First Times

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Before… before the beginning, I had been told by many that I was defective. But also before the beginning – meaning before “we” dreamt of being sexual with one another – “he” said that I was not. I knew that he cared about me and that he wanted the best for me. I thought that having him – us having one another, to learn and care for each other, would “be the best,” I knew that I could “care for him” – so we talked. Okay, at first I was the one who was talking. But he listened, really listened, and he didn’t walk away.

In the beginning I just dreamt of being intimate with him. I dreamt of being “with” him when I was “alone” with myself. Alone pleasing myself, which was a “good” – but not a “great” activity. I talked to him about “us” in broad strokes. His viewpoint – which was positive while remaining practical – and his reaction – basically that he didn’t turn away from the discussion screaming – gave me the courage to wordlessly ask for him to “be mine.”

He took my hint and asked me. Then – after the beginning – so many wonderful days went by. There were so many first times. My first “real” kiss, my first beneath my clothes feel, my first “tingling” caused Dikmen Escort by his hands feeling me beneath my clothes. The first time I wore nothing but a big tee-shirt for him and showed him my naked bottom. Then I slowly turned around so he could see my naked front. Then I even more slowly lifted that shirt off.

The first time I felt his lips caressing my body. His mouth on my chest, my breasts, my belly, my thighs, my butt, and my pubes. The first time that I reciprocated and my lips made that same wonderful journey on his naked body. The first night that I slept, actually slept, naked in his arms.

The first time my fingertips touched his sex. The first time his touched mine. The first time my lips touched his penis, and my tongue. The first time I tasted semen, and consumed it. The first time his lips touched my labia, kissing and then playfully nibbling. The first time his tongue tickled my opening before he imbibed in my slick nectar.

The first time I made him come, the first time he made me. Which – or who – came first who knows – or cares – we both did over and over again. Then he “made” Eryaman Escort me a woman. That first sharp little localized pain as my thin membrane tore and he was there, inside of me. Then that first rush of adrenaline when I realized that he was inside of me for the first time.

Wishing that I had a tube of ‘superglue’ at that very moment.

The first time I was stimulated from the inside – by a part of him inside me. That close up sensation augmented by the first time we reacted to “the 28-day-count” by trying another entry point. That stimulation being different. It was deliciously deeper, coming from further away.

Many first times. One for each new combination was figuratively “logged” as we alternated and added and mixed it all up. How we included my best friend after her painful breakup with “her him” who was not as nice as “my him.” Then the first taste I enjoyed of a pussy that was not my own.

The first time I held my friend as my – and now our – lover ate her and fucked her. Front, back, and topside just as he did me. The first time he held her so that I might ravage her and Esat Escort then the first time he held me so she might do the same to me.

Then a really big first time. After four years of perfect timing we switched it up and tried hitting southpaw for a change. On that first cycle we had perfect timing too, knocking one out of the park going the opposite way. That first sperm colliding with that first egg and 280 days later we welcomed our first child.

In between was the first time I didn’t bleed on schedule. The first time he worked his whole hand inside of me to gradually make me bigger. To make my task easier. Then the first time I took two hands. The first time that he massaged my aching mammaries and I leaked a creamy lactose rich substance. Then the first time he consumed the same. The first time we turned removing the excess pressure, turning production into a game.

The first time we carefully did “it” afterward. The first time we took a leap of faith and trusted to engage someone else to watch the tiny one. So the original sleep deprived two could sneak away together. But not too far away lest the omnipresent cell phone ring. For us to enjoy “the first time in quite a while.”

There was our first time doing this, and the first time we tried that. Each first time was shared with “he who ‘came’ first” with me – and deep inside of me. I remember my first time. I remember it very well. In part because my “first time” hasn’t stopped happening… not yet… and I hope it never will.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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