I'm not sure where this came from; I've never written erotica before. Earlier this week I felt a sudden, burning need to put to words some memories of an experience I'd had in my youth; a silly thing where I helped a good friend better understand herself and her desires, while (eventually) getting off a bit in the process.

I know this is going to be rather rough and crude, but I hope you enjoy!

This is a memory, so sweet.

I was in my early 20s. She was 19, a small, stern Korean. Both of us were university students, but at separate colleges, a bit further apart than was sensible. We had met on a dating site, took to chatting on AIM (remember that?), and hit it off straight away, though not in the manner that one is usually hoping for; they were cordial, substantive, but exclusively 'friendly'. It happens! As it was, I genuinely enjoyed our little chats. We shared similar temperaments: typically quite serious, bright, snarky, and rather judgemental while still truly knowing very little about the world. Absolutely, and rightfully, insufferable to some, but together, we just clicked.

It took a bit to organize, but eventually we did meet. Our first outing together was lunch together, and absolutely 'not a date', she helpfully clarified after we'd made our plans. Good to know! It was pleasant, and mercifully our chemistry flowed naturally from text to in-person. We changed our plans to go on a walk in a park together afterwords, rather than heading straight home. I had a great time, but again, it was not a date. A week or two later, we made round two happen. These periodic, friendly get-togethers became routine. We went shopping, played some board games, watched some pirated shows, and were generally fast friends. I wish, for the life of me, I could remember exactly how it came up one time that she hadn't seen a penis in person before.

I was far more socially awkward than suave, and my immediate feeling was frankly more sudden discomfort than anything like arousal, like being in a passenger seat watching the driver swerve into a sudden wrong turn. I kind of stuttered a bit, mentally reaching for a suitable response; I think what I managed to produce was "oh, really?". "Can I see yours?" she continued, in bad erotica fashion. Puzzlement, fear, and doubt swelled in my heart, entirely overwhelming my abruptly stirred sense of lust. I remember fobbing lame, anxious excuses and deflections, like suggesting we look online instead, to which she flatly retorted that she was curious about seeing mine, specifically, and so she thought she'd ask. I admit, it didn't take that much placating to wrangle my reluctant compliance.

What followed was far more clinical than pornographic. My pants off, her clothing quite intact. Very hands-on, but in an inquisitive, probing fashion. Much observance was made of changes in size, shape, and texture across cycles of hardness and (eventually slightly bored) softness. There appeared to be some fascination at the way my balls shifted and moved. At no point did she stroke it, nor do anything else deliberately stimulating. No ejaculation occurred (or rather, not until after I got some privacy). Eventually, she said something like "hey, thanks", with a bit of a note of finality to it. I awkwardly got my bottoms back on, not as I got myself together that only did she start to seem in any way uncomfortable or apprehensive. In long retrospect, I'm not certain she had expected me to hesitate whatsoever, and perhaps the implications of that began to sink in. We got dinner, without mention of our encounter.

We didn't chat about what happened, either. A significant, rather stiff part of me desperately wanted to, but I couldn't find the right words. I did the mature thing, started a conversation, and tried chatting her up... about the show episode we'd watched earlier that evening. Regular dialog ensued. I most certainly did not forget, nor I'm certain did she. But, when we next hung out, it was entirely normal, and I was a bit sad that no penis touching ensued at any point. The next 'incident' was not until the following occasion.

She said that she had been thinking, as I was thinking over my move in our game, and she wanted to know what I thought of her pussy, given that she'd gotten to inspect my junk (which was "pretty nice"). A panic, much like the one before, overcame me, but I will readily admit that there had been some part of me hoping and waiting for this... or something like it, anyway. After I consented to answer, she stood up, stripped off her jeans and panties, and just kind of stood there. A bit uncertain, I kneeled, took a quick look at the item, and then informed her that it looked great! Her response was more irritated than anything. "No, tell me what you really think,". My response had apparently been too reflexive to be authentic. I asked her to sit down, so I could get a fuller picture.

And so, I looked. Unlike her, I did not touch, nor did she take the initiative to invite me to do so. It was a pussy, of course a very welcome sight indeed. I did my best to provide her with the desired critique (a comment that trimming a bit more might be worth a try seemed particularly placating). When I seemed to run out of things to say, she thanked me, and resumed decency. But! We stepped away from our game. This time, we actually talked, discussing a bit about what had just transpired.

She expressed that sexuality was a thing that she was increasingly curious about, not having had prior experience. She'd dated, sure, and we'd already had a fair number of conversations about the challenges and highs of young relationships (if moreso the former; it was in both our natures to be a bit dispassionate, at least outwardly), but none that had 'progressed' beyond a few kisses. It came out that our ongoing connection felt comfortable, and I trustworthy, in a manner that lead to her feeling in a place that she could explore some of that curiosity. She thought I was attractive, but she was not either 'in love' or (she thought) 'in lust' with me. We were certainly still not dating, and we would not kiss, she was adamant. I was a good and trustworthy friend, the owner of a toy she was interested in borrowing, in order to see what she thought of it. We would do as we've been, and I could help her understand some things sometimes.

I cannot tell you the relief of finally actually talking about what had transpired between us. The weight of my chest was immense. But, I remember more clearly where that conversation lead to next: it eventually came up that while she had masturbated, and enjoyed it, it hadn't exactly occurred to her that it was a skill, something one could get better at. What followed was her losing her panties once again, and a coached, guided session of self-pleasure. I summoned up every scrap of clitoral knowledge and technique I could remember from past girlfriends and girl friends, scrutinizing her motions and nether regions with far greater (and harder) intensity than our previous session. Under my gaze, following my direction, she brought herself to what she said was her first true orgasm; it was a quiet affair, by the standards of many women, a shudder and a gasping groan. These days, I know to doubt her claim, though I want to believe. Nevertheless, she certainly did seem a bit stunned after it happened, and the smile she eventually put on after coming to is emblazoned in my memory as much as the act itself. "That could be very addictive," she commented. Indeed it was.

My 'instruction' on her pleasure became part of our routine. So long as we had one of our places to ourselves, she wanted to cum before we got around to doing anything else. While electrically exciting, this did not take long to actually become a bit stressful; there's only so much to actually say, you know? By the third session, we opened up the door to exploring her fingering and penetrating herself, exploring the nuances of the G-spot, though she admitted to me after the fact that she had done some practical "study ahead" on her own time. Throughout, I remained chaste; after her session and a bit of panting, back on her clothes would go, and we'd go about our other business. As promised, there was no kissing, nor cuddling. We did usually hug goodbye, but that was as personally intimate as it got. Much seed was spilled following these evenings, but some part of me was enjoying letting her set her own pace like this.

When, one time, she said she wanted to try putting my cock in her mouth, you can imagine how ready I was. Unfortunately, that's about all it was. First, just the lips; eventually, painfully slowly, she brought the bulb past them, gagged, repeated the insertion, and just kind of... held it there. An attempt to provide some suggestion on motions to take had her shake her head, spit it out, and say she wasn't ready for that, yet. I was probably harder than I'd ever been in my life at that point, but I sucked it up, apologized, and she resumed her practice. Towards the end, I think she tried to get a bit more experimental with her tongue, but stopped swiftly and said that she would need more practice, because she really didn't like the sense of choking or gagging. For fuck's sake. I respected her wishes, and I think (and hope) I didn't even really whine about it, but I don't even remember what it was that we did after that. Endless thoughts of flooding the back of her throat was the sole thought my mind could manage.

We continued. Sometimes, she would play with herself; sometimes, she would lightly suckle me. The second time we did the latter; she remarked that she enjoyed my very abundant precum (as if I needed more encouragement to be aroused). Gradually, over the course of a couple of irregular sessions sessions, months that felt far longer, she made progress swallowing my pole. We went to a sex toy shop and bought her her first vibrator, and I got to watch her break it in. Life was good... though obviously it could be much better still.

The first time I came in her mouth, it was an accident, and I'm kind of shocked it hadn't happened earlier. We hadn't really discussed this part yet (for shame); perhaps it was some unexpected improvement in her skills, but I felt that edge approach suddenly and without enough warning. "Oh, fuck!" I mouthed. She seemed to understand the implication, and to her blessed credit, the darling did not stop or let go. There was gagging (sorry!), dribbling, but her lips were locked on to me until my load was done. Spitting followed, along with more gagging. "Yeah, I don't like that as much as the precum" she remarked. I just stared at her with glassy eyes, too overwhelmed to really speak for some time. I remember feeling pretty embarrassed and distinctly self-conscious, both because I hadn't properly prepared her for that, and because I can't help but be, um, more than a bit loud during climax. I imagine I had some less than enthused dorm neighbors at the moment.

After that, at least, the dam was broken. Each time we got together, I got some much needed release. Admittedly, some of that was by my own hand; after having been there for my orgasm, she started to want to see me do it to myself. She seemed to get mesmerized by my stroking, and I don't know that I ever saw her eyes widen quite as much as watching the spurts of cum coming out of me after my first performance for her. I later did manage to get that flood down her throat, and that began to become a regular request from her (laying the seeds for begging and cum play kinks I have to this day). Playtime got longer and longer, as interest in additional rounds became a thing, and it admittedly did begin to interfere a bit with our time for doing other things.

And so we went. Some other highlights I remember:

• I started going down on her, at my insistence. I had been enjoying her own pace, but it wasn't sitting right with me that she'd made me cum and I hadn't returned the favor. She seemed maybe a bit surprised by the proposal, but accepted; getting to feel her cum on my tongue was amazing, and just felt right at this point.
• I finally got to see her fully naked. She was self-conscious about her small tits, and hadn't been particularly interested in showing them off, but we did eventually take to exploring the wonderful world of her nipples. More sensitive, I have rarely seen.
• Eventually, we fucked, her mounting me. We continued to do so periodically throughout our time together, though I think she ultimately preferred oral sex, both giving and receiving.
• After actual proper discussion this time (we learned!) and medication, I got to give her her first creampie. I watched her finger herself and rub her clit with my cum after; I was left with no choice or greater desire in the world but to put another one in her. She really liked them, more so than the fucking itself. I had no reservations on eating her out after, and she deeply appreciated that.

But what didn't happen:

• We never did kiss. Some brief cuddling would happen post-fucking, most of the time, but she often either decided to go again, or that we were done.
• One of my greatest regrets in life was never getting to explore her asshole together. Anal has always been my biggest kink, but I didn't want to raise it if she didn't. The fantasy of violating that cute tiny butt remains a powerful one for me to this day.
• We never 'upgraded' the relationship. We still maintained our friendly, supportive connection throughout, but our chats became pretty sex focused, and we didn't make too much time for other activities.

All good things must come to an end. As other parts of our lives got busier, the logistics of getting together became increasingly challenging. Finally, the news came that she had a boyfriend, now, someone she was actually dating, and she didn't feel it appropriate that we continue (I'd had two girlfriends in this span, of which she was aware. "So long as you've got plenty of cum for me, it's fine"). With the closure of that door, the platonic side of our hangouts largely ceased as well. We continued to chat, off-and-on, for a few years after, but you know how it goes, when life takes you in different directions.

But, the memories... those I shall treasure for all my days and lonely nights to come. I hope she is happy and full of jizz, wherever she is now.