breathed.
"He did. And he looked up at me, his eyes so dark, and he said, 'is this okay?' And I said, 'if you stop, I'll kill you.' And he laughed. He actually laughed. And then he buried his face between my legs."
Mia let the words settle, watching the hunger bloom on their faces.
"His tongue," she said, "was a weapon of mass destruction. I knew this man. I'd known him for four years. And in four years, he had never once mentioned that he possessed the ability to absolutely destroy a woman with his mouth."
Rachel leaned forward. "Describe it."
"I can't." Mia shook her head, and the blush crept up her chest again. "I can't describe it properly. Because I've never experienced anything like it. I've had guys go down on me before. It was always a preamble. A polite 'I'll do this for a minute and then we'll move on to the real event.' But he acted like eating me out was the real event. Like he wanted to be there more than anything else in the world."
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the phantom heat.
"He started slow. Gentle. Just his tongue tracing along my folds, barely touching me, like he was learning the landscape. And I remember thinking 'this is nice. This is really nice.' And then he found my clit."
Alyssa made a strangled noise.
"And he did something with his tongue," Mia continued, her voice taking on that reverent quality again. "Something I can't even describe. Something that made my whole body arch off the bed. And he made this sound, this low, satisfied hum, like he was enjoying himself as much as I was. Like he'd been waiting for this just as long as I had."
"He hummed against your clit?" Joanna asked, disbelief in her voice.
"Multiple times. And each time, I felt it in my toes. In my fingertips. In places I didn't know I had. And his hands were everywhere. Griping my thighs, sliding up my stomach, cupping my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers. He was touching me everywhere, all at once, and I couldn't process any of it, and I didn't want to."
Cassie had her hand over her mouth, her eyes huge.
"And then he added his fingers." Mia's voice dropped to a whisper. "Two of them, sliding inside me, crooking just right, curling against that spot I'd only ever touched myself. And he was eating me out at the same time, his tongue working me in these circles, these figure-eights, these patterns that seemed designed to drive me absolutely insane."
"And I remember thinking," she said, "that I was going to die. That this was it. That this beautiful, goofy man was going to make me come so hard that my heart would just stop, and I would die on his bed, and they'd find my body and wonder how it was possible to die with such a peaceful expression."
Rachel let out a sound that was almost a laugh. "You didn't die."
Chapter excerpt truncated at the edge.