Jessica was nineteen, maybe twenty, still had that fresh-faced look with freckles across her nose and messy auburn hair she never bothered to tame. Brandon had been dating her three months, but the last four weeks were torture. Work shifts clashed, her period hit, then his mom visited for a week. No sex. Not even a quick handjob. Just blue balls and her teasing texts: “Soon, promise.”
Tonight they finally had the apartment to themselves. Her roommate was at her boyfriend’s, and Brandon’s night off lined up for once. Jessica was in the kitchen trying to make spaghetti. The sauce bubbled on the stove, filling the small place with garlic and tomato smell. She wore tiny cotton shorts and one of his old band tees, no bra, nipples poking through the thin fabric whenever she reached for something.
Brandon leaned against the doorway watching her. He’d been half-hard since he walked in and smelled her vanilla body spray mixed with the cooking. She bent to check the noodles, shorts riding up, showing the bottom curve of her ass. No panties either.
“Fuck, Jess,” he muttered.
She glanced back, smirking. “What?”
“You know what.” He stepped closer. “Been a month. I’m dying here.”
Jessica laughed, low and dirty. She turned the burner down, wiped her hands on a dish towel, then dropped to her knees right there on the linoleum. No warning. Just eyes locked on his, tongue darting over her bottom lip.
“Been thinking about this too,” she said. Her voice was soft but urgent. “Wanted to make it good.”
Brandon’s jeans were already undone before he even registered her fingers working the zipper. She tugged them down just enough, boxers following. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, veins standing out from days of pent-up need. Pre-cum glistened at the tip.
“Jesus,” he groaned when her small hand wrapped around the base.
She stroked slow at first, thumb circling the head, smearing the slickness down the shaft. Then she leaned in and dragged her tongue flat from balls to tip, long and wet. Brandon’s knees almost buckled.
“Fuck… yeah, like that.”
Jessica hummed, pleased. She sucked one ball into her mouth gently, rolling it with her tongue while her hand kept pumping. The other hand cupped the second, massaging lightly. Wet slurping sounds filled the kitchen, louder than the TV droning in the living room.
She popped off with a wet smack, looked up at him with those big hazel eyes. “You taste salty.”
“Been saving it all for you.”
That did it. She opened wide and took him in, lips stretching around the thickness. No teasing now—just hungry. Her head bobbed fast, cheeks hollowing. Spit dribbled down her chin almost immediately. She didn’t care. She let it run, messy and real.
Brandon threaded his fingers in her hair, not forcing, just holding. “Goddamn, baby. So fucking sloppy.”
She moaned around him, the vibration shooting straight to his balls. One hand stroked what her mouth couldn’t reach while the other squeezed his sack. She pulled off for a second to breathe, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cock.
“Want your cum,” she panted. “Been waiting to swallow you.”
Then she dove back down, deeper this time. Her nose brushed his pubes. Throat flexed, gagging a little, but she pushed through. Eyes watered. Mascara smudged at the corners. Still she kept going, bobbing faster, wet gluck-gluck-gluck noises echoing off the cabinets.
Brandon’s hips jerked. “Close… fuck, Jess, I’m gonna—”
She didn’t pull off. Just sucked harder, tongue flat under the head, hand twisting at the base. He felt the pressure build, balls tightening, then the first hot spurt hit the back of her throat.
“Shit—fuck—take it—”
He came hard, pulse after pulse. Jessica swallowed greedily, throat working, but some still leaked from the corners of her mouth. White streaks ran down her chin, dripped onto her shirt. She kept sucking through it, milking every drop until he was twitching and oversensitive.
When he finally softened she let him slip out with a wet pop. She licked her lips, wiped her chin with the back of her hand, grinning like she’d won something.
“Worth the wait?” she asked, voice hoarse.
Brandon laughed breathlessly, legs shaky. “Best fucking blowjob of my life.”
She stood up, shorts wedged between her thighs, shirt damp with spit and a little cum. The spaghetti sauce was still simmering, noodles probably overcooked now. Smoke detector hadn’t gone off yet, small miracles.
He pulled her close, kissed her messy mouth. Tasted himself on her tongue. Didn’t care.
“Gonna eat this pasta,” she said against his lips, “then you’re fucking me on the couch.”
Brandon groaned. “Give me five minutes to recover.”
She smirked, turned back to the stove. “Better hurry. Food’s almost ready.”
He watched her ass sway as she stirred the pot, already half-hard again. A month was too long. Never again.

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