"I know." Eleanor's voice was shaky but determined. "But I want to. You showed me yours. You trusted me with that. And I think... I think I need to do this. To stop it from being this thing I'm hiding from everyone, including myself."
Alisa held her gaze. "Are you sure?"
"No." A wet laugh escaped her. "But I'm doing it anyway."
Alisa nodded slowly and waited.
What followed was halting, awkward—Eleanor's fingers trembling as she worked at buttons and fabric. Her breathing was ragged, her face burning, and twice she stopped as if she might change her mind.
Alisa wisely remained silent.
And when it was done—when they sat across from each other, both were exposed in ways that went far beyond the physical—something shifted between them.
"Oh Eleanor," she said softly, looking at the hardened appendage above the younger girl's pussy.
She had been right.
Eleanor's cock was smaller than her own.
It's cute.
[img.png]
(Not really the scene, but about the right comparison)
Eleanor's gaze dropped to herself, then to Alisa, then quickly away. Her hands were shaking where they rested on her thighs, carefully not touching anything.
"It hurts," she admitted in a whisper. "Right now. It's been like this all day and I don't—I can't make it stop—"
"Have you tried to relieve it?"
Eleanor's face went crimson. "I can't. Every time I try, I just—I freeze up. I can't bring myself to touch it. It feels wrong."
Alisa's heart ached for her.
"Would it help," she said slowly, carefully, "if someone else...?"
Eleanor's head snapped up. "What?"
"I could help you. If you wanted." Alisa kept her voice neutral, non-threatening. "Sometimes it's easier when you don't have to do it yourself. When you can just... let go."
Eleanor stared at her, wide-eyed, her mouth working soundlessly.
"I—you—what?"
"Only if you want," Alisa said quickly. "I'm not trying to pressure you. I just know how much it hurts when it builds up like that, and I thought—"
"I've never—" Eleanor's voice cracked. "No one's ever—I haven't even—"
"I know. That's why I'm offering." Alisa held her gaze steadily. "You're in pain, Eleanor. I can help. But only if you want me to."
Silence stretched between them.
Eleanor's breathing was rapid, shallow. Her hands twisted in her lap, and Alisa could see the war playing out across her face—shame battling against need, fear against desperate longing for relief.
"I don't know," Eleanor finally whispered. "I don't—this is all so—I barely know you, and you're asking me to—"
"I'm not asking you anything. I'm offering. There's a difference." Alisa softened her voice. "And if the answer is no, that's perfectly fine. We can just talk. I can teach you how to manage it on your own. Whatever you need."
Eleanor was quiet for a long moment.
Then, in a voice so small Alisa barely heard it: "...okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. I—" Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut, her whole body trembling. "I want you to help me. Please."
Alisa nodded and moved closer, slowly, giving Eleanor every opportunity to change her mind. "I need you to look at me."
Eleanor's eyes fluttered open. They were glassy with unshed tears.
"We go slow," Alisa said. "You tell me to stop, and I stop. No questions. Understood?"
A jerky nod.
"I need to hear you say it."
"I understand," Eleanor breathed. "Please, I—it hurts, Alisa."
"I know. I've got you."
Alisa reached out, her hand hovering just above Eleanor's thigh. "I'm going to touch you now. Is that okay?"
Another nod, more frantic this time.
Alisa's fingers made contact with Eleanor's skin, and the girl flinched violently.
"Sorry," Eleanor gasped. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"It's okay. We'll go slower."
This time, Alisa telegraphed every movement. Her hand slid up Eleanor's thigh at a glacial pace, giving the girl time to adjust, to breathe, to stop her if needed.
When her fingers finally brushed against Eleanor's balls, the girl let out a choked whimper.
"Still okay?" Alisa murmured.
"Y-yes. I think. I don't know." Eleanor's hands were fisted in the bedsheets, her knuckles white.
"It feels—I've never—"
"Just breathe. Focus on breathing."
Alisa cupped her gently, stroking with her thumb in slow, soothing circles. Eleanor's breathing hitched, stuttered, then gradually began to steady.
"That's it," Alisa whispered. "You're doing so well."
"I feel like I'm going to die," Eleanor said weakly.
"You're not going to die. I promise."
With her other hand, Alisa reached for Eleanor's cock. The moment her fingers wrapped around it, Eleanor made a sound like she'd been punched—a strangled, desperate noise that was half moan and half sob.
"Too much?" Alisa asked, stilling immediately.
"No—don't stop—please don't stop—" The words tumbled out in a rush, Eleanor's hips twitching involuntarily. "I just—it's so much—I've never felt—"
"I know. Just let yourself feel it. Don't fight it."
Alisa began to stroke, slow and gentle, her grip firm but careful. Eleanor's whole body was trembling now, her breath coming in sharp little gasps.
"I can't—" Eleanor's voice broke. "Alisa, I think I'm going to—something's happening—"
"That's okay. Let it happen."
"But I—in front of you—I can't—"
"Yes, you can." Alisa increased her pace slightly. "It's okay, Eleanor. I've got you. Just let go."
Eleanor shook her head frantically, even as her hips bucked into Alisa's hand. "I'm scared—"
"I know you are. But you're safe. You're safe with me."
Tears were streaming down Eleanor's face now, her whole body wound tight as a spring. She was close—Alisa could feel it in the way she pulsed against her palm, could see it in the desperate clench of her jaw.
"Let go," Alisa whispered. "It's okay. Let go."
Eleanor's body went rigid.
She came with a broken cry, her hips jerking helplessly. Alisa moved quickly, dropping down and taking Eleanor into her mouth, catching the spurts of her cum on her tongue.
When it was over, she swallowed and pulled back gently, pressing a soft kiss to Eleanor's softening cock before sitting up.
Eleanor was staring at her with an expression of pure shock.
"You—" Her voice was wrecked. "You didn't have to—with your mouth—"
"I wanted to." Alisa wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "Less mess this way."
Eleanor let out a sound that might have been a laugh if it weren't so close to a sob. She was still shaking, tears still tracking down her cheeks, but something in her posture had loosened.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I don't—I can't—thank you."
Alisa sat beside her and pulled her into a gentle embrace. "You're welcome."
They stayed like that for a while, Eleanor trembling in her arms, both of them breathing slowly.
After a while, Eleanor managed to calm herself and break the hug.
She opened her eyes and looked at Alisa with more than a little embarrassment and gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice still unsteady.
Alisa nodded. "You're welcome."
She reached for her clothes, but Eleanor's hand caught her wrist—then immediately let go, as if the contact had burned her.