I went down on my boyfriend while my friend was watching.

I have this one friend—let’s call her Anna. She’s the kind of person who turns heads without trying. Petite, stunning, with this effortless confidence and a wild, unfiltered charm. She’s always been open about her sex life—bold, experimental, and never shy about telling stories that most people would only whisper.

When she first met my boyfriend, we were still pretty fresh as a couple. She raised an eyebrow, gave me that familiar smirk, and told me point-blank how hot she thought we were together. She joked—maybe half-joked—that she’d love to watch us sometime. I laughed it off, thinking it was just Anna being provocative for the sake of it.

And for a while, it was just talk.

Then came that night.

She stopped by after a date, wanting to vent and unwind. We opened a bottle of wine, then another, and soon the three of us were tipsy, curled up on the couch, laughing over nonsense and letting the alcohol blur the edges of the evening.

That’s when the teasing started again. Except this time, Anna wasn’t just talking to me—she turned to my boyfriend, eyes glittering, and said something like, “You two together… god, it’s so hot. I’d pay to watch you fuck.”

Her tone was playful, but there was something different in her eyes. I looked at him. He wasn’t laughing. He was listening. Curious. Quietly intrigued.

The room felt suddenly charged—warm, electric. I didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned in a little closer to him, as if testing the weight of the moment. Then I turned to Anna and, half-smiling, said, “You want a show?”

She blinked, then smiled back. I didn’t wait for a response.

I slipped off the couch, onto my knees, still tipsy but steady enough to know what I was doing. The room fell quiet except for the sound of breath and wine glasses being set down. I focused on him, and just beneath the rush of boldness was this surreal thrill: knowing Anna was right there, watching, letting her eyes linger without shame.

She didn’t stay still for long. At some point, I noticed her shifting on the couch, legs crossed, wine in one hand, the other slipping beneath the hem of her dress. Her breathing was slow, intentional. She didn’t try to hide it. She wanted us to see.

The moment was hot—unexpectedly intense, even if it ended quicker than expected. We all laughed about it afterward, but the look we shared said something else entirely: this wasn’t a one-time thing. Something had been unlocked.

And yes, we did eventually take it further. But that night? That first spark? It was unforgettable.

Let’s just say the next part of the story only got hotter.