Author's Note: I stumbled across the manuscript of this story that I had written decades ago. It is about a lovely young Japanese-American woman and our romance that unfortunately was not consummated until it was much too late. I have dusted it off and refreshed it, and I hope you enjoy the retelling of the tale.
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I'd like to share with you my unforgettable bachelor's party given by Amy, my "best friend." I can still recall seeing this pretty Asian coed sitting in the corner of my college Psychology 101 class. About five-feet-two and a hundred pounds, she was slim in figure with small breasts, a narrow waist, and nice slender legs. Tastefully applied mascara lined and highlighted her almond-shaped eyes and gave her an alluring appeal. Combined with her long jet-black hair and an inscrutable smile on her delicate lips, she had a subtle aura of beauty, grace, and mystique unique to Oriental women.
We met in the first semester of our freshman year in college. Amy drew me to her like a moth to a flame and judging by her openness, her attraction to me was equally compelling. When our professor asked us to select a research partner, we just looked at each other and silently agreed to work on a class project. Little did we know just how long our "pairing" would last.
This might have been the start of a fantastic romance, but unfortunately, we were involved with other people at the time. Yet, we couldn't deny our mutual attraction and somehow carved out some exclusive time and privacy despite our so-called commitment to our significant others. Gradually we went from being partners to acquaintances and finally steadfast friends.
How many times I would say, "Hey, if you're not doing anything, how about hanging out?" Amy, in return, would call me and say, "Michael, are you free? I need to talk to you about what's happening between me and my shitty boyfriend." As the years that passed and our many lovers came and went, we became the closest of friends and openly shared our innermost, thoughts, feelings, and secrets.
It was a matter of time before we finally gave into our mutual love and eventually the secrets of each other's body. It's funny how that moment came in the tight confines of my Volkswagen Beetle where a hesitant first kiss quickly became passionate and gentle touches became exciting strokes, gropes, and squeezes. Caught up in unexpected passion, our clothes were hastily unbuttoned and unzipped just enough for frantic sexual pleasure.
"Michael! We shouldn't...ooh!" gasped Amy as her lips broke from mine after her tongue had wreaked havoc in my mouth. "We're supposed to be best friends...oooh, that's not fair nibbling on my earlobe. Michael, please, we shouldn't..."
A yelp of surprise jumped out of Amy's mouth as my hand quickly travel up the valley of her inner thighs under her short skirt to suddenly squeeze her lace-covered pussy. "That's not what your sweet little twat is telling me. Hmmm, hmmm, somebody must be really turned on because her panties are sopping-wet."
Amy grabbed my intruding hand but with my free hand, I grasped her wrist and shoved her slender hand to my noticeably tented shorts. "And what will you give me if I don't pull aside your panties' crotch and finger you?"
Her delicate fingers timidly felt the bulging outline of my manhood before they began to move up and down in bolder and bolder caresses. "Oooh, you're such a meanie, Michael. Alright! If you release your hold on me and take your hand out of my skirt, I will take care of this large thing is threatening to burst your zipper." With that said, we became best friends with definite benefits -- something that we both wanted and could no longer deny after our first tryst in my car.
Like a master musician, Amy proved adept at playing my fleshy elongated flute. Her slender fingers and open mouth worked with a natural skill to elicit moans of utter ecstasy from my throat. "Hmm, hmm, you're so sweet-tasting. So delicious," Amy mumbled between licks and suck as she brought me to the proverbial point of no return. "I want you to cum, Michael. I want to suck you off like the Jap slut that I really am. Shoot, Michael! Fill my mouth, throat, and belly with your yummy sperm. I want you so bad. Shoot!" It wasn't long but my hips were bucking and thrusting my cock upwards as I spew what seemed like gallons of molten semen down Amy's talented gulping throat.
In turn, I loved how Amy whimpered as I ravaged her rather unique body. Although a grown woman in her late-twenties, Amy slender form was...well...to put it simply, immature. It was as if her puberty had been interrupted, leaving her with an intriguing body that was more pubescent than womanly. Her creamy tits were small mounds that barely rose from her chest, and each was topped off with a puffy pink areola from which a nipple that was smaller than mine lazily rose. However, while Amy's tits were little, they were super-sensitive as if all the nerves of a normal woman's breasts were concentrated in her small strawberry tips.
My mouth easily inhaled her gentle breast mounds and my rough tongue lashed and swirl around her delicate rosebuds until her tiny nipples popped in painful rigidity. When my lips clamp around a swollen areola, Amy whined pitifully as I slowly suck and tugged it from her heaving chest. God, her childish whimpering was music to my ears and guaranteed to give me one hell of a raging hard-on.
Although Amy managed to stop me from undressing her from the waist down, she struggled to prevent me from sliding my hand into her unzipped pants or slipping my fingers up her dress or the legs of her shorts. My stroking fingertips told me that Amy's cunt lips were surprisingly spongy and downy-smooth. Her stiff little clitoris jutted from the top of her slit proved to be as sensitive, if not more, than her teeny nipples. Once stroked, Amy squirmed frantically, panting and moaning in rapidly escalating excitement, clamping her thighs together to trap my hand. My wiggling fingers dipped into her tight slit were instantly drenched with her slippery pussy juices. It took very little from there to get Amy ivory-toned pubescent body to writhe uncontrollably in a gut-wrenching orgasm.
Yet, despite these extremely passionate sessions, we never went all the way. "Come on, Amy, you know I love you and I know you love me too. We both want to be fucking the hell of each other!" blurted out of my mouth in sheer exasperation when Amy somehow had once again thwarted my effort to mount and penetrate her. "So, what the hell is the problem?"
Cringing at my harsh frustration, Amy threw her arms around my neck and clung fiercely to me. "Please don't be mad, Michael," she whispered desperately into my ear. "Ooh, you know that I want to...but...it's just that I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing the person who is closest and dearest to my heart and whom I love the most. It's just that... when I have sex with a guy... I somehow end up losing him regardless of what I do to please him. I know you'll tell me that I'm being foolish and that you'll always be here for me no matter what. But even though I really want to... I just can't. I don't want to risk our precious relationship... and lose you.
"Please, Michael, don't be mad at me. Come on. Let me suck you off. I really love giving you a blow job and having you cum in my mouth. You know that you're the only one with whom I'm such a cock-sucking whore. Please, Michael. I really do love swallowing your dick and love all the hot gooey spunk you can shoot down my gulping throat. Can slutty Amy giving horny Mikey a blow job... please... pretty please?"
Despite immensely enjoying Amy's oral pleasures anytime and anywhere she or I wanted, her ardent resistance and my inability to consummate our romance in all ways gnawed at me. So, after several years of being in an open "best-friends-with-quasi-benefits" relationship with Amy, I unexpectedly met and started dating a rather special woman who willingly and quickly bedded me. After a surprising whirlwind summer romance, I ended up proposing and she accepted, not knowing of my relationship with or for that matter the existence of Amy.
When I told Amy soon after she was utterly shell-shocked for the thing that she had tried so hard to avoid was happening. I tried to reassure her that this didn't mean an end to our friendship and love affair but Amy shook her head in disbelief and said, "No, Michael, I've lost you. What I thought would never happen... well... has happened. I can see now that I was a fool in trying to keep our affair on just a friendship basis by not going all the way. I should have taken the chance... but I didn't. That's something that I will always regret."
When I tried to argue that we could still be friends and carry on as before, Amy unequivocally stated, "No we can't! Once you're married, I won't touch you with the proverbial ten-foot pole because what we had will be over. You'll belong to another woman and not to me."
Then after a long pause as she contemplated what to say next, Amy continued, "However, before you are married, I wanted one last night with you with the understanding that after such night we were through." Nothing I could say could dissuade Amy and so we agreed on a night when my fiancée would be out of town.
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It was a balmy summer afternoon when I checked into the most exclusive hotel in the city and called Amy to give her our room number. She said she'd be right over but it wasn't the sun had set before she strolled through the door. With her makeup carefully applied and long hair loose, Amy was stunning in a thin but elegant dress and high heels. Before I could say anything, she dropped her overnight bag and fell to her knees before me.
