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“Yeah, I’ve got plans,” he replied, rinsing shampoo out of his hair. “Beth—that Tinder bitch I told you about.”

“You mean the one who hasn’t yet unlocked her snatch for you after three dates?”

“Yeah,” Tanner admitted, annoyed. “But I think my luck’s gonna change tonight. She’s cooking dinner for us at her place.”

“With pussy pie for dessert?”

“Let’s hope,” he laughed, tugging on his big cock, which had become engorged—a proper chubby.

“You know you can always feed me a load,” I offered, “if she doesn’t put out tonight.”

“I know, bro,” he winked. “I know.”

The brojobs—as he called them—had started a few months prior. Tanner had been having a dry spell—unusual for a man who could usually score pussy by just walking down the street.

“Dude,” he lamented late one night as we shared beers out on the deck. “I haven’t had me some pussy in months. My balls feel like they’re gonna pop.”

“You jacking?” I ventured. “Emptying the pipes?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “But it’s not the same as being balls deep in a wet cunt.”

“I hear you,” I sympathized. “You know my offer stands.”

“Christ,” he laughed. “You and your fucking offer. Sorry, bro—but it ain’t ever gonna happen.”

The offer had started in college, when I came out to my friends. Of my five best male buddies, Tanner was the only one who was man enough to stick around and support me, despite knowing that I like cock.

“You’re not gonna, like, try to suck me off?”he had asked at the time—half joking but half serious.

“Nah,” I dismissed. “I’d never try that with you. But for the record—if you ever wanted me to blow you—you’ve got a standing offer.”

“That’s never gonna happen, bro,” he laughed it off. “I get more pussy than I can handle. I don’t need your mouth.”

And so the offer just hung in the air between us for years—always unclaimed—until that one drunken night when he admitted to a dry spell, his balls ready to pop. We each went to bed and, not long after I had dozed off, I awoke to Tanner in my room—naked, his big cock fully erect and in my face.

Wordlessly, I climbed out of bed, got on my knees before him, and held on tight as he face-fucked me like a five-dollar whore.

“That was good,” he announced after grunting his load down my throat, and then promptly returned to his room.

It became a nightly habit after that—feeding me a load before bed. At first, we never talked about it. But Tanner soon gave up the pretense and started just asking if I was ready for his nightly brojob—sometimes on the couch—sometimes on my bed.

Even when he scored pussy, he always had a second load in his balls for me. Stumbling home late at night, sweaty with the smell of raw sex, his cock tasting like pussy, I would suck him ravenously. Sure, I knew he was using me in a way. But he also needed me.

And he needed me again on the night he returned home from his latest date with Beth, the Tinder bitch.

“How was her pussy pie?” I asked, looking up from the TV as he came in the door.

“Fucking bitch claimed she’s on the rag,” he sighed. “She offered to suck me off, but I declined, stopping short of telling her I could get much better head at home.”

“Come sit,” I invited, patting the couch as I turned off the TV. “Lemme drain those full balls for you.”

“Let’s—let’s go to your room,” Tanner directed hesitantly.

And so I led him to my bedroom, where he stripped down and got comfortable on the bed. Climbing between his legs, I took his big cock down my throat.

“Fuuuck,” he exhaled. “I fucking love when you suck me.”

I proceeded through my usual playbook—some ball work, some tongue work on his shaft, and light tongue flicks to his cock slit before going full-on vacuum mode on his dick. But then he stopped me, pulling my face close to his.

“I want to be inside you,” he whispered, his hand traveling down the back of my athletic shorts, his thick finger probing my tight hole.

Though I sucked him off nightly, fucking had never been on the table. Tanner always reminded me firmly that—though brojobs meant absolutely nothing—having his cock up my ass would cross a line. Fucking a guy, in his book, meant you were gay.

And so I didn’t hesitate when Tanner asked to be inside me. Wanting to grab the bull by the horns—or the cock, in this case—I seized the moment. Sliding down my shorts, I reached into my bed table.

“You’re not gonna make me wrap it are you?” Tanner groaned.

“Fuck NO,” I laughed. “I’m getting lube. You’re thick as fuck. I don’t want you destroying my cunt.”

“I kinda like the idea of destroying your cunt,” he winked as I slathered his big dick with lube, fingering a generous amount in my hole for good measure. I then proceeded to straddle him.

“No,” he stopped me, pushing me off. “I want to be on top.”

“Works for me,” I smiled, loving the idea of being dominated by him. I then flipped onto my back, opened my legs for him, and brought my knees to my chest—presenting my cunt for his use and pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he smiled deviously, his finger probing my hole. And then with one arm supporting his weight on the bed, he gripped his hard cock in his fist and pushed into me.

“CHRIST, you’re thick,” I gasped.

“Now you know why I always make the bitches scream when they’re in my bed.”

Those screaming bitches were never a surprise, but I must admit that I underestimated how much his big cock would stretch my hole—until it was in me. Like any good bottom, I took a few deep breaths as Tanner instinctively went slow, allowing me to adjust to his girth. I could feel my sphincter relaxing, welcoming him into me—begging for him to fuck me.

“You feeling good now?” he asked tentatively, far more tender than I would have ever expected from an aggressive pussy hound.

“Fuck yeah,” I exhaled. “Fuck me with that big cock. Fuck me like you own me.”

As if on cue, Tanner plunged deep into me, my toes curling, my eyes rolling back into my head. He let his weight drop onto me, our bodies pressed together. Like a piston, he worked his big cock in and out of me—at depths I had never before experienced.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered, his breath hot at my ear.

“Uh huh,” I panted, my legs opening wider for him, taking him deeper.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you for a long time,” he growled. “I’d get jealous hearing all those Grindr guys you parade through here, grunting their loads into you on this bed.”

Where was this coming from? Tanner was the one who created the line in the sand—brojobs only, no fucking—and yet he wanted to cross that line this whole time?

Putting my confusion aside, I wrapped my legs around his ass, emboldening him to fuck me harder. His pace increased, my hips moving instinctively with him.

“Fuck, you’ve gotta sweet cunt,” he growled, pounding my hole relentlessly. “And you’re so fuckin’ tight. I’m fighting not to bust.”

“Bust in me,” I begged. “Fucking seed me whenever you like.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I affirmed. “Breed me like a bitch.”

“Ain’t no bitch has ever said that to me,” he laughed, pounding me harder, his cock swelling inside me. “Oh FUCK, dude. I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”

“That’s it—fucking seed my hole,” I demanded, raising my ass, willing him to dump his load in me.

“SHIT,” he grunted, his big cock throbbing inside me, his massive load coating my bowels, warming me from within. “Yeah, fuckin’ take this nut.”

He went still inside me as the throbbing ceased, his balls fully emptied. I stroked his sweaty back, his face next to mine, his warm breath on my cheek. Slowly going soft, he pulled out of me—relieved, satiated—his load leaking from my wrecked hole.

“I gotta piss,” he finally announced, rolling off me, his spent cock still wet and swollen.

“Well—good night,” I offered feebly as he staggered to the bathroom.

“Good night?” he laughed. “Dude—I’m coming back to bed.”

As promised, Tanner returned to bed and fucked two more loads into me before falling into a deep sleep. Never had he stayed the night in my room—even after our many brojobs. It took me awhile to fall sleep, listening to his soft breathing, wondering what this change could be mean for our friendship or, dare I say, our relationship.

Tanner was on his phone in the kitchen when I emerged from my bedroom the next morning, my hole still a bit sore from his marathon fucking—a small price to pay.

“You on Tinder?” I asked, pouring myself a cup of coffee, worried he was already looking for another bitch to pursue—his cock craving pussy and not my cunt.

“Yeah,” Tanner acknowledged, putting down his phone and pulling me into his arms. “I’m deleting Tinder. I have no need for it now.”

And as he bent me over the kitchen counter, pushing his hard cock into my puffy hole, Tanner sighed, “I should have tried your sweet cunt years ago.”