Tommie's cry echoed softly in the room, her body arching off the couch as my tongue teased the sensitive head of her cock. The taste of her precum lingered on my lips, salty and sweet, fueling the fire in my veins.
But I didn't push further—not yet. Instead, I pulled back slightly, my hand still wrapped around her shaft, stroking with slow, deliberate pulls that kept her on the edge without overwhelming her. Her eyes met mine, hazy with a mix of lust and lingering pain, and I saw the vulnerability there, the trust she'd placed in me over years of friendship.
I took her hands in mine, guiding them gently up my chest, over the firm planes of my pecs beneath my shirt. Her fingers trembled against my skin, hesitant at first, but I whispered reassurances to ease her.
'It's okay, Tommie. Feel me. I'm here for you, all of me.' My voice was low, steady, like an anchor in her storm. She let out a shaky breath, her palms pressing flat as I moved them lower, tracing the ridges of my abs. The contact sent sparks through me, my own arousal straining against my pants, but I focused on her—on building this connection brick by brick.
Her touch deepened as I encouraged it, her fingers exploring with more confidence, slipping under my shirt to feel the warmth of my bare skin. I mirrored her, my free hand sliding up her thigh, then back to her cock, exploring it with care.
It throbbed in my grip, hot and rigid, the veins pulsing under my fingers as I ran them from base to tip, smearing the slick precum along the length. 'You're so responsive,' I murmured, my thumb circling the slit, drawing another soft moan from her. Her hips shifted, seeking more friction, and I felt her submission yielding to me, her body opening like a secret she'd kept too long.
I tightened my hold on her shaft, not harshly, but with a gentle dominance that asserted my control. My strokes grew firmer, twisting just enough to make her gasp, her eyes locking onto mine as I watched every reaction—the way her lips parted, her cheeks flushed, her breasts rising and falling with quick breaths.
'Let me take care of you,' I said, leaning in to kiss her neck, nipping lightly at the skin. She whimpered, her hands clutching at my chest now, nails scraping as pleasure built. The scent of her arousal hung heavy, mixing with the faint vanilla of her shampoo, and I could feel my heart pounding, my unrequited love spilling into every touch.
This was more than comfort; it was me claiming the space her ex had vacated, showing her she was desired, whole.
But then, suddenly, Tommie broke eye contact, her gaze dropping to her lap where my hand still worked her cock. Her body tensed under me, the tremors shifting from desire to something else—uncertainty, fear.
'I... I'm sorry,' she whispered, her voice shaking as she pulled her hands away from my chest, folding them in her lap. The words hit me like a cold splash, halting my strokes mid-motion. Her cock twitched in my palm, still hard and leaking, but she shrank back, tears welling in her eyes again.
'Tommie?' I said softly, releasing her immediately, my hand withdrawing to rest on her thigh instead. Concern flooded me, overriding the ache in my own body. She shook her head, biting her lip, her submissive posture curling inward like she wanted to disappear.
'I can't,' she admitted, her voice barely above a breath. 'Not yet. This feels... it feels good, but I'm not ready for more. I don't want to ruin us, or... or drag you into my mess.' Her eyes flicked up briefly, filled with apology and that deep-seated pain from the breakup, the one that made her doubt her worth.
Her futanari body, so beautiful to me, seemed to weigh on her now, the bulge in her shorts a reminder of what had broken her before.
I pulled back patiently, shifting to give her space while keeping my arm loosely around her shoulders. 'Hey, no apologies,' I replied gently, my tone reassuring as I brushed a strand of hair from her face.
'We go at your pace, always. I'm not going anywhere.' Inside, my chest tightened—my feelings for her burned brighter than ever, but I wouldn't push. This friendship, this budding something more, deserved time to heal her wounds first. I pulled her into a simple embrace, her head resting on my shoulder, and we sat like that as the rain continued outside, the tension easing into quiet comfort.
Her breathing slowed against me, and though my body still hummed with unmet need, holding her like this felt right—patient, protective, waiting for when she'd be ready to let me in fully.