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By my freshman year of university, I'd done no more than kiss other girls, so I was more than ready for the college cliche — dorm-room experimentation.
We were lying face to face in her bed, and she'd mentioned that her stomach was an erogenous zone. You can't ask for a better opening than that, so I started stroking the strip of exposed flesh between her jeans and her shirt.
After a few quiet moments, she initiated the "what are we doing" talk. I'd had this talk before, and it had always stopped the proceedings. But this time it was clear that we were both curious, so we agreed that it was a one-time thing between friends, and didn't have to become anything more than that. Once we reached that agreement, we began making out in earnest. Those dorm-room beds weren't very wide so our tumbling back and forth — each of us trying to be on top — was a little risky. It was like we both wanted to have our way with the other, but neither of us would give in.
Eventually I won that battle, getting her out of her jeans and settling down between her legs. I'd never gone down on a girl — not even close — but I'd had it done to me enough times that I figured I could wing it. I slid my fingers inside of her and began licking her and the reaction was immediate. I had to use my free arm to pin her hips to the bed and hold her still as she bucked and writhed on the bed.
Had I not been so eager to "do it right," I would have drawn things out a bit more. As it was, I was practically running a race to get her to orgasm. The sounds she was making were incredibly gratifying, and making her come made me feel like a superhero.
— Nicole Edson
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