Before the First Time

It happened so suddenly.

I vowed it never would. And then there was you. But you’d been there the whole time. A vague memory of someone I’d been acquainted with my entire life but never truly known.

When I took that seat across from you, laying eyes on you for the first time in well over a dozen years, I was surprised at the familiarity I felt. The tattoo on your arm shone, bright with new ink, and we talked about the man who had inspired us both. How we missed him deeply and felt lost in his absence. You fingered the tattoo as you spoke, the image a reminder of his legacy.

At the end of the night, I lay alone. I dreamt of you. Wondered if you’d ever think of me as anything beyond the young child who was always so far behind. In our childhood, we were eons apart, but as adults, we had landed in exactly the same spot.

Several days and pages of texts later, I drove home in the ice and snow, exhausted and weary. The aftermath of the emotional catastrophe I’d been surviving still sapped my body of strength. I looked forward to the end of the day when I could crawl in bed and just be. But today my luck had expired.

I sat hunched over in the wretched, freezing cold, the worn material of my vehicle providing my only insulation. The power was out all over the city. Not only was there no heat or light in the high rise apartment building, but the electronic access had effectively turned the place into a prison, letting no one in or out.

You texted me just then and I’d like to remember what you said, but I couldn’t see through the tears. I sent a short reply that my power was out. You asked if I was okay. The words unlocked a fresh new sea of tears and I though I shouldn’t have, I confessed that I had no heat, no home, and no place to go. You told me to come over and met me outside.

The tears had run dry then, but my face still wore the telltale red puffiness. I tried to smile as you led me up to your door. Behind it, you nervously fumbled around, handing me a blanket and searching for a movie. I sat on the bed, the only furniture in the cluttered room. I would never understand your dissociation with the rest of your home, but I loved being so close to you.

The movie began, a perpetual display of noise, color and lights in front of me. I stared in the direction of the tv, lost in thought and nervous around you. Then you spoke. You invited me to lay next to you and I did, hesitating a split second at first. You wrapped me in your large, strong arms, and suddenly everything was ok. I lay my head on your broad chest and melted into you. We had never even kissed, but the comfort I felt caused any doubts to evaporate. You stroked my hair, comforting me and speaking softly. We talked about nothing, shared memories, and you let me ramble on, a mess of emotions and confusion. You made me smile with something funny and bent to kiss me.

My world changed the minute your lips brushed mine. It started as a sweet, friendly gesture, but immediately became something we couldn’t control. We rode the wave of that kiss, hands traveling slowly, gingerly. You caressed me and held me close, treating me like a fragile little thing. Your touch was gentle but the passion was intense.

The thin slip of fabric under my denim blazer barely covered my breasts. The hem flowed, skimming my narrow waist and your fingers slipped beneath it. The blazer was fastened tight, unforgiving over the layer underneath and I unbuttoned it slowly, letting your hand travel up and cup my breasts. Your thumb circled my erect nipple and you pinched it between your fingers. It was the first time I’d ever felt someone do that and I gasped, surprised that I had nearly climaxed beneath you as you applied just the right amount of pressure.

Your lips explored my body, kissing my neck, the stubble on your cheeks tickling my soft skin. You moved to my throat, my shoulders, my cleavage. You pulled me on top of you, still with my clothes firmly in place. Except the jacket, which splayed open, exposing my body, vulnerable beneath the thin camisole. Your hands moved underneath again, touching my back, sending shivers down my spine. I kissed you then, my body moving against you of its own accord. You returned the gesture, drinking in my pleasure, moving your mouth down my body. I felt the brush of your lips and your warm breath through my shirt, creating sensations I didn’t know existed. You carried on that way, teasing my body, your thumbs massaging my pussy through the material of my pants. My moisture was now tangible through the fabric and you moved your mouth down, pressing your lips right over my sweet cunt, your breath sending electricity to every cell of my body. I moaned softly, moving against you. Your fingers probed me and you told me you ached for me. You watched me, helplessly aroused. I felt the strong erection poking through your pants, wondered how it’d feel, how would you taste?

I was completely lost in the sensation and hoped it would never end. But it had to. I knew if I stayed with you, I would never make it out of your grasp with my heart in tact. I lay next to you, savoring the feeling of your arms around me and noticed that hours had passed. Your reluctance to let me go was obvious, but you walked me out anyway. Our embrace lingered a little too long, and when I left, I missed you a little too much. It was the closest I’d ever come to love.


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