My First Time (Part One)

The phone rang.  It was her.  She was home and she wanted me to come see her.
 
It was an unusual moment.  Never before had any woman offered herself to me for an entire afternoon.  It felt good.  It felt sincere.  It felt right.  It was time.
 
I met her online on Grey Cup Sunday, 2004.  Her profile had been popping up in my Yahoo Member Directory searches for a number of months.  The nickname she selected for herself immediately caught my attention.  It screamed sex.  Everything else about her profile left me with mixed feelings.  Then, I investigated her MSN page.  Same reaction.
 
After initially resisting, there was a change of heart.  She was online and I messaged her.  There were short, to-the-point answers to my questions which I didn’t even notice at the time.  I was just happy to get a positive response from someone single.  It was an unexpected conversation, for sure, but one she quickly warmed to.
 
As we kept conversing electronically that evening, something happened.  Comfortability entered the picture.  She was a sweet girl, bright and interesting.  In a little over an hour or so, we talked about various things, most especially matters of the flesh.  When she learned of my lifelong inexperience, her interest in me deepened.  I wondered what she looked like.  She wondered the same thing.
 
Over the course of the next, several days, we drew closer as our chat sessions grew longer, sweeter and more passionate.  By the end of the first week, the atmosphere between us was thick with the anticipation of pleasure.  Real pleasure.  Off-line pleasure.  Oh, how I craved it after so many years of going without.
 
We alternated between typing and talking, lusting and releasing, laughing and getting serious.  Her voice was sensuous and girly.  She had a big belly laugh that came out of nowhere when she became greatly amused about something.  She was irresistible.  And she liked me.  It was eerie how well we got along with each other.
 
One night in December, we were chatting when a particularly acceptable message I had sent her was reciprocated with an "mm". 
 
"Did you moan out loud?", I inquired. 
 
"Yes," came the reply.  "A little."
 
Unfortunately, they were nearby.  Like myself, she hadn’t left the nest.  The computer was, unfortunately, in the dining room.  They were watching TV, just inches away in the next room, but oblivous to what was happening between us.  Instantaneously, a naughty idea flowed through my brain.
 
What if I could give her sweet relief in an unconventional manner?  She couldn’t do anything with her hands, for obvious reasons.  But she had a great imagination and was a voracious reader.  Was it possible to pleasure her with just words on a screen and without the benefit of touch?  Could I get her started while her brain finished the job?  It was worth finding out.
 
I told her what I was up to.  She wondered if it would work.  We got started.
 
As I feverishly banged the keys offering what I hoped would be undeniably titillating, she responded so positively and excitedly that I became determined to keep progressing through my scenario in order to see how far I could take things with her.  It became a fascinating writing exercise.  She wanted to moan so badly that she had to bite down hard on her lip to keep from making a peep.  She was flush with emotion, barely able to contain herself.  Finally, after several minutes, a resolution.  We had inadvertently discovered another way to have kinky fun.
 
Still, it lacked the personal touch and it was all about her, not the both of us.  Nonetheless, my confidence as a writer grew immensely, as did her attraction to me.
 
By mid-December, however, after three weeks of building an online chemistry, it all fell apart.  After not hearing from her one day, an unusual circumstance considering how many hours we spent communicating with each other every day, for some reason I looked up her Yahoo profile.  There was a recent update.  She had fallen in love with some American soldier.  The anger was instantly palpable.  Resisting the temptation to yell at her on the phone, I waited a day before sending her a terse email.
 
Friendship was out of the question.  For me, it was a romance or nothing at all.  It looked like it was over before it truly began.
 
But three months later, we would pick up where we left off.
 
Dennis Earl
Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
10:22 p.m.
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Published in: on May 27, 2008 at 10:23 pm  Comments (1)  

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  1. […] of getting someone pregnant and/or catching some incurable STD (I’m allergic to penicillin), I didn’t end up losing my virginity until I was 29.  (My ex was the only woman I’ve ever been intimate with, as of this […]


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