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This is the story of my [30M] first “summer flame,” in high college. Over the years and several girlfriends / flings, this one is still seared into my memory and I hope she’s doing well wherever she is now.

She was the ex-girlfriend of my ‘best friend,’ but before I get eviscerated for breaking bro code, he fell out with everyone about a month prior and she essentially took his place in the friend group. It was the summer after graduation, and our last chance to spend time with her before she left for university abroad.

By this point I’d only had a few experiences with white girls but knew I had a strong preference for Asians, but hadn’t found the opportunity. (Asians make up roughly half the community and I was the one token white guy in the group.)

One night we were all a bit tipsy (except her, she didn’t like alcohol) and decided to go outside, split up into teams, and have the guys race a little while carrying the girls on their backs. I paired with her and she was a bit shy, asking if I was comfortable carrying her weight. …This little thing, 7″ shorter than me, was concerned she might be too heavy.

I laughed and told her I’ve carried backpacks heavier than her. I ‘warmed up’ for the race with her on my back, walking around, talking with her normally so she could see it took barely any effort. I knew she wasn’t a touchy-feely person so I said whatever I could think of to make her comfortable and checked to make sure she was physically secure. Winning the race was fun and I discovered I liked the sound of her laughing and letting loose a little because she was usually quite contained.

That night awoke a heightened awareness of each other’s bodies, especially the size difference. Being next to her as she looked up at me, made me feel things I didn’t figure out. I noticed she started ‘hiding’ behind me when someone got too drunk / loud and I’d ask if she wanted to go for a walk somewhere else. She was intrigued by the callouses on my palms and would very timidly run her fingertips over them, saying she liked the roughness. I didn’t try anything because I didn’t want to scare her off.

Then one night we were alone at my place and she complained her legs were sore from a workout, and accepted my offer to give her a massage. She was laying on her stomach on my carpet, wearing these tiny booty shorts, and the barely audible sounds she was making was driving me crazy. The sexual tension in the air was suffocating.

I snapped. In a single breath I flipped her over, pulled off her shorts and panties, and dove in to make tongue-clit contact before she could say anything. I knew my former friend was her first but she once described her experience with him as ‘meh’ and admitted she wasn’t sure if she’d had an orgasm before. I wanted to blow her mind.

I quickly realized I had nothing to worry about; she was super sensitive and already flushed & squirming. I held her down more securely as her fingers found their grip on my skull. It was my first time hearing my name cried out in desperation like that, and my sanity was starting to crumble. She climaxed with her back arched, her legs trembling, and a half-formed scream dying out in her throat.

I didn’t stop but slowed down to let her catch her breath, and taking the opportunity to savor the view of how much of a sweating, mewling mess she was. I knew I liked controlling the rhythm in bed, but that night I discovered the intoxicating experience of having a girl who desperately WANTS to be at your mercy and control. I picked up the speed & pressure and made her cum again when I felt like it. She was almost crying. What a fucking drug.

Deciding that was enough of an appetizer, I raised myself up and she met me with a heated kiss, sharing the taste of her juices. I got myself ready for the main course but noticed legitimate fear in her eyes. “You’re way too big… I’m not made for that…”

I laid her back to the floor and kissed her again, gently this time, propping myself on my elbows to form a cage around her. Of course I didn’t want to hurt her. I asked if she still wanted to try, and she needs to tell me the moment she wants to stop and I will. She said yes, and said she trusted me.

I placed a pillow under her and continued kissing her, rubbing the tip on her clit until she got hot and slippery again. I entered her slowly, softly reminding her to relax and encouraging her, while trying my damn hardest to ignore my own pleasure so I could watch for any signs that she wanted to bail. But she didn’t. As she eased into it and the pain subsided, it felt like she was sucking me in deeper into her tightness.

The rest of it is mostly a blur, I remember outright hugging her with my arms crossed behind her back & holding the back of her head in one hand, and all I could hear was her whimpering & crying my name. That’s when I confirmed for myself that Asian girls really do make different sounds — I would’ve wondered she was in pain if it weren’t for her body language. Her physical sensitivity was overwhelming her.

At one point I shifted back onto my knees and grabbed her by the waist to continue fucking her. She tightened even more around my dick and managed to get a few words out while shifting eye contact: “your hands… they’re so rough…” That was the most she could say in the heat of the moment, to communicate what she liked. It was too embarrassing to explicitly say “yes that feels so good” or even curse. It was a very different communication style from the girls I had before but I found it endearing; no other girl after her was quite the same either.

She was actually communicating the same amount in bed but mostly through eye contact / expression and the sounds she made, instead of through words. She would look at me a certain way like she was trying to telepathically tell me something, and it didn’t take long to learn what each look meant.

I was speaking more during sex than she was, often out of an instinctive urge to comfort and encourage her (like on the night of that piggyback race). And turns out she really liked that, especially in doggy style when she couldn’t see me. Saying “that’s it, good girl” or “it’s okay, hold onto me” or even just a gentle “shhh, not too loud” while thrusting into her was like a cheat code that made her tighten even more. No other girl has created me feel the equally intense but contradicting urges to protect her and destroy her at the same time.

Our lives went in different directions after she left and we haven’t seen each other since. From time to time I wonder what it would’ve been like to date her properly. I think we could’ve grown to love each other. Or maybe there’d be incompatibilities outside the bedroom or other deal breakers and maybe it wouldn’t have worked out.

But at least this part of her, and the part of me that matched her, is a memory I’ll all the time treasure.

NSFW: yes

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