I'm a twenty-two year-old, Chinese-American female. I'm 5'2" and quite slim, but I have wide hips and a big butt. My breasts are really small (A-cup bras are usually too big for me), and I'm somewhat ashamed of them. But I do have sensual almond-shaped eyes and perfectly clear, soft skin. My straight-black hair falls down to my shoulders, but I usually wear it tied up in a clip. I just graduated from college. Grad school starts in another month, so for now I'm alone and bored in a strange new city. To help pass the time, I decided to reflect on the sexual transformation that occurred within me during my undergraduate years. Reliving my former exploits should save me from going out of my mind until the rest of the students start showing up and the fun can begin again. And maybe others can learn from my experience, or at least take some enjoyment from my stories.
First off, a confession: I am completely addicted to sucking cock. Simply stated, I love giving blowjobs. I'm at my happiest when I have a stiff, spongy dick in my mouth and a warm scrotum in one hand while I stroke his shaft with the other, as he runs his fingers through my hair or forces my face down into his pubic hair. That combination of submission and domination, simultaneously serving him and controlling his pleasure, bowing my head down in worship before the god I am devouring, that's my natural high, that's what I look forward to at the end of a rough day or a long week.
It wasn't always this way. I was raised in a typical, affluent, suburban, Asian-American household. My parents never taught me anything about sex, and nothing sexual was ever discussed in our home. My friends were all over-ambitious Asians like myself, driven by a sense of obligation to our education-obsessed parents. We studied together, practiced music together, and performed in school plays together. But we never dated, partied, or "fooled around" like all our white classmates were doing. Looking back, it was probably for the best, as all that studying and hard work paid off with a full scholarship to a top university. That's where my adventures began.
Most of the freshmen students moved in on a hot, humid morning in August. I don't remember much about that first day, but before I knew it, our parents were gone and it was just me and my roommate, a buxom blonde from the Midwest, sitting alone together in the dour, concrete prison that would serve as our home for the next ten months.
Her name was Samantha. I could tell right from the beginning that she didn't like me. She wanted to party, and she suspected I'd be a constant downer, based on all the typical Asian stereotypes. Her disdain for me was evident on her face. She already had friends whom she had met during orientation stopping by, other suburban white kids like herself. The girls were bitchy, spoke in whiny, nasal voices, and obviously wanted nothing to do with me. The guys were mostly clean-cut and plain-looking, except for one athletic guy with black hair, broad shoulders, and a wild look in his eyes. "He's so hot!" Samantha confided to me after he left. She wanted him to be her boyfriend, and he knew it.
Despite all this, I couldn't bear to go out and "do what I was supposed to do": seek out other Asians and form a little ethnic clique. I was tired of that. No, I was going to be independent from now on, my own person, no longer a stereotype.
The result of my determination was weeks and weeks of intense loneliness. Samantha was always having her friends over, so I tried to stay out of the room as much as possible. When I wasn't in class, I was by myself in the library, throwing myself into my studies. "It's important that you start off strong," I kept telling myself, "build up a solid GPA so you can get into grad school." When things aren't going well in real life, school is a convenient way to distract yourself from your misery. But the swelling pit of loneliness in my stomach just wouldn't go away, no matter how hard I tried.
Eventually, I started living vicariously through Samantha. I would listen in on her phone conversations, pretending to be studying. Things seemed to be progressing rather well with that guy from orientation, Tom. They were going out together several nights a week, and Samantha excitedly told her friends the she thought he liked her. Then, one night as I was walking back to our room from the library, I saw Samantha and Tom kissing in front of the door. Embarrassed, I turned back toward the elevator until I heard his footsteps walking away. "Hi," I said shyly, as he strutted by. A cool "hey" was his only reply.
By now I had grown somewhat jealous of Samantha. She already had a hot boyfriend, and I was alone and desolate, without friends even, let alone romance. She was also really pretty, and seeing her every day made me self-conscious about my own shortcomings. I dreaded having to change my clothes in front of her, and made it a point to do so only when she wasn't around. She, however, seemed to enjoy getting naked in front of me, proudly showing off her hot body. She worked hard to maintain it, exercising intensely on a daily basis. I saw Samantha nude just about every morning when she got dressed, and then again every night when she came out of the shower after the gym.
