It was supposed to be just a normal Saturday. My boyfriend left early to play basketball with his friends, and I had the whole place to myself. Or at least I thought I did. I was walking around in just a big shirt, no bra, no panties, sipping coffee while scrolling through my phone. I liked the quiet mornings. I felt free, relaxed, a little playful even. The shirt I wore barely covered my ass, and I didn’t care—no one was supposed to see me like this.I went to the kitchen, bent down to grab something from the lower cabinet, and that’s when I heard it. A small cough. Not mine.I froze. Slowly, I turned my head, and there he was, my boyfriend’s friend—sitting awkwardly at the edge of the couch, holding a glass of water, eyes wide. Fuck. I had completely forgotten he stayed over after their game last night.He must’ve seen everything. I stood up quickly, heart pounding, pulling the shirt down as best as I could.He looked away fast and stuttered something like, “Sorry—I thought you knew I was here.”I laughed it off nervously and told him it was fine. But it wasn’t. My skin was hot. My heart was racing, and I could feel this weird buzz between my legs. I didn’t want to be turned on, but something about being seen like that… it did something to me.I told him I’d just go back to my room and didn’t make eye contact. But when I got inside and shut the door, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About his eyes. About the way I was bent over, exposed.I lay down on the bed, legs pressed together, but the heat wouldn’t go away. The hem of the shirt rode up as I shifted, exposing more than I intended. My hand slipped between my thighs almost without thinking, fingers brushing softly against my skin through the fabric. It felt good. Too good.Then I heard it again. Movement. A soft creak outside my door. My room wasn’t fully closed, just slightly open. Had he followed me? Was he standing there?I froze, my hand still between my legs. Part of me said to stop. But another part didn’t care. I let out a soft moan, quiet, but not that quiet. Just enough for someone to hear if they were standing next to the door.I swear I heard a breath catch from behind the door. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t move. I just rubbed a little slower, my body buzzing with guilt and excitement. My shirt slid up further, my thighs spread just enough, and I kept going, wondering if he could see anything through the crack. If he was touching himself too. If he’d come in.But the door never moved. I finished quietly, biting my lip, heart still racing. Later, when I came out fully dressed, he didn’t say a word. But the way he looked at me, he knew. And I knew he knew.He was about to say something, but I immediately said, "Did you like it?"

It was supposed to be just a normal Saturday. My boyfriend left early to play basketball with his friends, and I had the whole place to myself. Or at least I thought I did. 

I was walking around in just a big shirt, no bra, no panties, sipping coffee while scrolling through my phone. I liked the quiet mornings. I felt free, relaxed, a little playful even. The shirt I wore barely covered my ass, and I didn’t care—no one was supposed to see me like this.

I went to the kitchen, bent down to grab something from the lower cabinet, and that’s when I heard it. A small cough. Not mine.

I froze. Slowly, I turned my head, and there he was, my boyfriend’s friend—sitting awkwardly at the edge of the couch, holding a glass of water, eyes wide. _Fuck._ I had completely forgotten he stayed over after their game last night.

He must’ve seen everything. I stood up quickly, heart pounding, pulling the shirt down as best as I could.

He looked away fast and stuttered something like, “Sorry—I thought you knew I was here.”

I laughed it off nervously and told him it was fine. But it wasn’t. My skin was hot. My heart was racing, and I could feel this weird buzz between my legs. I didn’t want to be turned on, but something about being seen like that… it did something to me.

I told him I’d just go back to my room and didn’t make eye contact. But when I got inside and shut the door, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About his eyes. About the way I was bent over, exposed.

I lay down on the bed, legs pressed together, but the heat wouldn’t go away. The hem of the shirt rode up as I shifted, exposing more than I intended. My hand slipped between my thighs almost without thinking, fingers brushing softly against my skin through the fabric. It felt good. Too good.

Then I heard it again. Movement. A soft creak outside my door. My room wasn’t fully closed, just slightly open. Had he followed me? Was he standing there?

I froze, my hand still between my legs. Part of me said to stop. But another part didn’t care. I let out a soft moan, quiet, but not that quiet. Just enough for someone to hear if they were standing next to the door.

I swear I heard a breath catch from behind the door. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t move. I just rubbed a little slower, my body buzzing with guilt and excitement. My shirt slid up further, my thighs spread just enough, and I kept going, wondering if he could see anything through the crack. If he was touching himself too. If he’d come in.

But the door never moved. I finished quietly, biting my lip, heart still racing. Later, when I came out fully dressed, he didn’t say a word. But the way he looked at me, he knew. And I knew he knew.

He was about to say something, but I immediately said, "Did you like it?"

A young woman's quiet morning alone turns into a charged encounter when she's unexpectedly seen by her boyfriend's friend. The unexpected exposure awakens a thrilling mix of guilt and arousal, leading to a secret, silent act of pleasure.

I Masturbated Even Though I Knew His Friend Was Listening

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