Names have *obviously* been changed – everything else is completely true.
Rites of passage are funny things; by definition, almost everyone has them. 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.
Melodramatic? Certainly. But for me, absolutely true. For various reasons – the timing, the setting, the fact it was completely unexpected. We haven’t spoken in person for well over a decade and only occasionally interact on social media, but Andi Ingram occupies a unique part of my memory from which she’ll never be usurped.
Andi was the on-off girlfriend of my friend Danny; by the end of our last year of school, as we all turned 18 and made plans to move on with life, they were mostly “off”. 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 Danny and our interactions since then had been confined to brief conversations at parties, and certainly nothing flirtatious.
Not until Danny’s first party of the Summer, anyway. His dad was a commercial airline pilot which meant two things: he had a big house, and was barely there. So Danny’s place became the default party spot. That Saturday night was mostly business as usual – the liquor cabinet had been raided, I’d managed to score some weed and was suddenly the most popular guy in the garden. We were having fun.
As people started to head home or pass out, Andi and I found ourselves deep in conversation sharing what common sense dictated ought to be the last joint of the nigh. She and Danny were formally over and rather than mope, she was taking the opportunity to enjoy the party rather than being Danny’s shadow.
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. We talked music, bitched about our friends, speculated on who might be hooking up with who, and laughed like the stoned idiots we were. As conversations and parties do, things reached their conclusion and we moved on, talking to other people, slowly watching the party fizzle out.
Despite being a large house, Danny’s place only had two bedrooms – his parents’ had been occupied by a couple early in the night and no-one dared disturb them. Danny had disappeared into his room with a girl and at least one other guy, so the living room and kitchen had become human obstacle courses. I’d planned to head home but was far too high to drive so I headed out to grab my sleeping bag from the car. When I returned, the party was officially over – I was the only vertical person in the house. I stood in 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, pillow. But we can share.” There must have been eight other people in the room but she’d managed to make a space that I could fit into – albeit snugly. I slipped into my sleeping bag and did the awkward dance of trying to get undressed in what is essentially a polyester coffin. Andi laughed. She looked cute in an oversize tee and pyjama hot pants.
“Here,” she said, unzipping the sleeping bag so I could take off my jeans. “Don’t make life difficult for yourself. Besides – I don’t have a sheet so if you want some pillow, you’re going to have to trade.” She opened out the sleeping bag and turned it into a makeshift sheet, then pulled it over us both. We put our heads back on the pillow, and immediately realised it wasn’t big enough for two people. I jokingly pulled it away from her, she grabbed it back and hit me with it, and the next thing I know we were tickling each other.
Stifling giggles and play-wrestling, Andi’s body close to mine, her breasts pressing into my arm as her hands liberally attacked my torso, the inevitable happened and my cock started to harden. She pretended not to notice – for a minute – and continued to tickle me. As I started to roll my hips away, though, she started 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 hardening nipple through her t-shirt, before sliding my hand inside her top and feeling the fullness of them in my hand. I shift my position so that I could bring my other hand to her inner thigh – she opened her legs as my hand moved up them, and I started 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 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 gasped when she felt the ridge – I’m tightly circumcised, a rarity in the UK, and most girls at that point had no idea what to do. But Andi did.
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 enveloped 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 of it. 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. But I was literally speechless, and could only sigh as I felt the orgasm ripple through my body, and into the welcoming warmth of Andi’s mouth.
I spasmed two or three times, and she kept her lips locked around me until she was sure I was done, 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 her pathetically grateful I was. I think she knew.