Ricky was my project. I had set out to corrupt him, through and through. Or to put it more nicely: I seriously wanted to educate him. He wasn’t a virgin, but from what he’d told me, and what he’d demonstrated in bed, his sexual guidance had taken a lot of wrong turns. I liked Ricky. He was my boyfriend, and I wanted him to become a well-rounded sexual being.

Besides, it was as fun as hell showing him what was what. It almost made sex new for me again.

We had met socially about two months earlier. After circling each other for a little while, I had asked him out. He later said he’d been on the verge of asking me, but I sensed in him an innate shyness, like he didn’t believe in himself enough to actually approach me.

That skittish nature was endearing to me, and it turned out Ricky appealed to me more than the usual hyperassertive guys who presumed from minute one that I desperately wanted to fuck them. Ricky was smart, well-read and witty, all while being cautious and pretty self-effacing. Our first date was charming. So was our second. By the third, I was more than expecting we would end up in bed together. When my first hints weren’t picked up, I decisively took him back to my place and into my bedroom and told him we should screw.

Did he say no? Of course not. Ricky was shy, not a mannequin. We made out, then we got naked on my bed and proceeded to fool around. He was a decent lay, certainly sensitive to my needs. A fine time was had by all.

But I perceived even that first time that we could do better. There was a true connection between us. Emotionally, we were very compatible. But I wanted us to join in every sense. The sex we’d had was, well, kind of… vanilla. I thought of all the wonderful variations available, then I wondered if maybe there were certain sex acts he just hadn’t done.

After two more bed sessions like the first, where I tried unsuccessfully to initiate a few additional carnal activities, I confronted him gently. I asked if he’d ever gotten sucked off before.

“I have,” he said, but without the expected warmth such a memory should generate for a man. When he finally told me the details, I understood.

Ricky had been unlucky with his previous sex partners. The woman who’d blown him had only sucked the first third of his cock, being paranoid about gagging. She also forbade him from coming in her mouth, which made him as tense as hell. He was afraid he might accidentally shoot off and annoy her.

There were more awful episodes like that: a woman who thought doing it doggy-style was demeaning, the one who had to have the lights out and blackout curtains drawn so he couldn’t see her naked, and the gal who’d freaked out when he’d pinched her nipples a little too enthusiastically and accused him of being “an S&M freak.”

I felt bad for him. He deserved better. But it wasn’t too late, and I became determined to make up for the rough luck he’d had.

To start him on the road to recovery, I first treated Ricky to what I like to think was a professional blowjob. I swirled my tongue around his cockhead, then wrapped my lips around him and sucked him straight down to his balls. He groaned and thrashed about. I worshiped his cock with my mouth and felt a giddy sense of triumph when he shot down my throat. I made sure he saw me swallow every drop of his cream.

Another time, I had him stand in front of me, while I sat on the edge of the bed. I encouraged him to fuck my face, which he did after a few hesitant motions. At the end, I had him shoot his jizz all over my tits. The next time we did it, I had him cream on my face and shower my lips and tongue with his load.

I guided him through doggy-style until I was barking with orgasmic joy. We did it in the blazing sunlight, standing up, sitting down, from every angle imaginable. He ate my pussy like a starving man — another act he’d inexplicably been denied by his apparently puritan ex-lovers.

It was a fantastic, sexually incendiary few weeks. Ricky was happier than I’d ever seen him. He exuded a new confidence, though he thankfully hadn’t taken up arrogance as well. He was still the same sweet guy, but now with a very decent sexual resume.

One night we both teetered on the brink of exhaustion, having shared a 69 and a shattering mutual climax. As we nestled together, I felt warm and content alongside him. His lips softly brushed my temple as he gave me a gentle kiss.

“This has been amazing,” he murmured.

“Yeah.” My fingers absentmindedly stroked his abs.

“I guess there’s only one thing left for us to do together,” he said. When I made a vague inquiring sound, he replied, “Anal.”

A moment later he was asleep, but I stayed awake deep into the night.

Anal. The one sex act I hadn’t done.

It seemed improbable, and it was, given my carefree and colorful past. But somehow I’d never crossed paths with butt sex. Now, Ricky was apparently expecting it. I didn’t have any aversion to the idea, other than a natural hesitancy about something unfamiliar.

The day before our next hookup, I experimented on myself with my most trusted dildo. I lubed up my nether hole and gently probed it with the toy’s rounded plastic crown. The sensation was strange. My ass ring stayed tight, and I could barely penetrate myself. I did feel some stray tendrils of pleasure, but my general frustration negated most of it.

That night we were back in the comfortable confines of my bedroom, the scene of so many erotic marvels between me and my new boyfriend. I wanted the night to be as special as all the others. There was a simple solution to this dilemma, of course: I wouldn’t tell Ricky. I’d simply let him fuck my ass and hope my inexperience didn’t betray me.

He was squirming with anticipation and had a gleam in his eyes. I kissed him affectionately, knowing that whatever happened I would still have warm feelings for him. That smooch led to more kissing, then to us grinding our bodies together. We soon flung off our clothes, and everything was wonderfully familiar and in sync.

Ricky fingered me to a quick orgasm, just to make sure I was properly warmed up. I jerked his cock, thrilling to the throbbing feel of his meat trapped in my fist. We both sensed when it was time for the night’s main event.

I said, “There’s lube in the drawer.”

My mouth was dry, but I was careful to hide my nervousness.

He grinned, that newfound confidence of his shining through as he said, “We’ll see if we need it.”

I didn’t understand what he was talking about. I would definitely want my back channel oiled before I’d let him slide his cock into it. He gently swatted my flank and said, “Over onto your hands and knees.”

I assumed the position, familiar enough from all the times he — and numerous past lovers — had fucked me from behind. But as I braced myself there, arms stiff and knees trembling a little, my anxiety grew. If I didn’t love the act, I hoped I could passably fake enjoyment because I didn’t want to add to Ricky’s negative sexual experiences. Anyway, I’d wanted true connectivity with him, and this would be an intimate demonstration of that.

He moved in behind me, and I swear my asshole quivered. His fingers spread my cheeks. I bit my lip and waited.

I felt what it took me a second to realize was the warmth of his breath, and after that — to my utter shock — came the wet swiping of his tongue! At first, I thought I was mistaken, until I cranked my head around to look over my shoulder. Sure enough, Ricky’s face was planted between the halves of my ass where he was busily swirling his tongue over my rear hole. Incredible.

I’d never been ass-fucked before, and I absolutely had never gotten rimmed. The sensation was electric. Impulses of raw pleasure raced through me from the contact. There was also a sweet vulnerability to it, as if I were opening myself to him completely.

He delved deeper, dipping his tongue into me, past the cinch of my ring, which I felt relaxing under his oral attention. My pussy dripped, even without a further touch from Ricky.

He ate my ass with the same enthusiasm he’d demonstrated while feasting on my pussy. I rocked back against him as he drilled me with his tongue. My whole channel felt wondrously ablaze, and I moaned and sighed.

When he finally withdrew his face, I was ready for more.

“You want lube?” he asked.

I could feel how spit-slick I was, so I said, “I want your cock!”

He shifted. The fronts of his thighs brushed the backs of mine. I waited, splayed and eager. When his cockhead pushed against my hole, I gasped. But there was no fear, no hesitation.

He advanced slowly, taking his time, and I felt his knob gradually slide in. My ring opened for him and swallowed him up. His hands settled onto the globes of my ass. He thrust gently, pushing forward incrementally. His cock was big, and it felt huge in my ass. But I realized it wasn’t something I couldn’t handle.

I rocked back again, impaling myself on his impressive rod. After a sweet dazed interval, his balls were flush against my slit. I had all of him, his whole glorious length was entirely up my ass!

“Fuck me,” I demanded.

And he was off. His strokes were even, unhurried. I had the sharp sense he was monitoring my reactions, making sure I felt no discomfort. To reassure him, I kept up a stream of groans. Ecstasy grew in me. My pussy continued to flow, and my nipples were erect. I swayed on my knees, moving in concert with him.

When he picked up speed, I encouraged him by calling out obscenities. That turned both of us on all the more. Soon he was slamming into my ass as I fingered my clit. I was taking it all, wanting everything. Wanting his jizz.

He cried out, just as a furious climax hit me, and his hot juice filled my hole. We shared a moment of white-hot bliss, and he never knew that was my first time.