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“You could suck it,” he suggested, pressing my hand down with his hand, encouraging me to keep on rubbing him.
“I could suck it,” I answered, with an artful degree of hesitation, as I was attempting to maintain the image of myself as a Good Girl, and showing too much enthusiasm about the potential of giving a blow job seemed to be not conducive in maintaining my Good Girl status.
That didn’t make me quit rubbing him.
I was 21 years old, in my dorm room (a single I’d gotten entirely by accident, much to the detriment of my Good Girl status), on a school night, wearing panties and a tee-shirt with nothing underneath it. He was sitting on my bed; I was curled at his feet. We’d messed around for weeks before he made his suggestion, and although he didn’t know it, I’d made up my mind the previous day that I was going to get his cock into my mouth that very night.
But I wasn’t going to let him know that.
“If you suck it, I’ll return the favor for you,” he offered, with hope.
“Really,” I said non-noncommittally, still rubbing.
“Yes. You’d like it. I’m sure of it.” His hand tweaked my nipple as he spoke. A luscious shiver went through my body as I contemplated this possibility, which had not crossed my innocent little mind yet. I rubbed harder.
“There’s only one problem,” I told him, looking up at him playfully. “I have no idea how to do it.”
“You have no idea how to suck a dick…of course not,” he answered, playing along with me. (Really, what else was he going to do? Argue with me?) “Well, I think it’s pretty easy. You just put it in your mouth and lick it.”
“Really. But I don’t know any techniques! I don’t know how you’re supposed to do it.” I’d affected a dainty whine by this point.
“Techniques…who needs techniques! You just need to give it a kiss.” He’d developed his own small whine too, all in the spirit of playfulness.
“A kiss, like this?” I kissed him through his tighty-whities. He gasped.
“Yes, I think that’s how it’s done,” he told me, his voice low.
“I think I need lessons, truly. I don’t want to mess this up.” (God, what a budding little tease I was! The poor boy!)
“Lessons.” He looked down at me. “Who could give you lessons in how to suck a dick?”
“I could read a book, maybe? I’m sure there’s something in the library about proper technique.”
“You could get a book, tomorrow, I suppose…but what about now?” His penis strained against the fabric of his shorts and against my cheek as we spoke. “You need lessons now, this moment. Who could give you a lesson right now?”
“I don’t know anyone…”
“Oooo there’s your friend XXXXX,” he said, naming someone who lived down the hall from me and who had more experience than both of us put together. “Go knock on her door, dressed exactly like that (my shirt was up over my breasts at this point) and ask her to come down here and give us some lessons, ok?” He was grinning at me.
I giggled up at him, his cock still pressed against my face. “Take it out,” I commanded. “We’ll figure it out ourselves, somehow.”
And we did.
