That Time My College Best Friend Turned Me Into a Pussy-Eating Pro And She Loved Every Second of It

Back then, I was a clueless 19-year-old dude who'd hooked up a few times but honestly? I had no idea what I was doing downtown. Like, zero game when it came to going down on a girl. But that's where my best friend Erin came in and changed everything.

We'd been tight since freshman year, but platonic AF. One night, we're chilling in her room after a party, both a little buzzed on cheap beer and shots, and the conversation drifts to sex, like it always did when we got tipsy. She's venting about this guy she dated who was terrible at oral – "He'd just poke around like he was looking for lost keys, no rhythm, no clue." I laugh and admit I'm probably no better. "Yeah, my ex basically patted my head and said 'good try' before faking an orgasm to end it. I feel like I suck at it."

Erin tilts her head, smirking. "Aw, poor you. Guys never get taught this stuff properly. Practice makes perfect, though." We're both giggling now, the room feeling warmer from the booze. She pauses, bites her lip, and says, "You know... if you're serious about getting better, I could, like, give you some pointers sometime"

My heart skips, is she serious? But the way she's looking at me, flushed and playful, I nod. "Uh, yeah? Like, now?" She grins, stands up slowly, and peels off her jeans, leaving her in just a tank top and panties. "Why not? Lock the door." She lays back, props herself on pillows, and slides her panties down a bit. "Come here. Start slow – I'll walk you through it."

Heart pounding, I kneel between her legs, nervous as hell. She starts gentle: "Kiss my thighs first, tease me a little." I follow her lead, trailing my lips up her soft skin, feeling her shiver. Then she pulls her panties aside, and I'm face-to-face with her smooth, pink pussy. "Start with light licks," she whispers, "flat tongue, up and down." I do, tasting her sweetness for the first time – salty, musky, addictive. She moans softly, "Yeah, like that... now circle my clit gently."

The way she directed me? It was hot as fuck. I'd flick my tongue over her clit, and she'd arch her back, grabbing my hair. "Suck it lightly, oh god, yes!" Her breaths got quicker, hips grinding against my face. I could feel her getting wetter, her juices coating my chin. That first time, she came hard – legs shaking, crying out my name. I was hooked.

We made it a thing after that. "Practice sessions," we'd call them, laughing about it. Maybe twice a week, she'd text me: "Study break?" I'd show up, and we'd dive in. Each time, I got better. Learned to read her body, when to go slow and build tension, when to speed up and add fingers. I'd slide one in, curling it just right while sucking her clit, and she'd explode, squirting sometimes, soaking the sheets. "Fuck, you're getting so good," she'd pant, pulling me up for a kiss, tasting herself on my lips.

By senior year, I was a pro. Other girls started noticing: word got around subtly, I guess. But Erin was my secret weapon. We'd hook up fully sometimes, but the oral was always the highlight. She'd beg for it: "Please, eat me out – no one does it like you." Feeling her thighs clamp around my head as she came multiple times? Pure adrenaline.

Fast forward to now, living in the city, and yeah, those skills have served me well all those years later.