It’s always much the same. She’s watching the kids so he & I can get our exercise — a nice brisk walk. I leave my daughter at his place and we say goodbye, but I forgot to get my water bottle before leaving, so instead of heading down the street, we go across it to my place. As we go inside, I say I’ll just be a minute, but as I start to turn into the kitchen, he grabs the back of my neck, turns me back toward him, and tells me that isn’t where my drink is. I stare into his eyes for a moment, then the hand firmly gripping my neck pushes downward. I fall to my knees, but he doesn’t let go, just keeps holding me where he wants me.

“It’s right there in front of you,” he says, “you just have to get it.”

My hands tremble slightly as they reach out to touch him. Seemingly of their own accord, they gently trace the growing hardness inside his clothing.

“Go ahead,” he says, and I unzip his fly and reach inside to draw him out, suddenly realizing that water won’t quench my thirst, only him. Then his cock is in front of me, and I can’t look away. The very sight of it is almost hypnotic, driving every other thought from my mind; the world slips away as my universe shrinks to encompass only my head and his groin.

The hand on my neck draws me nearer. My tongue reaches out through my open lips, and the first taste of him breaks my hesitancy. I lose myself in the moment, touching him, kissing him, licking him, taking him into my parched mouth. I hardly notice my needy whimpers as I desperately try to quench my thirst. He doesn’t pull my head toward him anymore; he doesn’t need to — my passion compels me to take him deeper until there’s no farther to go. I slowly draw myself back, licking around the shaft as it slides out of my lips, then plunge forward again. Every so often, I let him slip out of my mouth so I can run my lips along him and caress him with my breath, or lick him all over, savoring the salty, masculine taste. Then I need him back in my mouth, an invasion I can’t bear to resist.

I continue for both an eternity and a mere moment, then his hand tightens on my neck. My hands fly to his shaft so its entirety is cocooned within my body, even if only the end passes my lips. I suck with all my might, caress his glans frantically with my tongue, and his liquid floods my mouth. I savor the taste as his body relaxes, slowly easing my grip and pulling off of him while I suck every drop I can get from his softening cock. My head rolls back blissfully as I swallow, then comes forward again, and my eyes flutter open as awareness returns. I can’t resist one last little lick across the tip as I tuck him back inside and zip his fly. I briefly rest my forehead against his abdomen, then look up at his face, hoping that he can see the pleasure and satisfaction I feel shining in my eyes.

He smiles down at me, and the hand on my neck pulls upwards, guiding my to my feet. I tuck my head against his chest while his arms enfold me. I’m grateful that he doesn’t try to kiss me; this way, I can let the sensations of his taste and texture slowly fade away. As they die at last, the world comes rushing back, and I stiffen slightly. Sensing the moment has ended, he releases me. Neither of us speaks as I get my water bottle, meet him at the door, and lock up, then walk with him up my driveway and down the street.

I’m always uncomfortable after these moments. I crave the passion, but the aftermath is a war with the worldly morals I can’t seem to escape. The experience slowly tucks itself into a little box in my mind, and as we reach the corner, I can smile and take up our usual conversations again. But beneath the comfort of our friendship, I still feel the ember burning, and know that he can — and will — bring out the flames again.