My first (and only) boyfriend while in high school was a little older and already done with school. My family heard the rumors and my siblings couldn’t get enough of teasing me. I tend to be very secretive about my romantic affairs because I feel like the people around me begin to have high hopes; and then when the inevitable break up happens, it’s like having the blood of a thousand broken hearts on my hands. I’d usually just rather the guy never met my family, they never bonded and when it all ends, it’s just us two nursing heartache or some shit like that.
Anyway, my mother would have none of my meeting some strange guy and insisted I couldn’t go out with him till she and the whole family put a face to him. And so on what was to be our first date, I called him up to say I wasn’t coming to town and could he just come home instead?
His guts probably made my family love him instantly- or maybe a boyfriend was so unheard of for me, they were going to love whoever I brought home because blue moons!
The first time we were going to kiss, I warned him that I didn’t know how to. And so he showed me; in between intervals of me laughing and telling him to wait for the giggles to subside so I can take this seriously dammit!
Things escalated pretty quickly from there on because, regardless of what I was told about holding back my goodies for a long long time so that the guy could respect me, I truly just wanted to explore his goodies and him, mine. Fuck respect.
I think I giggled like a fool the first time I held his penis in my hands and it twitched, like it was a living breathing alien.
He is pretty well endowed and I told him in advance, that no matter what ways we explored each other, his dick was going nowhere inside me. Not “just the tip”, no nothing. We have never actually fucked to date even though we still talk about fetishes and BDSM fantasies we’d like to try out.
And so sometime last year, in one of our conversations, I told him I’d write about him because I think it is right that he should know how positive an impact he’s had on my sexuality.
I have grown up in circles where I was warned I’d be misused if I willingly opened my body to a man who had not put a ring on it. I was also supposed to wait and be sufficiently coerced into sex, not eagerly reach into a willing man’s pants and touch him.
So I’d like to thank him for being the first to safely and very patiently introduce me into other ways of sex; to hand jobs at my own pace, and blowjobs that didn’t involve forced gagging like in bad porn; and most importantly, to gentle fingers and the amazing ways of the tongue.
Some of us girls grow up in places where we were told (and told each other) that a vagina shouldn’t smell at all, and that if it does, it’s probably dirty and should not be openly presented, leave alone tasted.
Cunnilingus helped me better love my vagina and realize that it was never a dirty disgusting thing simply because it smelled a certain way even after washing; or because its muskiness became stronger when it is touched just right.
To date, while I still find penises fascinating to toy around with, they are for me the least important part of a man I intend to fuck. His mouth however I would pay close attention to. How using it, he voices his thoughts when he speaks, and to how he kisses my lips and my lips.
Lucky for me, stupid easily shows itself by way of mouth. And no matter how long my dry spells last, I’d always rather fuck self than fuck stupid.
(featured image : afronoire.com)