It Wasn’t Nothing Like That. First. Time.

Before you ever have sex, someone will definitely tell you that you’ll be in love with your first forever. You will think of them all the time and will have a soft spot for them. A soft spot that will last a lifetime. I don’t remember my first time clearly. It wasn’t that special. It was nothing like the Mills and Boon described. More than anything else, I recall lying still, wishing so bad that it would end. I was actually happy that he moved away and I would never see him again. Saved me the awkwardness.

Fast forward a few years… I met the most amazing guy and we hit it off. So amazing, I was crazy about him before sex with him ever crossed my mind. He simply excited me. Then we dated. I wish this was a great sex story. Really. That would make for far better entertainment, right? Our first kiss was on me; too full of excitement to realise I was making all the first moves. I would feel bad in a normal setup but being his girlfriend made it fine, right? A lot of women are only happy to be in a relationship because they get to have as much sex as they want without being called names. Obviously, you can imagine my surprise when my guy was never the one to bring up sex.

Maybe he got tired of my nagging. Maybe I cornered him into finally having sex with me. Maybe he really wanted to all along… but eventually, it happened. It wasn’t bad but it prompted me to give an assuring kiss at the end. The kiss that tells your guy it’s fine to not get it right the first time and that it would probably work out next time. The fewer words, the better. I had never had to give this kiss in any circumstance beside the action ending too early. His eyes had that look that said the next time would probably never come but I had my own plans. The next few months had me initiating sex and feeling like a borderline sex predator most times. Soon enough, his nerves wore off and I could have all the fun in the world, getting him to know me better. The fun was over as soon as it began. I love the idea of having all the power. Key word being ‘idea’. It should have stayed just that. I was brewing a monumental shit storm.

Eventually, he was just the way I taught him to be. He kissed like I kissed and touched the way he did when my hands guided over his. The kiss at the end, now that I look back, was the constant summary of how our sex life was going. It changed. It became one that was almost apologetic. I was sorry to have spent over a year with this amazing man, moulding him into something I simply didn’t want anymore. He returned my kiss with a huge smile. I knew he didn’t understand what my body was telling him… so I stayed with him another few months, hoping he would get it the next time. Or the time after the next time. Maybe a few more times? He never did.

The sense of sight says so much… followed closely by the sense of touch. After an entire year of knowing his body, I could read into his eyes and touch. I ran out of patience… when was he going to understand what I couldn’t get myself to say out loud? All these things were running through my mind, lying in a heap of sweat. I couldn’t give one more apologetic kiss. When I turned to him, I saw in his eyes what people spoke of when they mentioned loving your first sexual partner. It wasn’t love. It was a dependent look that told me he probably only knew how to be with me. Sadly, I wanted someone that was their own person… not someone I moulded. For the first time, he read my eyes before I ever had to say it in words.

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