My Friend Got Me My First Blowjob

My name is Daniela, I’m past twenty now, and although I’ve been writing my stories for a while, I always come back to one of the first times I felt genuinely curious about doing something unfamiliar. I’m not talking about kissing or letting someone touch me over my clothes. I’m talking about putting a cock in my mouth for the first time, knowing exactly what I was going to do and going after it out of sheer kink.

It came after a recent sexual experience that had left me unsettled. I’d enjoyed it more than I expected—that much was obvious—but it had also left me with uncomfortable questions. I wanted to understand why thinking about certain things turned me on so much and, above all, why the idea of sucking cock had lodged itself in my head for days.

I tried to carry on with my life normally, but the curiosity wouldn’t go away. I caught myself imagining what it would taste like, whether I’d gag, whether I’d be able to open my mouth wide enough, whether I’d dare let someone push my head down. It made me laugh and feel embarrassed at the same time. Sometimes I told myself it was no big deal; other times I got wet just thinking about it.

The first person I told was Nadia, my best friend. I always spoke to her without a filter, and that day I told her everything in a café, quietly but without sparing any details. She listened with that amused expression of hers, leaned her elbows on the table, and smiled as if she already knew where she was going to push me.

“So you slept with him, but you didn’t suck him off,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“No. It was left unfinished,” I admitted, stirring my coffee for no reason. “And now I’m curious, but the thought of him coming disgusts me.”

Nadia let out a soft laugh.

“A lot of women say that the first time. Then you discover what you do and don’t like. But if you really want to try, I know someone perfect.”

I looked at her, already suspecting some kind of madness was coming.

“I don’t like that smile. What are you thinking?”

“My brother.”

I almost knocked over my cup.

“Are you out of your mind?” I said immediately. “No way.”

“Hear me out before you make a scene. He’s always said he thinks you’re gorgeous. He won’t judge you. And precisely because there’s no commitment or weird history between you, it can be just that: a blowjob and nothing else. You try it, he enjoys it, and nobody gets hurt.”

I shook my head, though not as convincingly as I would have liked. Just imagining it already turned me on. Her brother, Mauro, was a few years older than us, tall and calm, with large hands and a steady gaze. He’d never tried anything with me, but I had noticed more than once how his eyes traveled over me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

“I don’t want him to think I’m some kind of slut,” I murmured.

“If you agree, he’ll think you’re a woman who wants to learn,” she replied, very seriously. “And I swear he’ll know how to guide you. If you don’t want to fuck him afterward, you don’t fuck him. Nobody’s forcing you to do anything.”

I told her I’d think about it, just to end the subject. But that same night, already in bed, I couldn’t sleep peacefully. I thought about kneeling in front of Mauro, unzipping his pants, seeing his cock get hard near my face. I thought about my lips wetting it and the sound of my nervous breathing. I ended up sliding my hand between my legs and coming just from that fantasy.

Two days later, Nadia showed up practically bouncing with excitement.

“He agreed,” she blurted out without preamble. “I told him you were curious, that you wanted to do it without pressure, and he said whenever you wanted.”

My stomach lurched. It wasn’t a game anymore. There was already a man waiting for my mouth.

I spent the whole week turning it over in my mind. I watched porn alone, not to get horny but to study. I watched how they gripped the cock, how they moved their tongues, how they breathed when they took it deeper. I told myself I didn’t want to look clumsy, even though deep down I knew I’d be trembling.

The plan came together with ridiculous ease. Nadia asked me to help her with a few work-related things, and we arranged to meet in the afternoon. Then, according to the official version, we’d go out for a walk. In reality, she would stay with her boyfriend in one room of a friend’s apartment, while Mauro and I would have another room to ourselves.

Everything was so organized that it made me even more nervous.

The day arrived, and I put on a simple blouse, a black bra that made my tits look good, and tight jeans. It wasn’t lingerie or anything special, but it was clothing I knew suited me. While I was getting ready, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought: if you’re going to do it, at least do it without pretending you don’t want to.

When I arrived, Nadia greeted me with a conspiratorial smile. Mauro was in the living room, leaning against a wall, wearing a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. We greeted each other with a cheek kiss that was far too ordinary for what was going to happen later. That was precisely why my legs trembled even more.

We went upstairs, and within a few minutes my friend disappeared with her boyfriend. I stood in the hallway with Mauro, listening to a door close at the far end. He looked at me calmly, without overdoing the smile or acting cocky. It relaxed me a little.

“If you want to leave, we’ll leave,” he said. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“I don’t want to leave,” I answered almost at once, surprised by how firm my voice sounded.

He nodded and opened the bedroom door.

Inside there was a large bed, a lamp switched on, and the distant noise of the city coming through a half-open window. He closed the door behind us, but didn’t come closer right away. He gave me space, as if he wanted me to take the final step on my own. That gesture, more than any words, finally pushed me forward.

“I’ve never done this before,” I confessed.

“I know. And I’m not going to rush you,” he replied. “Kiss me first. The rest will come naturally.”

I approached and kissed him cautiously. His lips were warm, the roughness of his newly grown beard brushed my skin, and his hands settled on my waist without squeezing. The second kiss was already different. More open. Wetter. I parted my lips farther myself and let his tongue enter. As soon as I felt it, my nerves loosened, and that low heat I already knew spread through my lower belly.

His hands began moving slowly over my back, dropped to my hips, and then rose to my tits over my blouse. He squeezed them firmly without being rough, and I let out a silly moan against his mouth. He noticed immediately.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Don’t hold anything back.”

He kissed me again while unbuttoning my blouse. I raised my arms, and he slipped it off slowly without taking his eyes off me. The black bra remained between us like an obvious invitation. Mauro ran a thumb along the edge of one cup and then slipped his hand inside to touch my nipple. It hardened instantly. I closed my eyes and let air escape through my nose, already wet, already genuinely aroused.

“You have beautiful tits,” he said quietly.

The compliment turned me on more than it should have. He unhooked my bra from behind and let it fall. When the air touched my nipples, he lowered his head and took one into his mouth. He sucked calmly, circling it with his tongue while kneading my other tit with one hand. I grabbed his hair and arched my back, feeling desire run straight down to my pussy.

“Fuck,” I whispered. “You’re not helping me calm down.”

He laughed against my skin and kept sucking me for a few more seconds. Then he pulled away and looked at me as if assessing whether I was still nervous. Not so much anymore. Now I was hot, impatient, and I think my breathing made that obvious.

“Do you still want to try?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Yes.”

“Then get on your knees only if you feel like it. Not because I have to order you to.”

Even so, I did it immediately. I knelt in front of him on the carpet, my heart pounding against my chest. From down there he looked huge, not so much because of his size as because of how direct the scene was. Me, already out of my bra, tits bare, kneeling in front of a man who watched me without blinking.

Mauro unbuckled his belt, lowered the zipper, and opened his pants. He slipped a hand inside his boxers and pulled out his half-hard cock. Thick, clean, darker at the tip. Seeing it so close left me speechless. I felt a mixture of curiosity, hunger, and a strange kind of respect. This wasn’t a video. It was a real cock in front of my face.

“Touch it,” he said.

I took it in one hand. It was hot and heavier than I’d imagined. I moved it slowly up and down, clumsily at first, watching it finish hardening. He breathed more deeply. I continued, learning with my hand, feeling the skin slide.

“That’s good,” he murmured. “Don’t be afraid.”

I leaned in and kissed the tip, barely brushing it. It hardly tasted of anything, just clean skin with a slightly salty touch. That reassured me. I kissed it again, more firmly, then stuck out my tongue and ran it around the head. Mauro let out a restrained moan, the kind a man makes when he’s trying not to impose but genuinely likes what’s happening.

That sound gave me confidence. I opened my mouth wider and licked from underneath to the tip, slowly, feeling the smooth texture, the heat, and the taste becoming clearer. I wasn’t disgusted anymore. It turned me on. A lot.

“Take it a little,” he instructed.

I did. I wrapped my lips around the tip and began lowering it just a few inches. Then I went back up. I repeated the movement, more slowly. My hand kept masturbating him at the same time. He stroked my hair, moving it away from my face, and that made me feel strangely comfortable, as if he really was guiding me rather than using me.

“Relax your jaw,” he said. “Breathe through your nose. Don’t try to do it perfectly.”

I obeyed. I took him again and lowered farther. When I felt him touch the back of my mouth, I recoiled reflexively, coughing a little. My eyes burned from the shock. Mauro immediately took a step back.

“It’s okay. Nothing’s wrong.”

I breathed deeply, embarrassed and aroused at the same time.

“I want to keep going.”

“Then go at your own pace.”

I put him back in my mouth, this time more carefully. The head, then a little more, then almost halfway. My lips were getting used to him. My tongue circled the base of the head every time I came back up. I heard his breathing above me, heavier and looser, and I began to enjoy not only the sensation of having him in my mouth, but also the power to make him feel that way.

I slipped one hand between his legs and stroked his balls the way I’d seen people do. He let out a rougher moan.

“Fuck... yes, like that.”

That praise made me even sluttier. I got bolder, pulling his cock all the way out and licking his long shaft from base to tip before taking him back into my mouth. I wasn’t as scared anymore. I was greedy. I could feel myself wetting the carpet between my knees.

“Look at me,” he asked.

I raised my eyes without stopping sucking him, and the expression on his face made me squeeze my thighs together. It wasn’t tenderness. It was pure, grateful, dirty desire. He looked at me hungrily. He loved seeing me on my knees.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

The words went through me completely. I don’t know why, but they got me incredibly worked up. I gripped the base more firmly and began sucking with a faster rhythm, moving my head up and down while my tongue worked the tip every time it emerged. The wet sound of my mouth filled the room. Mauro stroked my hair and, every now and then, pushed his hips forward slightly to set the pace.

I wanted to try more. I pulled his cock out, breathed deeply, and looked at him.

“Put it a little deeper,” I asked.

“If you give me the signal, I’ll stop.”

I nodded.

I opened my mouth again, and he entered slowly. Very slowly. I flattened my tongue and tried to relax my throat. When I felt him touch the back of it, I gagged, but I didn’t pull away right away. I gripped his thighs, breathed through my nose, and endured it for one more second. Then two. My eyes filled with involuntary tears, and he withdrew just enough to give me air.

“That’s it. That’s how you learn,” he said.

I was trembling, but not from fear. From the intensity. There was something brutally arousing about letting him use my mouth a little, feeling the weight of his cock going as deep as my body could barely accept.

We tried several times. He went in, I held him as far as I could, he came out, I breathed, and we started again. Each attempt left me more open and more accustomed to it. During one of them, when my eyes were already burning and saliva was running from the corner of my mouth, I was the one who pulled him closer by the legs to sink him deeper. I felt the tip hit my throat and had a dry gag, but I didn’t pull away. Mauro let out a deep moan and held my head without forcing it, simply moving with me.

“Fuck, Daniela... you’re doing so well.”

That sentence filled me with an absurdly hot sense of pride. I kept sucking him eagerly, alternating depth with slower passes over the tip. When I couldn’t take any more, I masturbated him with plenty of saliva and sucked his balls, taking one into my mouth and playing with my tongue around it while my hand kept moving up and down. He was already very hard, very sensitive; I could feel it in the spasms of his legs and the way his abdomen tightened.

I was about to explode too. Without him asking, I slid my hand inside my jeans and panties. My pussy was drenched. I began rubbing my clitoris while continuing to suck. The contrast between having him in my mouth and touching myself below made me moan around his cock. Mauro felt it and looked at me, surprised and wildly aroused.

“Does it turn you on that much?”

I took my mouth off him for a second to answer, panting.

“Yes. So much.”

“Then don’t stop.”

I didn’t stop. On the contrary, I took him again and sped up. My hand moved quickly over my clitoris, my mouth worked him hungrily, and the room filled with wet sounds, broken breathing, and the occasional dirty word I said without even thinking first.

“Your cock tastes so good,” I murmured before swallowing him again.

He moaned louder.

“I’m going to come soon.”

I pulled my mouth off him and looked at him, still stroking him.

“Not in my mouth. I can’t handle that yet.”

“Okay. Where do you want it?”

The question turned me on even more. I looked at my bare tits and answered almost without thinking.

“Shoot it here.”

I stood up to make the angle easier for him, but Mauro pulled me onto the bed and reclined me halfway, leaving my back supported by the headboard. My breasts were raised in front of him, and my jeans were still on, although my hand was already wet inside them. He pulled his cock all the way out and began masturbating quickly in front of me. I couldn’t stop looking.

“Take those off,” he said, pointing at my pants.

I hurriedly pulled them down along with my underwear and spread my legs. The air hit my soaked pussy full-on. Mauro looked down and exhaled sharply.

“You’re dripping.”

“Because of you.”

He didn’t answer. He knelt between my legs and, before coming, shoved two fingers into my pussy. They slid in easily because I was so wet. I jerked and let out an open moan.

“I wanted to see how wet you were,” he said, moving them inside me. “And fuck, you’re squeezing so nicely.”

His thumb found my clitoris and began rubbing it in circles while his fingers moved in and out. Pleasure rose through me in such a sudden wave that I almost forgot we were still waiting for him to come. I spread my legs wider, grabbed the sheets, and let him touch me without restraint. My hips sought out his hand on their own.

“That’s it... don’t stop...” I panted.

He pulled out his fingers, dripping wet, and brought them to his mouth for a second while looking at me. The gesture nearly finished me. Then he moved over me again, his cock hard and shining in his hand, and began masturbating between my tits. I pressed them together for him, watching the head slide between them.

“Look at me when I come,” he ordered, his voice already hoarse.

I did. I rubbed my clitoris desperately while he moved faster and faster. His abdomen tensed, his thighs tightened, and he let out a long moan just before he came. The first burst landed hot on my chest, thick and white. Then another, higher up, near my neck. Another over the curve of one breast. The heat of his cum on my skin gave me a mixture of shock and kink that made me rub myself even harder.

“Fuck...” I murmured, watching it run.

Mauro kept milking himself for a few final drops, breathing hard. I stared, fascinated, at the semen spread over my breasts. I dipped two fingers into one of the white streaks and lifted them slowly. I hesitated for a second. Only one. Then I brought them to my mouth.

The taste was different from what I expected: salty, thick, a little harsh. I didn’t love it, but it didn’t disgust me as much as I’d feared. Above all, it turned me on to taste it that way, freshly out of him, looking into his eyes while I savored it.

“Well?” he asked with half a smile, still panting.

I sucked my finger slowly before answering.

“I wouldn’t go crazy eating it for breakfast,” I said, and we both laughed. “But it’s not that bad either.”

He lowered his head and kissed me. This time the kiss tasted of a mixture of saliva, sweat, and something dirtier that no longer frightened me. His hand returned between my legs and went back to my clitoris as if he didn’t want to leave me unfinished.

“Now it’s your turn to finish,” he murmured.

He didn’t need to insist. He opened my legs wider and put two fingers inside me again, curling them inward until he found the spot that made me arch. With his other hand, he pinched one nipple, still stained with his cum. I writhed beneath him, no longer carrying a trace of shame, moaning his name louder and louder.

“Mauro, don’t stop... there... right there, fuck...”

He obeyed. A firm rhythm with his fingers, constant pressure on my clitoris, and that fixed stare watching me come apart. It didn’t take long. I was so full of tension, kink, and pent-up desire that the orgasm hit me hard. I came trembling, squeezing his wrist with one hand and digging the other into his shoulder. I closed my thighs around his arm while my pussy clenched in short, violent spasms.

I let out a sudden breath and lay there, chest rising and falling, body limp, skin sticky.

He slowly withdrew his hand and watched me as if he wanted to make sure I was all right. I smiled at him, still dazed.

“Well,” I said at last. “Now I know what it’s like to suck cock.”

Mauro let out a low laugh and dropped down beside me.

“And not bad for your first time.”

We stayed like that for a few minutes, catching our breath. Then he handed me some wipes from the bathroom and helped me clean my chest. The gesture was so simple and so free of drama that I liked it. He didn’t turn what had happened into something romantic that it wasn’t, but he didn’t make it cold either. It was exactly what I’d been looking for: a real, intense, dirty, and strangely comfortable experience.

Before leaving the room, I looked at myself in the mirror again. My hair was messy, my lips slightly swollen, and I had a satisfied expression I couldn’t hide. I was no longer the same woman who had entered with her nerves in knots.

I learned several things that afternoon. That curiosity can be stronger than embarrassment. That a first blowjob doesn’t have to be a disaster. That gagging can be controlled better than you think. And that when a woman decides to explore without pretending to be a saint, her body responds with brutal honesty.

I also learned something simpler: once you’ve experienced the power of making a man moan because of what you do with your mouth, it’s very hard to pretend you didn’t like it.