Rites of passage are funny things; by definition, almost everyone has them. And yet they feel so specific. Unique.

And they’re trivial - your first relationship, your first breakup, the first time you take a bold fashion risk which really doesn’t pay off. But they’re yours, and as such they feel unique. Like you’re feeling something that’s never been felt before, discovering a part of life hitherto uncharted. Entering a bold new world, similar to but fundamentally different from the one you lived in before.

That’s how it feels to receive your first blowjob.

And so it is Andi Ingram occupies a unique part of my memory from which she’ll never be usurped.

She was cute - mixed-race Latina, with big brown eyes, straight jet-black hair, and full lips which emphasised her huge smile. Curvy, with full breasts she didn’t show off but didn’t need to. She seemed nice, but we’d never really bonded - the first night we met, she’d hooked up with my friend Danny and our interactions since then had been confined to brief conversations at parties, and certainly nothing flirtatious.

Appropriately enough it was a party at Danny’s house that Andi and I found ourselves deep in conversation. We were sharing what common sense dictated ought to be the last joint of the night, as she explained that she and Danny - “whatever that situation was” - were through. She wasn’t fazed though. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying the party more than anyone. Holding court in the garden, we traded jokes. Each time I made her laugh, she touched my arm softly.

And she was hilarious! I was almost annoyed that she’d spent a year letting Danny - a good guy, but not the most interesting person in any room containing at least one other human - take the spotlight. As conversations and parties do, things reached their conclusion and we moved on, talking to other people, slowly watching the evening fizzle out.

Danny’s place only had two bedrooms - both occupied -so the living room and kitchen had become human obstacle courses. I barely cleared them on the way out to my car and stumbled out of the house. I was far too high to drive.

I grabbed the emergency sleeping bag I kept in the trunk and headed back in to find that I was the only vertical person in the house. I was standing in the doorway of the living room, looking for something - anything - to fall asleep on, when I heard a whisper.

“Over here! I found pillows!”

It was Andi.

“Well, a pillow. But we can share.”

There must have been eight other people in the room but she was lying diagonally across the floor, saving a space that I could fit into - snugly. She looked cute in an oversize tee and pyjama hot pants.

I sat down next to her and pulled the sleeping bag over myself, wriggling from side to side as I performed the awkward dance of trying to get undressed in a polyester coffin.

“Sorry,” I whispered, crashing into Andi. “I’m really uncomfortable sleeping in my jeans.”

Andi laughed.

“Don’t make life difficult for yourself,” she said. She unzipped the sleeping bag, giving me space to slide my jeans off. I reached down to fasten it back up but Andi put her hand out to stop me.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she whispered. “I don’t have anything to sleep under so if you want some pillow, you’re going to have to trade.”

Andi pulled the sleeping bag open, and I felt the cool air on my legs. She opened it out to form a makeshift sheet, then pulled it over the both of us. She rolled onto her side and put her head on the pillow. I did the same. I lowered my head, and felt the rough texture of carpet against my face.

Andi and I looked at each other and began to laugh. The pillow was too small. I lifted my head and jokingly pulled it away from her. She snatched it back, and raised it up as if to hit me with it. As she lifted her arm, I put my hand out and tickled her. Her hand came down on my side and she tickled me back.

I don’t know how long we lay there stifling giggles and play-wrestling. Time stood still. Andi pushed her body against mine, her breasts pressing into my arm as her hands liberally attacked my torso. It wasn’t long before the inevitable happened and my cock started to harden. She pretended not to notice - for a minute - and continued to tickle me in broader strokes, moving her hands down my body.

Soon I was so turned on that it was poking into Andi’s leg. I rolled my hips away from her. I wasn’t confident enough to leave it there. But as it jutted out to her side, she began to ‘tickle’ my erect dick, running her fingers up and down the shaft, through my boxers.

I brought my hand up to her waist and with her free hand, she guided it to her breasts. I started to stroke her nipple and felt it harden through her t-shirt before sliding my hand inside her top. Her breast was firm and full in my hand. I shifted my position so I could bring my other hand to her inner thigh - she opened her legs as my hand moved up them.

I reached the warmth of her pussy and pushed my finger hard to stroke her clit in a circular motion through her pyjamas. We teased each other through our clothes for what felt like an age - not quite committing to hooking up, just enjoying the novelty. Her, grinding her clit into the palm of my hand and quietly moaning, her fingers keeping a tight enough grip as they moved up my cock but then opening into a palm when she reached the head. It was unbearable and bliss at the same time.

Starting to lose control, I slid a finger into the gap between her thigh and her shorts and immediately felt how wet she was. She moved ever-so-slightly, and my finger slipped inside her. She gasped with relief. I curled my fingertip up until I felt her g-spot and started to stroke it, as I felt her grip on my cock tighten.

The room was full of people and space was limited, so we were trying to keep our movements subtle and that only made things hotter. She pulled my cock out of my boxers and wrapped her fingers around the shaft. She inhaled sharply as she felt the ridge of my head on her skin, and slowly enveloped it with her hand. I’m tightly circumcised, a rarity in the UK, and many girls don’t know what to do with it. Andi paused for a moment.

She pushed me onto my back, put her head under the sleeping bag, and lowered her mouth to my cock. I was trembling - I couldn’t believe this was happening. She wrapped those beautiful lips around the head, ran her tongue over the tip…and then pulled away. I was in shock.

“Please…” I practically moaned, as she rested her head on my chest, looking into my eyes. I’ll never forget her smile - she knew she had me in the palm of her hand, absolute putty, and she was loving it.

“Too many people,” she explained. I wanted to accept it - there’s no way everyone in that room was asleep - but I think she wanted me to beg. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please put me in your mouth”

She seemed to consider this for a minute, and then her head started moving down my body. I lifted the sleeping bag so I could see as she looked up at me with those eyes, opened her gorgeous lips, and slowly took me into her mouth.

As my cock was blanketed by the warmth of her mouth and what I now realise was the kind of expert technique that comes with someone who loves to suck cock, I felt like the entire world had stopped. I have no idea how long it lasted - but I remember every second.

Her head bobbing as I ran my fingers through her hair, the thrill as she stopped briefly and ran her tongue around my head, teasing me, and the thrill - and fear - as I realised I was going to cum.

I tried to warn her, but I was literally speechless with pleasure. I could only sigh as the orgasm rippled through my body.

My cock spasmed in Andi’s mouth. I braced myself for her to let go of me, but she kept her lips locked around my tip as the cum poured out. It was the best thing I’d ever felt - the warmth soothing me, holding me until she was sure I was done. I heard the muffled gagging sound as she swallowed my load. She let my dick fall out of her mouth, then looked up at me and smiled the dirtiest, prettiest, most incredible smile.

Somehow, that was all that ever happened with Andi. We didn’t even speak about it until years later, when she expressed surprise - and pride - that she’d been my first. I never told her how pathetically grateful I was. I think she knew.