Tag Archives: relationship

March 9, 2012 · 3:51 pm

My First Time With Her

The time had come; or rather the time had long arrived and has patiently awaited me. Finally I was ready; I felt ready and wanted nothing more than to give her a round. Yes, I was ready to express the same love I’ve been spoilt with for over a month. I do know that loving someone comes naturally, yet I found myself in constant hesitation and held back. Love and affection flowed in me but I felt I was too much an amateur to express such a detailed and intimate act. She on the other hand has had her fair share; and she was skilled in her gestures and brought heaven to earth with her tongue. I may not have any to compare her with but I strongly believe no one is above her loving…she gave good loving and as everything begins with a kiss, that is where I began.

Soft gentle kisses that lingered much longer on her delicious neck as goose bumps crept and overtook her warm skin. It must have been her heavy breathing behind my ear because I wanted her! A sudden deep need overcame me and I had no care but to pleasure her. Her soft moans drove me insane and I felt myself go deeper; her belly furiously quivered as I ran my tongue down to her belly button. She heaved and tightened her grip on my shoulder as I reached her lower parts; I thought I heard her murmur a prayer and briefly I prayed too. I prayed that my love be more than enough, I prayed that I complete her and most importantly I prayed that we become one.

I proceeded to kiss her inner thighs and could smell her arousing deliciousness, and in my mind were only thoughts of love. I wanted to express my love to her, and to make her feel as special as she makes me feel so I tasted her, her wet and sticky lips welcomed mine with a longing. I kissed her even more, much deeper, longer and detailed this time. Her hand rested on my head, and with my tongue I penetrated and made love to her. She came soon and intensely,her body loosened and when I looked in her eyes she was to me the most beautiful soul.

I rested next to her enjoying the simple pleasure of being in her presence, the  room was still and peaceful. After what seemed like an hour she turned to face me. ‘How do you feel?’, she asked. How did I feel? I honestly didn’t know but I had no regrets. Everything felt right and to me what was important above all was that she was satisfied. ‘The same way you do’ was my response.

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December 13, 2011 · 1:00 pm

The first time I do it

The first time I do it… It will be right. It will be smooth and well crafted. It will not take a toll on me that hangs. Tugging down my shoulders keeping my chin from pushing my eyes up to see the layers of building tops touch the sky.

The first time I do it… finally to a man. Finally, to feel equal and stand up to him, to talk back, to call him out. To be assertive. The first time I do it… it will be authentic.

The first time will be quickly forgotten as it will be the first day that I step into that skin. The skin that I have been crafting in my mind. This skin will suit me, it has come from my mind, representing my heart, what I think and feel and especially what I know.  The first time will befinally; and then, yes, then forgotten.

It simply becomes the way that I am. Every day. Not that one significant time that I acted the way that I would love for every woman to act. Every day, for every woman to feel free to act out against any one, especially men. To act out without fear of ridicule because we have the right. Just as one knows they are innocent.. I know that I am powerful. I have the right to be, feel and act equal.

I have the greatest desire to, for the first time… not cow-toe in inferiority, not be afraid of disapproval, not feel dizzy with the conflict between mind and behavior. I won’t care if I hurt his feelings nor will I be concerned with the interpretations of others of me: abrasive, harsh, bitchy, extreme, angry, bitter, cold, childish, pushy, touchy. I will be proud of my authentic assertion, and not ony the first time.

I know that finally, and for the first time, I finally will have found so much of me that I have been searching to know.

The part that woke me up from slumber inside of a relationship where the part of me that makes people laugh had vanished. The part that stands up for the women I know and love. The part of me that loves and trusts her womanhood. That part of me that has come out fiercely and courageously in the company of women.

Only was I able to stand up and confront the pick pocketer and the crafty thief on the bus when it was a woman and her son. Only was I able to take charge that time we were lost out on a mountain and the headlights went out.. when I was with my best friend a beautiful and successful woman. I know I have a Sergeant inside. I know she is there and she is GOOD and she has come around in the presence of women, but she has been trained so well to take her subordinate place in the presence of men.

After the first time my behavior catches up with what I know, I will for the first time stand up courageously without regard to gender. After the first time, I will not ignore the man’s hand quickly groping me on the street (again). I will not be reluctant, worrying about embarrassing him or the woman he is with. That poor old creep who sees me as the parts of my body that he has a desire to abuse will not be ignored by me. Nor will I again be quiet and polite to the man following me, inappropriate with his words about MY body. I will not tell him that “Today, I just want to be alone,” or “Yes, it’s because I have a boyfriend, sorry”.

The first time I do it I will finally be saying goodbye to the path of least resistance.

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December 7, 2011 · 8:22 am

My first time was not my first time

For as long as I can recall I’ve never been a virgin. I remember in my teen years, when my peers were proud of their virginity and spoke about it often. At the time I was fortunate not to be asked blatantly whether I was still a virgin, I’m not sure if I would have been honest. Even more importantly, I remember being grateful that it was not part of my culture to be tested for virginity. I would have disgraced my family, and would have had to explain myself. So I hid my virginity status, mostly helped by assumptions that I must be a virgin since I’m such an introvert.

The question came up with my boyfriend years later though and I couldn’t run away from it, this time it was blatantly asked and required an answer. He did everything right this one evening, got me to the point where my mind was begging him to enter me. Unlike the other times, I let him go all the way, as they say. Suddenly he was huge on top of me, heavy; I disconnected. I opened my eyes and looked at him intensely, no longer feeling the pleasure of the thrust, gentle as he was, but terror of being pressed down. Moans and groans of pleasure turned into winces of pain and panic.

There was something painfully familiar with picture. Me vulnerable. Him powerful. Me the victim, he the perpetrator. He was my unknowing rapist. He was enjoying a moment that brought me pain and displeasure and fear and vulnerability and hatred…I willed him to stop, my mind screamed, but my mouth did not cooperate. Here I was again, helpless, pressed down, small. The object of this man’s pleasure.

He must have felt the disconnection, rather delayed but felt it nonetheless. I would be grateful later for his recognition of my displeasure, for his attentiveness to my responses. At the moment though, he was that perpetrator and I hated him. He stopped, pulled away slightly, I took a deep quivering breath. He looked at me, “are you okay?” he asked and hugged me tightly.  I cried in his arms, realising our special moment had been haunted. Something good came out of this experience though: I am unshaken in the belief that not all men are the same.

He asked much later in our lives, ‘when we made love for the first time, was it your first time?” I responded, “voluntarily, yes.” My first time- and second, and third and fourth were in fact at the age of five, with a sixteen-year-old uncle.

I’m not fond of sharing stories about my first time; it was anything but special and loving. Every day is yet another struggle to lock it away  into the deepest part of my unconscious mind.

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