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I walked into his room — soft steps, pretending it was just a mistake. But the second I saw what he was doing… hand wrapped around himself, cheeks flushed, frozen in shame — I knew exactly what he needed. And I wasn’t about to let him finish alone. I sat beside him, whispering low and slow, letting my fingers take over. Soft at first — teasing his tip, pulling back that perfect foreskin, watching him twitch with every stroke. I talked him through it, dirty and deliberate, telling him how normal it was… how good it should feel. Then my mouth wrapped around him — slow suck, deep throat, tongue swirling. I moaned against him, sloppy and wet, taking my time while he lost his. Rimming. Stroking. Worship. Eye contact. I didn’t stop until he gave me everything — hot, thick, and messy in my mouth. And yes, I played with it before swallowing. Like the filthy secret I promised to be.