*insert praise here*

You approach them, all hot and bothered and red in the face, shifting uncomfortably with a noticeable, seemingly subconscious press of your thighs against each other. They see the way your hips press forward against nothing, grinding against the open air, and they can tell almost immediately what the problem is: you're aroused. And you don't know how to deal with it.

They'd lay you down slowly, probably making a crude comment about the loss of your innocence as they take your much smaller hand in their own, and guide it between your legs. They'd show you exactly what to do, twisting and stroking or cupping and circling, showing you exactly how to build yourself up to your peak.

You'd get a little nervous once you feel the heat coiling in your tummy, the rushing urgency that begins building in your parts, but they'd continue to guide you. Soft praises and reassurances would tumble out from their lips as they watched you intently; they're just barely holding themselves back from taking you right then and there, trying their very best to put your education above their desire first and foremost. They need to teach you what to do for when they're not around, after all.

You'd finally tumble over the edge, and with a shout of their name you'd come, body shaking with the aftermath of your orgasm, soft whimpers of exhaustion and pleasure escaping you as they guide your hand into working yourself through your orgasm. Once you finally collapse, you let out a deep, heavy sigh, allowing your muscles to untense and the mattress beneath you to damn-near swallow you.