Oral Sex?

Oral sex. I don't know much about how other people learn about this topic; in my case, I was homeschooled, sheltered, and coddled to an unhealthy extent. However, I was a very imaginative child, and loved to write stories. Having a diary felt like the best thing in the world. In fact, I grew a kind of notebook addiction and kept buying notebooks for years, never settling on a particular one.
When I was about nine years old, immediately before that damn puberty hit, my mother did a course with me called 'Secret Keeper Girl by Dannah Gresh' all about 'true beauty and modesty. I guess none of this ever hit home for me, for obvious reasons. I really demonstrated to my parents my lack of sexual indiscretion when at ten years old they found my diary with pages full of detailed fictional letters between girls talking about oral sex. I had come up with these ideas on my own, but my parents felt the need to have a sitdown discussion with me about this. Before they even read to me the 'perverted sexual material', they read a diary entry about a crush I had on a fifteen year old Greek boy down the street, making me feel as if that was something to be ashamed of. Henceforth I never spoke to my parents about my crushes again.
My parents of course would not dare to believe that I would think up something so reprehensible in nature, no matter how much I insisted that nothing had influenced me into creating these entries. As a child, I felt as though I had to give them an answer that they could feel satisfied with, therefore I turned on one of my friends, not really knowing what I was doing at the time. I can honestly tell you that we never spoke again.
However, I am still unsure as to how I came to my sexual conclusions. Perhaps it's because until puberty, I saw my parents naked, showered with them, and spent a good portion of my childhood nude in swimming pools, backyards, my home, and with my brother.
Perhaps it's because I was born sexually focused, always attempting to engage in sex play with girls and my brother, in a game he and I called 'Eskimo Eskimo'.
Perhaps none of my thoughts or actions were terribly uncommon for a child, particularly one who was repressed and stifled. So repressed, in fact, that life was only beginning to explode so loudly, and so violently that if you were close, you were undoubtedly going to get singed.