A dial inside my head turned from 9 to 10. “Fuck.” I hastily dismounted her, unbuckled, and undid my fly.

“Andrea, I don’t know if you’re ready…”

“I’m extremely ready, damn it.” She had been compelling before, but now she was irresistible.

I peeled off my pants, then tried to pull her boxers off while she was seated, but she gently curled her long fingers around my hands and told me, “I’m not ready, okay?”

My heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s and my body was driving me forward at a mile a second and she was asking me to take a leisurely stroll like it was a balmy July afternoon— (And while it was July 12^th in sunny Southern California, we were only a few miles from the chilly Pacific and the sun had set hours ago, so it was starting to cool off outside.) —whereas I was in the mood for a cross country sprint. On the brink of devastation, I stared. I gently, quietly, breathlessly explained, “(You… You said we were fuckbuddies. Fuckbuddies, they, you know… they fuck.)”

“I did say that. But right now I’m telling you I’m not ready to go all the way.”

I groaned and plopped down next to her. “I feel a need.”

“Horny?”

I caught my mouth before I could respond as I realized, ((Wait. You know I’m a virgin, but you might be under the misconception that I’m one of those innocent virgins, rather than one of the pathetic femcel)) variety… and innocent is sexy. As naïvely as I could, I asked, “This is what being horny is like? I’ve never felt this way before. It’s like… a… a strange kind of tension, almost like… anxiety, but different because… it has this extra physical aspect to it. My body is telling me, ‘Do something with your genitals,’ but I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to do until I’ve already started doing it. Is this what ‘horniness’ is?”

“Yep. And you’re not always going to have someone to help you resolve it, so you need to learn how to take care of it yourself.”

“Are you saying… I need to…” I dropped to a loud, scandalized whisper. “(…touch… touch myself?!)”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Alright, if I gotta solo this one… I gotta solo this one.” (Gently put, I had extensive experience in the subject. Bluntly put, I averaged about 3 hours and 30 orgasms per night to help me fall asleep.) I realized there may yet be a way to persuade her to touch me. “So… how exactly do I… do… (‘it’)?” I asked in feigned ignorance.

“You… did take sex ed, didn’t you?”

“They never talked about masturbation.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not comfortable with going any further with someone who didn’t receive a well-rounded education in sex.”

“I know how sex works! But only straight sex. I know all the things, I know how to put a condom on a penis, I know about STIs, I’m not completely uneducated! I just don’t know about masturbation because—because I wasn’t paying attention during that part because I thought it didn’t apply to me.”

One of her eyebrows cocked up. “And why wouldn’t it apply to you?”

“Because… I wasn’t interested in masturbating. Um. I wanted to save myself for marriage.”

“Yet you aren’t saving yourself for marriage anymore.”

“Yeah, uh, no, um… but… when Peter died, I knew there was no way I’d ever get married. So I decided not to save myself anymore. But I didn’t—don’t know how to masturbate, so I’ve never tried.”

“Never tried…”

I nodded.

She stared me in the eye, stared through me like I was made of glass. For a moment I thought she could read my mind. Then she shrugged and smiled. “Alright. I’ll teach you how to masturbate, because despite knowing for decades that you had a clitoris, you somehow never managed to figure out how to use it.”

“Thanks. What do I need to get started?”

“You need either your hands, a dildo, or a vibrator.”

“The things lesbians use because they don’t have penises?”

I narrowly picked up on the mild annoyance she took care to hide behind a tutor’s encouraging smile, though it was hard to tell why my question bothered her. “Yes. Very good guess for someone who has no idea how masturbation works. Lesbians also use their mouths.”

“Okay. Out of those, all I have are hands and a mouth.”

“And while I would love to see you use your mouth…” she began; I suppressed a perverted smirk as I thought to myself, ((Oh, who among us doesn’t find the concept of autocunnilingus)) extremely hot? She continued, “…I’m not holding my breath that you’re one of the lucky few who are that flexible (assuming they exist), so hands it is. First, you want short nails—yours are already chewed smooth, so that step is taken care of. Second, you should wash your hands before you touch anything.”

I usually skipped the second step out of laziness, but figured following her advice would make her happy, so I washed in my bathroom then pretend-bashfully strolled up to her in nothing but my socks and panties.

“Now you’re gonna wanna get comfy.”

“Okay. My bed is the most comfortable spot in my apartment.” To myself I added, ((And also the closest to being worthy of the adjective ‘romantic’.))

“Let’s go.”

I led her by the hand past my kitchenette to the area I called my ‘bedroom’… my apartment being a studio, it wasn’t so much a room as it was an area partially separated by my closet to give me a shred of privacy while I was jerking myself to sleep. I reclined on my flank so that she would have a good view of the show, and just close enough to the edge that she would be right next to me when she joined me. “Won’t you lie down? So that you can use your fingers… to point where I should put mine?” She shrugged, kicked off her crocs and took up that narrow space, her body inches from mine. “What now, teacher? Will you guide your student?” To myself I hoped, ((Fingers crossed you’re into teacher-student fantasies…))

Sure enough, her eyebrow raised, piqued. “‘Teacher and student’, right… I’m assuming you don’t mind me seeing your pussy.”

“You need to see my… (p-pussy?) I… guess it can’t be avoided.” With less hesitation than would have been ideal, I yanked off my panties and handed them to her. “Can you toss those in the hamper?”

She sighed as she tossed them in the basket.

“Thank you. I’m ready for the next step.”

“You can figure out what to do from here.”

“No! I can’t!”

“It isn’t hard. Try experimenting.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Just do what comes naturally.”

“This is all very unnatural.”

“Then… maybe masturbation isn’t right for you. Maybe sex isn’t right for you. Maybe we’ll never be fuckbuddies. Oh, well…”

“No! I just need to give it a try! Teach me!”

She sighed. “Alright. I’ll ‘teach’ you. Start by inserting your finger.”

“(All… right…)” I had never bothered to experiment internally because I had read somewhere that clitoral stimulation was the only thing capable of bringing a woman to orgasm; nevertheless, I had to go with the flow. I considered asking her to take my hand and guide it… but decided that might be a little too bold. “Alright.” I placed my forefinger at the entrance of the place where only tampons had ever ventured before, then slowly slipped it into what turned out to be a very slick hole. “(Oh!)” The sensation was surprisingly pleasant, with a sudden and powerful rush as I crossed the threshold, as electrically stimulating as having my nipples abused. “(I like that.)” I repeated the motion while she watched, intrigued. “(Mm…)” I even uttered for her enjoyment the sounds people make in porn—it was my hope that she’d get off on my noises and maybe give into her horniness. “(Ah… Oh… Yes…)”

“Wow, um… So, you’re probably not gonna cum from just that, most women have to play with their clits. Pull out your finger.” I mentally cursed, ((Well, shit.))

I removed it reluctantly, and a string of a substance resembling raw egg white stretched from my vagina to my finger, the stuff that would frequently overflow and soak my panties throughout the week following a bleed. “Can you grab me a tissue? I need to wipe off my finger.”

“Why? It’s lubricant, you need that—unless you have a bottle of lube lying around.” I shook my head in spite of the pint of Maude Shine I kept hidden inside my nightstand next to my Magic Wand. (It was just about empty, so I wasn’t being entirely dishonest.)

“I didn’t know this stuff was lubricant.”

“Okay… Andrea? You can drop the innocent ‘I don’t know how to masturbate’ act. I checked your drawer, you have a Magic Wand, as well as a bottle of Maude Shine, which I know you use because it’s empty.”

I grunted exasperatedly. “Okay, fine, I lied, but I really haven’t ever used this… stuff… on my clit. I’ve never stuck my fingers inside my vagina because I was perfectly happy just touching my clit.”

“So… you weren’t acting when you hesitantly inserted your finger and started making those noises?”

I nodded.

“Whew… Alrighty then. Get the other fingers on that hand wet.” One-by-one I moistened the fingers on my right hand, navigating each as far as it would go up the rainy season Nile between my legs and savoring the sensation of being spread each time. As I pulled out my pinky finger, I was overcome by curiosity—and an idea for how to turn her on.

I placed my pinky finger in my mouth and sucked it off.

The flavor was pleasant, albeit hard to describe beyond the notes of vinegar and olive, and there was something about consuming my own juices that appealed to my pervy brain, so much so that I found myself moaning as I slowly withdrew my moistened finger from my mouth.

Judith muttered, “(Christ.)”

“What’s wrong?” I think I managed to hide my satisfaction that my performance had the intended effect.

“Nothing. Well… The sound you just made… The look on your face when you did that… Are you sure you’ve never put your fingers in your pussy?”

I had seen many other women suck on pussy juice-slick fingers on camera, but I was being perfectly, sincerely honest when I replied, “Only tampons and speculums have gone in there before now.”

She shrugged. “If you say so. Try touching your clitoris.”

I hovered my finger over my clit, stopping an inch short. “(I’m… kind of afraid to do this, Judith,)” I pretend-whimpered, quite eager to ‘do this’.

She sighed. “You’ve already confessed to playing with your clitoris.”

“Can we just…. please pretend that I’ve never done this before, that I’m innocent and you’re gently corrupting me? If you won’t actually fuck me the way a fuckbuddy is supposed to, will you at least let me have my fantasy of being taught how my body works by an older, wiser woman?”

She blinked. “Um. If that’s… fun for you, I suppose… I don’t see why not. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something like this. Let’s pretend.”

“Alright. Thank you. Where was I?”

“You’re scared to touch your clitoris.”

“Right, right. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I touch it!”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Maybe if you… took my hand… and guided it?”

“You don’t need my help. You can do it.”

((It was worth a shot,)) I thought with a sigh before replying, “Alright. Here goes.” I spread my lips with my left hand and touched my clitoris with my right, exactly as I had 10 to 30 times every day since puberty. I felt a familiar, gentle spark shoot up my stomach. I pulled my hand back and gasped in feigned surprise. “Wow!”

“Try rubbing it.”

“Okay.” I touched it again, causing a shower of sparks to carve its way outward from my crotch and throughout my pelvis, then made a little circle with it—the sparks grew hotter and attacked me more fiercely. “(Holy—fuck,)” I gasped between machine gun breaths as I found myself overwhelmed by the pleasure, my habitual compulsion mindlessly accelerating my motions, jiggling my clit with my whole wrist, arm, and shoulder until every nerve in my body gently toasted beside the flames of excitement. I moaned continuously—until my mouth was smothered by someone else’s. I kissed Judith back as I thrust my crotch into my hand, eager, so incredibly eager to release that carnal energy that ever called to me from within—and even more eager to get her to do it for me. That energy grew and grew with each stroke, I felt my desire inflate, I grabbed Judith’s tit with my left hand and squeezed; I dragged my thumb across her hard nipple, causing her to shudder and moan into my mouth.

Then, unable to bear the thought of my first orgasm with a sex partner being at my own hand, I abandoned my clitoris, wrapped my fingers around her wrist, removed her hand from my cheek, guided it towards my crotch, and released it as I meekly whispered, “(Please.)”

So her fingers invaded my country and I surrendered to her every maneuver as she politely conquered me. She performed magnificently, vigorously ruling over my clit with a firm hand, and I let her know I was hers with my moaning and whining until time bled over into space, until I felt—