Page 26 of Taste Test

I dipped lower, my face brushing the inside of his thigh, tongue licking at the air like I was hunting for the balls he kept telling me to lick.

“Ungh. Unghh. Mmmph. Fuck.” He pulled my hair. “You’re so fucking good at this. Yeah… lick those big balls for me.”

“I love your big balls,” I breathed into his bulge.

Then:

“F-fuck, I’m gonna come!” Jared strained forward. “Aww. Ah, fuck. Ungh. Awh. Now. Now!”

Scared I’d miss the prize, I lifted up and shoved the carrot back down my throat. My lips sealed tight. Tongue frantic. I sucked hard, swallowing air and spit like I was catching every last drop.

“Mmngh—Oh, Casey,” he groaned. “Yeah... yeah... awwww, suck me down. It’s all for you, Casey!”

Hearing him say my name broke me.

My balls clenched. My gut twisted. And then I was coming. Violently, uncontrollably. Spunk splattered hot inside my boxers in thick, sticky bursts. I gasped around the carrot, moaning mid-swallow of… of nothing.

I pulled back slowly, gasping for breath. The carrot slipped from my mouth and fell to the floor with a dull, wet thud. My lips tingled. My chin dripped. My knees ached. And the crotch of my jeans. Fuck. The dark patch was already blooming, soaking through like a stain of proof. A badge of shame.

Then I looked up.

Jared was smiling. But not a post-orgasm smile. Not a sex smile. It was that dumb, bro-y, piss-take grin he wore when he thought we were both in on the joke.

Then he glanced down.

And the smile vanished.

“Bro,” he said, stunned. “Did you just… did you just cum in your pants?”

My gaze dropped to his crotch, desperate for any sign he’d been affected too. A twitch. A bulge. A wet patch. But there was nothing. Not even a semi.

Fuuuuuck.

“I… shit. I’m sorry,” I stammered, scrambling to my feet. “I didn’t mean to—fuck.”

“Casey, wait—”

But I was already bolting down the hallway. I slammed my bedroom door behind me and threw myself onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow.

“Casey!” Jared called from the lounge, and I could hear the laughter starting to creep into his voice. “Mate, come back! It was just a joke! It’s not a big deal!”

But it was a big deal. I’d just come in my pants from sucking a carrot while kneeling between my straight flatmate’s legs. That was about as pathetic as it got.

Two hours later, there was a quiet knock on my door.

“Casey?” Jared’s voice. “Can I come in?”

I didn’t answer, but the door opened anyway. He appeared in the doorway holding the familiar whisky glass, looking almost sheepish.

“Peace offering,” he said, holding up the cup. “I jerked off imagining Connor eating my leftovers out of Jess’s pussy, so it might taste a bit gayer than normal.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

He crossed the room and handed me the glass. I took it without a word and downed it in one go. It tasted sweeter than usual. Maybe the gay helped.

Jared sat down on the edge of my bed, hands resting awkwardly on his thighs.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “I thought we were just joking around. I didn’t think you’d actually… y’know.”

“Get off?” I said, setting the empty glass aside.

He nodded, eyes flicking towards my lap like he could still see the shame of my cum stain. Which he couldn’t because I’d already changed into a clean pair of pants.

“I didn’t get off because of the carrot,” I said.

“I know.”

“Or because of you. I hadn’t cum since this afternoon with Dash, and I was horny as fuck and—”

“I get it,” he cut me off gently. “You don’t need to explain.”

But I wanted to. I wanted him to know it had nothing to do with his hand in my hair, or his baby blues watching me, the solid weight of his legs bracketing me, the substantial bulge in his shorts. None of it, none of him , got me off. But I stayed quiet, because I believed he believed me.

“Are we good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “We’re good.”

“Let’s just treat what happened as a valuable lesson.”

“What’s the lesson?”

“Never leave your balls full after sucky-sucky.”

I laughed. Relieved. “Yeah. Lesson learned.”

“Good. Consider it part of your sexual education.”

“My sexual education is fine, thanks.”

“Speaking of education,” he said. “I’ve got this assessment coming up for my Sports Science paper. Human Movement and Recovery Techniques. And part of the practical component is demonstrating competency in therapeutic massage methods.”

“Okay…”

“I need to document five different massage techniques and their effectiveness on real subjects. Swedish, deep tissue, trigger point therapy, myofascial release. That sort of thing.” He shifted on the bed, looking almost embarrassed.

“The thing is, I need someone to practice on. Someone who won’t take the piss when I stuff it up. ”

“Have you asked one of your teammates?”

“I don’t want to touch any of those smelly boofheads. I’d rather fail the paper.”

“And you want me to be your guinea pig instead?”

“You’re always whinging about your shoulders being tight from hunching over textbooks all day. Could be mutually beneficial.”

“When’s this assessment due?”

“Next week. I’ve already booked the massage table from the sports therapy lab, got the oils and everything.” He looked at me hopefully. “I know it’s not every day you ask your flatmate to get naked for an assignment, but you’d be helping me out heaps.”

“Why the fuck would I be naked?”

“Because it’s a full-body massage, you muppet. I can’t work on your back and shoulders properly through a shirt, can I?”

I shook my head. “Nuh-uh. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be such a prude. You’ll have a towel. Just a little one covering your bits. Standard procedure.”

“I’m not getting naked for you, Jared.”

“It’s not ‘for me,’ it’s for therapeutic purposes. So don’t worry, mate. No one’s gonna see your dicky. I’ll be very respectful of your modesty.”

“It’s still a no.”

“Tell you what. I’ll even dim the lights if you’re that shy about it. Light some candles, play some whale music or some shit.”

“This keeps getting worse.”

“Or better, depending on your perspective.” He winked. “Come on, Casey. Live a little. It’s just skin.”

The thought of lying naked while Jared’s hands worked oil into my skin made my stomach flip in ways I didn’t want to examine.

“I suppose if it means helping you pass the paper …”

“Is that a yes?”

I looked at him sitting there with that expectant grin, already knowing he’d worn me down. “Yes. But if you make a joke out of it, I’m walking out.”

“I won’t make a joke out of it. I actually wanna pass the paper.” He picked up the empty glass and stood. “I’m heading to bed soon but I reckon I can still squeeze one more load out before I crash, if you’re interested.”

He left the room before I could give him an answer. He already knew it would be a yes .