Prom Warm-Up

Helen poked her head into Paul’s room. She adjusted her dress and smiled. “You look sharp, kid. Almost time.” Paul tugged at his tie and stared at his shoes. Something was off. Helen waited a beat. Then the story spilled out. He wasn’t scared of the prom—he was terrified of what came after. His date expected a wild finish, but Paul feared he’d pop in seconds and humiliate himself. Helen cocked her head, considered it, then gave an impish shrug. “Easy fix. Bust one now and you’ll stay cool later.” Paul’s eyes went wide, yet he didn’t argue. She stepped in, undid his belt, and eased him onto the edge of the bed. She sank to her knees, hair brushing his thigh, and took him in, slow and wet. Her tongue swirled, lips tightened, and when she felt his cock twitch she pushed further, throat opening to swallow every inch. Paul’s knuckles whitened on the comforter while Helen hummed—half tease, half encouragement—until his knees buckled and hot spurts painted the back of her throat.