Yes she does

Emily didn’t decide so much as move.

Her fingers extended slowly, uncertainly, until the backs of her knuckles grazed the shaft. Warm. Real. The skin twitched under her touch.

The reaction was immediate.

“Shit!” came the startled gasp from the other side, followed by the sudden retreat—his cock vanishing back through the hole like a spooked animal. The sound of stumbling feet and the low thud of his back hitting the tiled wall followed a beat later.

His friends lost it.

“Bro! You jumped!”

“Was that her? Was that someone?”

“She touched it and you fucking jumped—”

“Shut the fuck up, man,” the first voice snapped, breathless.

A pause.

Then: the faint sound of a zipper again.

And slowly, steadily, the cock returned—this time more erect, sticking farther through the hole, firmer now, the head flushed darker, precum glistening at the tip.

Emily stared for a heartbeat longer. Her mouth was dry. Her nipples ached inside the sports bra, still hard from the run and the earlier tension. The tight black fabric clung like a second skin. Her thighs shifted.

Then she reached again.

No hesitation this time.

Her fingers wrapped around the shaft. Warm, pulsing, slightly slick. She gave it a stroke. Once. Then again. Her grip adjusted—tighter now, confident, the way her hand used to move before Chloe, before Jason started falling asleep before touching her.

The cock throbbed hard.

A breath hitched on the other side of the wall.

She kept going. Short, smooth strokes, her wrist twisting slightly at the top, her thumb brushing the underside of the head. The skin was soft, the muscle underneath hardening with every pass. It jerked under her touch.

“Dude, holy shit,” one of the friends muttered, their voices quieter now—awed, disbelieving.

Then Emily leaned forward.

Her lips parted. The tip met them.

The moment she wrapped her mouth around it—warm, wet, slow—his breath caught in a sharp inhale. She sucked gently at first, taking just the head, tongue swirling around the tip. Her hand stroked the base, keeping the rhythm steady. She didn’t rush. She didn’t speak. She just moved—up, down, lips tight, cheeks hollowing as the shaft slid deeper.

He groaned. A low, strangled sound.

His friends were dead silent now. One muttered something that sounded like “no fucking way,” but the rest held their breath.

Emily didn’t care.

She closed her eyes and sank deeper, her free hand braced on her thigh, the other keeping time. The weight in her mouth stiffened further. The cock pushed into her throat.

And still, she didn’t stop.