Ethan

The soft hum of the coffee machine filled the kitchen as Rachel stood by the stove, flipping eggs, her mind drifting in and out of the tasks at hand. It was one of those mornings where everything felt routine—normal—but beneath the surface, she felt a quiet restlessness. Ethan was at the table, his face buried in his phone, casually scrolling while he absentmindedly ate his toast.

“Eggs okay?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

“Yeah, thanks,” Ethan muttered, barely looking up from his phone. He was always like this in the mornings—caught up in his own world, texting friends, reading whatever kept him distracted. Rachel usually didn’t mind; it gave her space to move around and get things done without fuss.

She placed a plate in front of him and poured herself a cup of coffee, her hands steady even though her mind kept flickering back to Liam. The memory of last night, the way he had touched her, the way she’d let herself go with him—it was still fresh, and no matter how hard she tried to shake it off, it lingered.

Rachel sat down across from Ethan, watching him for a moment as he shoveled eggs into his mouth. He was nineteen, grown now in so many ways, but mornings like these still made him feel like the little boy she used to pack lunches for. He was always a bit out of it in the mornings, too focused on his phone or music to really engage in conversation.

“You heading to campus after?” she asked, sipping her coffee.

“Yeah, meeting some friends for a project before class,” he replied, not looking up, his leg bouncing under the table as he swiped his screen.

Rachel nodded, distracted, her thoughts wandering back to last night with Liam. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t stop thinking about it—about him. It was just one night. A mistake, maybe. Something she hadn’t fully processed yet. But now, here, in the quiet of the morning, it was hard to push away. The weight of it was there, simmering beneath the surface, even as she tried to focus on Ethan’s routine.

She stood and grabbed his jacket from the chair. “Don’t forget this,” she said, handing it to him. “It’s getting colder.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, still distracted as he stuffed his phone in his pocket and grabbed the jacket. He stood up, his backpack slung over one shoulder, and headed for the door.

Rachel followed him, lingering by the door as he slipped on his shoes. He was already mentally somewhere else—at school, with his friends, living his own life. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, something he’d done out of habit since he was little.

“See you later,” he said casually, flashing her a brief smile before stepping out the door.

“Yeah, have a good day,” Rachel replied, watching him go. The door clicked shut, leaving the house quiet again, just as it always did when he left for the day.

For a moment, she stood there in the silence, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound left in the kitchen. Her mind wandered back to Liam, uninvited but inevitable. Last night felt almost surreal now, like something that had happened to someone else. But it hadn’t. It was her. It had been real, and as much as she tried to keep her mind on the normalcy of the morning, it was impossible to fully shake.

She sighed, turning back into the kitchen, her eyes landing on her phone. Hesitating for a beat, she finally picked it up, the screen lighting up with a notification. Her heart skipped, just as she expected—Liam.

_Miss you already. When can I see you? _The words made her smile, but what really caught her attention was the image that followed.

Rachel’s breath hitched as the photo loaded fully on the screen—Liam’s cock, hard, thick, and perfectly framed. For a moment, she just stared, her pulse quickening as her eyes traced over the details, taking it in slowly.

The first thing she noticed was the sheer size—impressive, even more so now, seeing it so boldly presented. Her gaze lingered on the thickness of it, the veins running along the shaft, the way his skin looked slightly flushed with arousal. She thought back to last night in her studio, the way she had almost torn his jeans off, her heart stopping cold when it slapped her chin as it jumped free. Zoomers, a whole generation raised on internet porn, sexually more open than any before—maybe that manifested physically too? Boys didn’t have dicks this big when she was 19, that she knew for sure.

Next, her eyes traveled down to the head, swollen and slick with precum, glistening slightly in the light. That image alone sent a rush of heat through her. She could almost feel the weight of it again, the memory of his cock pressing against her lips, thick and heavy as it slid inside her mouth. She remembered how her tongue had traced the ridge of his head, the way it filled her completely, the taste of him, leaving her breathless. The thought made her thighs clench involuntarily.

She couldn’t help but let her fingers trail along the screen, tracing the shape of him as if she were touching him for real. His cock was so unashamedly hard for her, the sight of it raw and intimate. She thought about the way he looked at her the night before, the hunger in his eyes that mirrored the desire she felt now. This generation was so casual about sending dick pics like it’s nothing. Back when she was in college, sending something like this wasn't even thinkable. She liked the new generation better...

Her breath quickened as she lingered on the base of his cock, where his hand gripped himself firmly, his fingers wrapped tightly around his length, the knuckles slightly tense. The image of his hand stroking, guiding himself toward her, sent a fresh wave of excitement rolling through her. The memory was so vivid now—how it had felt, how she had wanted him so badly in that moment.

Rachel smiled, her body warm, the earlier sense of guilt slipping away. She couldn’t help but admire his confidence, how comfortable he was with himself, how effortlessly he could make her want him. The image was perfect, calculated in a way that told her he knew exactly what he was doing, how he was affecting her.

She quickly typed back, her fingers trembling slightly from the excitement: Maybe later. If you’re lucky.

Liam’s reply came almost instantly: I’ll make my own luck ;)

Rachel chuckled softly, setting her phone down, the heat still buzzing under her skin. She could feel the weight of her attraction to him pulling her in, the thrill of it making her smile even as she tried to focus on the day ahead. The details of that picture—the veins, the slick head, the grip of his hand—played over in her mind, keeping him close even when he wasn’t there. Young people have it so easy these days, she thought with a hint of envy. Raised on endless porn, no shame, and somehow even more well-endowed.

But then, out of nowhere, an unwanted and intrusive thought hit her: What about Ethan? An image flashed—Ethan in his room, jeans tangled around his ankles, his hand gripping an enormous, almost absurdly thick cock, slick with precum as he mindlessly stroked away. On the screen, a pair of ridiculously oversized bolt-on tits jiggled like balloons, practically defying physics with every bounce. The room was a mess, mountains of crumpled tissues piling up around him as he gooned out, eyes glazed, lost in an endless loop of mind-numbing pleasure.

The thought jarred her, sending a cold rush through her chest. Stop. She blinked hard, trying to push it away, but the guilt sat heavy, twisting inside her as she tried to shake the image from her mind.

As she stared down at her phone, her fingers hovering over Liam’s message, the weight of her desire battled against the creeping guilt. She could feel both pulling at her, tearing her in two. She hesitated, torn between the reckless thrill of seeing him again and the sinking fear of what it meant.