u/mattagain26

I never thought I'd write something like this. My wife died a year ago and the quiet in our house started eating at me. I work as a project manager for a construction company, but coming home to an empty living room every night got harder than I expected. I tried the gym and a couple dating apps, but nothing clicked. Most people my age were already settled or looking for something serious, and I just wanted someone to talk to.

Reddit became my escape. I posted in r/friendship and r/needafriend, hoping to find a guy who wanted to grab a beer or watch a game. That's where I met MidwestMike87. We bonded over the Bears and bad work stories. After a month of texting we met at a sports bar near my place. He was mid-thirties, divorced, worked in sales. We got along easy. Over the next few months we hung out a couple times a week. Nothing weird, just two guys shooting the shit.

The night it happened we were at my house after watching a game. We'd finished a six-pack and moved on to whiskey. He was on the couch, I was in the recliner. He started talking about how long it had been since he'd gotten head. I nodded along, understanding the frustration. Then he said his ex used to blow him whenever he wanted and now he was going months without relief. I laughed at first, but he kept bringing it up. Said he missed the feeling of a warm mouth around his cock.

I was buzzed and feeling generous. When he suggested I help him out, I figured why not. He unzipped and pulled out his cock. It was already hard, thick, with a slight curve. I got on my knees between his legs. The first time sucking dick, I was clumsy but determined. I wrapped my lips around the head, tasting the precum that had already leaked out. My tongue circled the crown while I slowly took more of him into my mouth. He was warm and heavy on my tongue. I started bobbing my head, working my way down his shaft inch by inch. My hand gripped the base and stroked what I couldn't fit yet. He groaned and put his hand on the back of my head, not pushing hard, just resting there. I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, letting my saliva coat his entire length. The wet sounds filled the room as I worked him over. He started breathing heavier, his thighs tensing under my hands. When he came, his cock throbbed against my tongue and hot, thick cum shot into my mouth. I swallowed on instinct, feeling the warm load slide down my throat. I kept sucking gently until he was done, making sure I got every drop.

The second time happened about a week later. This time I was more confident. I got on my knees again and took him straight into my mouth. I relaxed my throat and let him push deeper. He held my head with both hands and started thrusting, fucking my face while I sucked. My nose pressed against his pubes each time he bottomed out. Drool ran down my chin but I didn't stop. I focused on breathing through my nose and keeping my throat open. His balls slapped against my chin with each thrust. I could feel him getting close, his cock swelling even more. When he came, it was even more than the first time. Thick ropes of cum flooded my mouth and I swallowed it all down, feeling it coat my throat. Some of it leaked from the corner of my mouth but I licked it up.

After that second time, things changed a little. While I was still on my knees catching my breath, he reached down and grabbed my ass. His hand squeezed one cheek, then slid between them, fingers pressing against my hole through my pants. He asked if I'd ever done anal before. I told him no, but I was willing to try if he wanted. He seemed interested, kept rubbing my ass and talking about how tight I'd probably feel. I was nervous but figured I'd already crossed one line, might as well see where it went. We agreed that next time we'd try it for real. I said yes because I wanted to keep my bro interested, wanted that connection to stay.

Then he just stopped responding. No texts, no calls, nothing. It's been two weeks now. I'm sitting here wondering what the fuck happened. Was my blowjob not good enough? Did I take too long to agree to anal? Should I have offered my ass the first time? I keep replaying everything in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. We seemed to get along great before all this. Now I'm just confused as hell. Anyone been in a similar situation? Did I mess this up somehow?

I never thought I'd write something like this. My wife died a year ago and the quiet in our house started eating at me. I work as a project manager for a construction company, but coming home to an empty living room every night got harder than I expected. I tried the gym and a couple dating apps, but nothing clicked. Most people my age were already settled or looking for something serious, and I just wanted someone to talk to.

Reddit became my escape. I posted in r/friendship and r/needafriend, hoping to find a guy who wanted to grab a beer or watch a game. That's where I met MidwestMike87. We bonded over the Bears and bad work stories. After a month of texting we met at a sports bar near my place. He was mid-thirties, divorced, worked in sales. We got along easy. Over the next few months we hung out a couple times a week. Nothing weird, just two guys shooting the shit.

The night it happened we were at my house after watching a game. We'd finished a six-pack and moved on to whiskey. He was on the couch, I was in the recliner. He started talking about how long it had been since he'd gotten head. I nodded along, understanding the frustration. Then he said his ex used to blow him whenever he wanted and now he was going months without relief. I laughed at first, but he kept bringing it up. Said he missed the feeling of a warm mouth around his cock.

I was buzzed and feeling generous. When he suggested I help him out, I figured why not. He unzipped and pulled out his cock. It was already hard, thick, with a slight curve. I got on my knees between his legs. The first time sucking dick, I was clumsy but determined. I wrapped my lips around the head, tasting the precum that had already leaked out. My tongue circled the crown while I slowly took more of him into my mouth. He was warm and heavy on my tongue. I started bobbing my head, working my way down his shaft inch by inch. My hand gripped the base and stroked what I couldn't fit yet. He groaned and put his hand on the back of my head, not pushing hard, just resting there. I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, letting my saliva coat his entire length. The wet sounds filled the room as I worked him over. He started breathing heavier, his thighs tensing under my hands. When he came, his cock throbbed against my tongue and hot, thick cum shot into my mouth. I swallowed on instinct, feeling the warm load slide down my throat. I kept sucking gently until he was done, making sure I got every drop.

The second time happened about a week later. This time I was more confident. I got on my knees again and took him straight into my mouth. I relaxed my throat and let him push deeper. He held my head with both hands and started thrusting, fucking my face while I sucked. My nose pressed against his pubes each time he bottomed out. Drool ran down my chin but I didn't stop. I focused on breathing through my nose and keeping my throat open. His balls slapped against my chin with each thrust. I could feel him getting close, his cock swelling even more. When he came, it was even more than the first time. Thick ropes of cum flooded my mouth and I swallowed it all down, feeling it coat my throat. Some of it leaked from the corner of my mouth but I licked it up.

After that second time, things changed a little. While I was still on my knees catching my breath, he reached down and grabbed my ass. His hand squeezed one cheek, then slid between them, fingers pressing against my hole through my pants. He asked if I'd ever done anal before. I told him no, but I was willing to try if he wanted. He seemed interested, kept rubbing my ass and talking about how tight I'd probably feel. I was nervous but figured I'd already crossed one line, might as well see where it went. We agreed that next time we'd try it for real. I said yes because I wanted to keep my bro interested, wanted that connection to stay.

Then he just stopped responding. No texts, no calls, nothing. It's been two weeks now. I'm sitting here wondering what the fuck happened. Was my blowjob not good enough? Did I take too long to agree to anal? Should I have offered my ass the first time? I keep replaying everything in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. We seemed to get along great before all this. Now I'm just confused as hell. Anyone been in a similar situation? Did I mess this up somehow?

The night started with a stupid decision. I had been driving around without insurance after a few rough months with money, and the last thing I needed was more trouble. Then it happened. My car clipped the back of a big white ute at an intersection. Metal crunched. My heart dropped. I got out, already rehearsing apologies, when the driver's door of the ute swung open.

Out stepped a massive Samoan guy, easily six foot five, shoulders like a fridge, tattoos covering his thick arms. He looked pissed. "What the fuck, man? You just smashed my ute!"

I tried to explain, told him I didn't have insurance yet, that I could pay him later. He wasn't buying it. "You think I'm gonna let you drive off without settling this? You owe me cash. Now."

I told him I didn't have it on me. He stared me down, jaw tight, then smirked like he had an idea. "Alright. You want to get out of this without paying? Come with me. Somewhere private."

I followed him in my damaged car to a quiet industrial lot a few blocks away. He parked behind an empty warehouse and got out. The moment we were alone he grabbed my shoulder and pushed me down to my knees on the concrete. "You suck my cock and I'll call it even."

My stomach flipped. I was straight, married, never done anything like this. But the damage on his ute looked expensive and I had no money. I reached for his belt, hands shaking as I pulled his jeans down. His cock was already half-hard, thick and dark, easily nine inches and still growing. The head was fat and shiny, veins running down the shaft. I opened my mouth and took him in.

He groaned and grabbed the back of my head, forcing more of his length past my lips. "That's it. Suck it properly." I gagged as he pushed deeper, spit running down my chin while he fucked my throat in short thrusts. The taste was salty, musky, overwhelming. He held me there until I tapped his thigh, then let me breathe before shoving back in. My eyes watered. My jaw ached. He kept talking, calling me a good cocksucker, telling me to use my tongue on the head. I did what he said, licking and sucking until he was rock hard and throbbing.

After a few minutes he pulled out, spit dripping from his cock. "Turn around. Bend over the bonnet."

I hesitated. "I... I've never..."

"Don't care. You want this paid off or not?"

I stood, turned, and leaned over the warm metal of his ute. He yanked my pants down to my knees and spat on his fingers. One thick digit pushed between my cheeks and rubbed over my hole. I clenched. He didn't wait long. He lined that massive cock up and pressed the head against my entrance.

The pressure was immediate and brutal. My ass resisted, burning as he tried to force the fat head inside. I gasped, gripping the edge of the bonnet. He pushed harder, grunting with effort, but my hole wouldn't give. It felt like he was trying to shove a fist into me. After a minute of painful stretching he pulled back, breathing heavy.

"Fuck, you're too tight. Can't get it in." He slapped my ass once, hard. "Guess the blowjob will have to do."

He spun me back around, shoved his cock into my mouth again, and fucked my face until he came. Thick ropes of cum shot down my throat. I swallowed what I could, the rest spilling over my lips and chin. He held me there until he finished, then let go.

I wiped my mouth, pulled my pants up, legs shaking. He zipped up, looking satisfied. "We're even. Don't let me see you around here again."

I drove home with the taste of him still in my mouth and my ass sore from the failed attempt. My wife was asleep when I got in. I showered twice before crawling into bed beside her, wondering how the hell I was going to explain the damage on my own car.

​

I never expected to write something like this, but here it goes. I'm 34, married for six years, and I thought I was just looking for a solid guy friend—someone to grab beers with, watch games, shoot the shit. That's why I posted on Reddit about wanting a bromance. A few replies came in, but one stood out. The guy seemed chill, same age, into the same stuff. We messaged for a couple weeks before meeting up at a sports bar downtown.

His name was Jake. Tall, built, worked in IT. We hit it off immediately. Beers turned into late-night texts, then hanging at his place playing video games. One night after too many drinks he admitted he was bi-curious. I laughed it off, told him I was straight and happily married. He didn't push it.

A few weeks later we were back at his apartment. We'd had a couple shots and were bullshitting about relationships when he asked if I'd ever thought about experimenting—just once, just to see. I told him no. He nodded, said he understood, and we kept drinking.

Then he pulled his cock out. Thick, already half-hard. Said if I wanted to keep hanging out, maybe I could help him out. Just a blowjob. Nothing serious. I froze. My wife was at home. My marriage was fine. But Jake was my only real friend lately, and the thought of losing that connection made my stomach twist.

I got on my knees. His cock tasted salty when I wrapped my lips around it. He groaned and grabbed my hair, guiding my head up and down. I gagged when he pushed too deep but kept going. Spit ran down my chin. My own cock stayed soft in my jeans—nerves, shame, whatever. Jake didn't care. He fucked my mouth until he came down my throat, holding me there until I swallowed every drop.

Afterward he acted normal. We played another game, talked like nothing happened. I went home feeling weird but figured we'd just keep being friends.

Next time we hung out he wanted more. Said he wanted to fuck me. I told him I wasn't ready for that. He got quiet. The rest of the night felt off. When I texted him a couple days later he left me on read. A week passed. Nothing. I messaged again asking if we were still cool. He finally replied: "Not really looking for just friends anymore."

That was it. No more texts. No more game nights. I sucked his dick to keep the friendship and he ditched me anyway. Now I'm sitting here wondering what the fuck I was thinking, and if any other guys on here are looking for the same kind of "bromance" arrangement—hit me up. I'm not gay. I just wanted a friend.

I never expected to write something like this, but here it goes. I'm 34, married for six years, and I thought I was just looking for a solid guy friend—someone to grab beers with, watch games, shoot the shit. That's why I posted on Reddit about wanting a bromance. A few replies came in, but one stood out. The guy seemed chill, same age, into the same stuff. We messaged for a couple weeks before meeting up at a sports bar downtown.

His name was Jake. Tall, built, worked in IT. We hit it off immediately. Beers turned into late-night texts, then hanging at his place playing video games. One night after too many drinks he admitted he was bi-curious. I laughed it off, told him I was straight and happily married. He didn't push it.

A few weeks later we were back at his apartment. We'd had a couple shots and were bullshitting about relationships when he asked if I'd ever thought about experimenting—just once, just to see. I told him no. He nodded, said he understood, and we kept drinking.

Then he pulled his cock out. Thick, already half-hard. Said if I wanted to keep hanging out, maybe I could help him out. Just a blowjob. Nothing serious. I froze. My wife was at home. My marriage was fine. But Jake was my only real friend lately, and the thought of losing that connection made my stomach twist.

I got on my knees. His cock tasted salty when I wrapped my lips around it. He groaned and grabbed my hair, guiding my head up and down. I gagged when he pushed too deep but kept going. Spit ran down my chin. My own cock stayed soft in my jeans—nerves, shame, whatever. Jake didn't care. He fucked my mouth until he came down my throat, holding me there until I swallowed every drop.

Afterward he acted normal. We played another game, talked like nothing happened. I went home feeling weird but figured we'd just keep being friends.

Next time we hung out he wanted more. Said he wanted to fuck me. I told him I wasn't ready for that. He got quiet. The rest of the night felt off. When I texted him a couple days later he left me on read. A week passed. Nothing. I messaged again asking if we were still cool. He finally replied: "Not really looking for just friends anymore."

That was it. No more texts. No more game nights. I sucked his dick to keep the friendship and he ditched me anyway. Now I'm sitting here wondering what the fuck I was thinking, and if any other guys on here are looking for the same kind of "bromance" arrangement—hit me up. I'm not gay. I just wanted a friend.

I can’t stop thinking about what I did last a month ago. Still feel bad but wanted to get it off my chest

I was on a business trip, staying in one of those cheap motels off the highway. The kind with flickering lights in the parking lot and the smell of old cigarettes baked into the carpet. I’d had a long day, grabbed some cigarettes at the gas station across the street, and that’s when I saw him.

He was leaning against the brick wall outside—older guy, gray in his beard, clothes hanging off him. I don’t know why I walked over. I just did. Asked if he wanted a place to crash. I told him he'd have to work for it but have him my ID so he knew who i was and felt safe. He looked at me for a long time before he nodded.

Once we were in the room I locked the door and told him he could shower. I watched him strip down. Thick body, hairy chest. He didn’t seem to care that I was staring. When he came out still damp I was already hard. I asked if he'd be willing to suck me off for a hundred.

I sat on the edge of the bed and spread my legs. He got on his knees without me saying anything.

His mouth was warm and slow. He took me deep, throat working around me until I grabbed his hair and came hard down his throat. I didn’t even try to hold back. I just pumped everything into him while he swallowed.

After that I pulled him onto the bed and rolled him onto his stomach. I worked lube into his hole with my fingers until he was loose enough. He was tight—probably never done anything like this before. When I pushed my cock in he gasped into the pillow but didn’t stop me. I fucked him slow at first, then harder, until I was slamming into him. I came once, then again without pulling out, grinding the second load deeper while his hole clenched around me.

I kept going. Every time I got hard again I reached for him. He didn’t argue. Just spread his legs or stayed on his stomach and let me push back inside. By the time morning came his hole was wrecked—slick, open, cum leaking out every time I pulled free.

I woke up with my cock stiff again. He was still on his stomach, one leg kicked out. I ran my hand over his ass, spread him, and looked at the puffy, cum-slick hole I’d spent the night using. I felt guilty as hell, but I was hard and I wanted more.

I grabbed the lube, slicked up, and climbed over him. He stirred when I pressed against his entrance. “What time is it?” he mumbled.

“Late,” I said. “One more.”

I set two hundred dollars on the pillow beside his face. He stared at the bills, then nodded.

I pushed into him in one thrust. He was loose and wet from everything I’d already pumped into him. The sound was filthy—wet, squelching, obscene. I fucked him hard, hips slapping his hairy ass, driving through the mess of cum already inside him. He gripped the sheets and groaned into the pillow while I used his hole. I came fast, shoving deep and pulsing another thick load straight into his guts. When I finally pulled out, more cum followed, running down his crack in white streaks.

I wiped off, got dressed, and left the extra cash on the dresser. He never looked at me as I walked out.

I keep telling myself it was just one night. But I can’t shake the feeling that I did something wrong.

​

Three months ago, my wife was visiting her parents when my brother-in-law sat across from me at our kitchen table. The gambling debt had spiraled to ten thousand dollars, and I had no way to explain it to her. He offered to cover it, but said I'd owe him. I agreed immediately.

The first time was two days later in his garage. I knelt on the cold concrete while he sat on his workbench. His cock was already hard when I pulled it out. I was nervous and clumsy, licking around the head before taking the tip into my mouth. It took twenty awkward minutes before he came on my tongue. I swallowed and left without saying much.

By the second week, he had me strip naked in his bedroom. He rubbed his cock across my tongue, smearing precum on my lips before pushing deeper. I gagged when he hit my throat, but I stayed on my knees and let him fuck my mouth until he came down my throat.

Week three was when I started getting better. I learned to relax my throat and breathe through my nose. I figured out that using my hand at the base while sucking the head made him groan. The sessions started lasting longer, fifteen then twenty minutes before he finished.

By week four, he had me lie on my back with my head hanging off the bed. He stood over me and slid his cock straight down my throat. I couldn't breathe or move, just had to take it while spit ran down my face. When he came, it went straight down without me even tasting it.

Week five, he started timing me. I made him cum in twelve minutes using everything I'd learned. My throat had gotten used to the stretch, and I could hold him deeper without gagging.

By week six, I was the one initiating. I'd text him asking when he wanted me to come over. I knew exactly how he liked it now. Long, slow licks from base to tip, then taking him deep while my hand worked the shaft. I could read his breathing and knew exactly when he was getting close.

Week seven was the first time I swallowed without being told. I just kept sucking until he was completely empty, then licked him clean before tucking his cock away.

By week eight, I could hold him in my throat for thirty seconds at a time. He'd push in deep and count while my throat spasmed around him. My voice was hoarse by the end, but I stayed focused.

Week nine, I could make him cum in under eight minutes consistently. I knew all his tells now. The way his thighs tensed, how his cock twitched right before he came.

By week ten, I was competitive with myself. The record was five and a half minutes. My technique was flawless, no wasted movements, just efficient sucking designed to get him off as quickly as possible.

The final session was in his basement after midnight. The debt was almost paid. I dropped to my knees and started with long, slow licks, coating every inch of him with spit. My tongue pressed flat against the underside, dragging upward with perfect pressure. I circled the head slowly, then took him into my mouth with practiced ease.

I hollowed my cheeks and sucked hard while bobbing my head, taking more of his length with each stroke. When his cock hit the back of my throat, I relaxed and pushed forward until my nose pressed against his pelvis. I held it there, throat working around him, before pulling back with a wet gasp and diving back down. My hand worked in perfect rhythm with my mouth.

I switched between deep, steady sucking and focusing on the head. I flicked my tongue across the sensitive spot just under the crown, sucked just the tip with hard pressure, then swallowed him whole again. Spit ran down my chin, but I didn't stop.

I could feel him getting close. His thighs tensed and his breathing changed. I doubled down, sucking harder, taking him deeper, my throat making wet sounds as I worked him. When he grabbed my hair and started thrusting, I let him fuck my mouth, staying relaxed and open while he used my throat.

He came harder than he had in weeks, pulsing against my tongue with thick, hot spurts. I swallowed every drop without pulling off, then kept sucking gently until he softened. When I finally let his cock slip from my lips, it was clean and glistening.

"Debt's clear," he said. "We're done."

I wiped my mouth and stood up, legs stiff from kneeling. Three months of weekly sessions had turned me into someone who could make any man cum in under ten minutes with just my mouth. I nodded and left without another word.

I’d been scrolling through r/bromance for months, looking for that perfect straight guy connection. Someone who got the whole “we’re just buddies who happen to be super close” vibe without it turning weird. Then I found him—u/BeerAndBanter42. His posts were exactly what I’d been hunting: sports talk, wife complaints, the occasional “anyone else miss having a best friend who actually gets you?” type stuff.

We started chatting in the comments, then DMs. Within a week we were texting daily. Mike lived two states over, worked construction, married like me. We bonded over hating our jobs, loving our wives, and missing that easy male friendship that doesn’t require therapy-speak or constant emotional labor. We called it our “straight guy bromance” and laughed about how rare it felt.

The first time we met in person was at a neutral spot halfway between us—a shitty motel with a bar attached. We drank cheap whiskey, played darts, and talked until 3 AM about everything. By the third visit the drinking got heavier and the bets started. Stupid shit at first. “Double or nothing on this shot.” “Loser buys the next round.” Then it escalated.

That last night we were both hammered. Mike was up four hundred bucks on me from the dart game. I was laughing, calling him a hustler, when he leaned back in the chair and said, “Tell you what. Double or nothing on one more game. You lose, you suck my dick.”

I should’ve said no. Should’ve laughed it off. Instead I picked up the dart, missed on purpose, and felt my stomach flip when he grinned like he’d been waiting for this.

“On your knees then, buddy.”

I crawled over, hands shaking, and pulled his cock out of his jeans. It was already half-hard, thick, warm against my palm. I’d never done this before. Never even thought about it. But the alcohol made everything feel like a game we were both playing, and I opened my mouth and took him in.

Mike groaned, one hand resting on the back of my head, not pushing, just there. I worked my tongue along the underside, tasting salt and skin, feeling him swell until he hit the back of my throat. He talked the whole time—low, filthy encouragement that made my own cock twitch in my pants.

“Fuck, that’s it. Been wondering what that mouth would feel like since the first night we met.”

I sucked harder, bobbing faster, spit running down my chin. Mike’s breathing got ragged. His fingers tightened in my hair. When he came he held my head steady and pumped thick ropes across my tongue, making me swallow every drop while he moaned my name like it was the best thing he’d ever felt.

Afterward we didn’t talk much. He zipped up, I wiped my mouth, and we both pretended it was just another stupid bet. But the next morning the group chat was quiet. The daily texts stopped. Two weeks later he deleted his Reddit account.

Now I keep wondering if we ruined the best friendship I’d had in years over one drunken blowjob. Was it worth it? Did we both know what we were really betting?