Firsts

First, thanks to Shay for the picture here (Shay, hope you don't mind I copied it from you). I've kept thinking about it ever since I saw it on
her post the other day about first times.

Aside from the hentai cool factor, there's something about the way her mouth looks so soft and gentle that I love. I (like many men) am a huge fan of the blowjob, but especially the long, slow, soft one. Take your time, I'm not going anywhere. That was a hard lesson to learn, to stop myself from thrusting and trying to get THERE. And sure, sometimes it's fun to flip things over and fuck that mouth. But when I just lay back and enjoy the ride and let it go as long as she's willing, man that was great. A few times, my wife has given me such a fabulous, gentle job that I drift off into some netherworld, floating somewhere nearby. And all the teasing and licking is wonderful buildup to what for me is the best moment, when she first takes me all in, like our little friend here. Anyway, that's why I dig the picture. Thanks again Shay.

Anyway, Shay was talking about how it can be fun and useful to reminisce about our firsts, and I've seen similar posts elsewhere (Artful Dodger had one last week), so I'd been thinking about stuff like that. One of my firsts that I came back to in my mind was the first time a girl touched my cock.

It was spring 1986, and I was finishing eighth grade. I'd had one serious girlfriend in 7th grade, thanks to the fact that I was a very early bloomer, and therefore was full height (and length!) and growing hair and everything a full year before most of the other guys. But that girlfriend never did touch me THERE--lots of making out and some dry grinding, but we never crossed that line. It was still just my own right hand, under the covers every night since I was six, flailing about like a dying fish to get it DONE before I went to sleep. Seriously, the phrase "rubbing one out" was perfect for me.

I was always, as we say in New England, a "wicked smaht kid", so I was on lots of geeky academic teams and such, and that spring, one of my teams won the state competition and got to travel to the University of Michigan for the national competition. Five days of junior high kids in college dorms, just imagine the hormones in the air. The previous summer, I'd gone for my first summer at nerd camp (actually, a three-week summer course for gifted students at a college in Missouri), and was overjoyed to have found other cool, smart kids who didn't make me feel like a freak for liking books and stuff. So I went to this week in Michigan feeling confident and a bit studly.

Apparently it worked, because we spent the week hanging out with all sorts of cute, smart girls (the 4 girls from Oregon were the best), although nothing happened till that last night. There was a dance, and I was picked up by this cute girl with curly blond hair from Pennsylvania. We danced for a while, and then we stole away to one of the basement TV rooms where kids were going to be up all night watching movies. I remember the room had like carpeted levels of seating (like when Kramer got rid of all his furniture and made everything into levels), and we were up in the corner on the highest level. I'm not sure if we really thought people didn't see us, but we really didn't care. We spent the next several hours making out like only teenagers do, and I'm sure that the other people in the room were doing more than glancing our way.

Somewhere in the kissing and rolling around, she slipped her hand down my pants. I'm pretty sure I was wearing some really atrocious orange Jams shorts, which in this case worked in my favor because they had an elastic waistband. Before I even knew what was happening, she had grabbed my cock (which had been at full attention for a LONG time now) and began pulling and stroking and tugging on it. I don't actually recall the physical sensation of it, but I remember being so totally in shock that I wasn't sure what to do. I think I was afraid to move for fear that she would stop. But she didn't, she kept going.

Eventually, I managed to get my hand in her pants, and had my first feel of the soft warmth that lives between a girl's legs. Alas, I had no idea what I was supposed to do once I got that far, so I think all I did was massage her mons--her pubic hair was probably nicely combed by the time I was done.

That night was pretty much a blur from there. I'm sure I came at some point in the course of all that, maybe more than once--not a dramatic, exciting burst, but one of those sloppy, in-your-pants messes that teenage guys suffer over and over. I don't think we slept at all. The next morning, we kissed and exchanged phone numbers and addresses (back in the dark ages before email), and flew back home.

I was a new boy. I felt like such a stud, almost like I'd lost my virginity. As far as I knew, none of my friends had something like that happen to them. But as my self-confidence began to grow, so did my neediness. I called and called and called her, hoping we would convince our parents to drive the 6 hours for us to meet up. Why, my mother would ask? Oh, she's really great and I really like her. All the while trying to figure out how we would ever manage to get alone so she could grab me again. As you would expect, it never happened. By the end of the summer, I had totally scared her off, and never heard from her again. But I still remember that she was the first girl to honor me by taking me in her hand.

With every partner since then, it was a wonderful torture waiting for that first touch. Some took longer, some dove right in, but I always remember waiting and hoping and tingling for that moment when she would first unbutton and/or unzip me and say hello to my not-so-little friend. Even after we'd move past that point to blowing and fucking and all the other fun stuff, every time she would grab ahold of me was something to look forward to.

Even to this day, after almost 9 years with my wife, I still get excited when I sense her hand moving down south. That sensation of her hand on my most private part is pure pleasure. Sure, I grab myself all the time, and I can take care of matters, but her hand is always special and different. No matter how she touches me--little tickling teases, soft and gentle strokes, hard and urgent squeezing, whatever--it feels like magic. That feeling of electricity when her fingers touch me, it's incomparable.