I found out Chloe was a virgin before Christmas. It wasn't a shock, but the way she wrote made me hope it wasn't so. After her birthday, Chloe laid it on thick, and all of the topics I had postponed discussing because she was underage, she sucked from my brain like a thirsty embalmer. It wasn't too long before she was lying to her mom and visiting my house instead of Hailey's.
I tried to be careful with her. At first I didn't let her enter my bedroom, and when I finally did, I made sure to sit on separate furniture. I don't really know what my hesitation was, but something compelled me to release the brakes slowly.
It was the day we sat on the same couch that we first kissed. My heart lunged into my rib cage. My hands sweat, but not more than hers.
It felt wrong to kiss her and I stopped. I absolutely felt like I was kissing a teenager, not because she slobbered all over me, but because she took my cues like directives. The inequity was apparent, and I knew that this path would lead to emotional attachment, if not for eternity, than at least for longer than I could support. I tried to explain this, and, as one would expect, she denied it.
I couldn't stop seeing her. Something about the way she hugged me, letting her fingers slide down my forearms as she released, the way she pressed her cheek against mine and breathed warmly onto my neck, it was more than I could give up. She looked at me like she wanted me to change her life, and I knew that she would remember everything that I said and did.
I asked friends their opinions and the ones who read my blog wanted me to do it, and the ones who didn't thought I should be careful. No one said a definitive no, except my father. I wanted to listen to him.
I met her on the beach on Christmas, close to sunset. It was an extremely windy day and we took refuge next to a lifeguard tower. I told her that I had decided we shouldn't keep seeing each other. She asked me why. I told her that I couldn't support a relationship with her, and that she can't see now how she would get attached to the guy who took her virginity.
Her response: Then fuck me and don't date me.
After all of my deliberation and counseling, these crass words suddenly flipped a switch. It might sound awful, but those were the sexiest words I had ever heard spoken to me. All of a sudden, the realistic possibility of sleeping with beautiful Chloe seemed tangible, and my fantasies for the past two months were on the verge of materializing.
That night she made arrangements to sleep over. As we started to take our clothes off, she seemed happy and relieved. I felt a pang of disappointment when I saw that she was shaven. How did porn chic infiltrate the 18 and under crowd?
I soon found out that Chloe hadn't had any type of sex, which made me hesitate for no more than a minute. Although the situation now felt that much more ridiculous, I had already made the decision, and I was going to follow through.
It hurt her a lot, more than the two virgins I had slept with during college. Regardless, it went well. She cried appropriately and we laid together in bed looking at each other for a long time. I thought that I had done right by her, that I had made the experience everything that I could.
She told me that she was happy that I was her first, and that she couldn't imagine someone better to lose it to. At the time, I believed her, and I did for the next couple of weeks. It is only now, a month later, that I know I was deluding myself.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Drop Dead Legs
Yes, Chloe has those. She has drop dead legs, though I am historically more of a boob guy. Her boobs are small but finely shaped - I love those kind too. Recently, I have tended to desire plump asses, as that last girl, Morgan, left me wondering where to grab when she was pressed against me.
Chloe has thin, long legs, perky, smallish boobs, and a butt to hang onto...I can imagine. No, I have experienced it, and I will write about it next post. However, this post is about something else. It's about what Chloe has.
What some women don't realize, and what I didn't realize until a month ago, is that not all guys get turned on simply by an attractive naked female body. There are several things that feed into a man's sexual desires, whether they be physical, mental, aural, or olfactory. What I've found is that certain aspects of a girl that I normally find sexy might not be working for me on any given day, so the more tools I have, the easier it is to stay excited, and, let's now be honest, keep my erection.
Maintaining an erection with a new girl is easy - something is always exciting about a new body, different clit, unique sounds she makes. But, now that I'm older (it started at the ripe old age of 26), my erections have not been automatic. I use the tools of a girl's anatomy and personality to keep me good for her pleasure, but they do wear down. My friend Jon suggested that work stress and general self-confidence can also play a part in it. He may be right, but I know - and I've thought a lot about this - that I'm right too.
It happened a month into it with Sofia. To backtrack: on the second date Sofia let me under her Peruvian quilt and it was splendid at first. We had gone meringue dancing earlier that night and she made me feel like a born-again Bar Mitzvah boy - popped my first boner on the dance floor in 14 years. Her hips twisted like curly peyes, and when she rocked them against me, I couldn't help but nudge her back.
However, after a few weeks of pretty consistent sex, the condoms began to feel thicker, and her moaning turned into a good song that I played on repeat one too many times (think Paper Planes circa August 2008). While it may seem as though I am destined to tire of every girl at some point for all eternity - and I'll admit that the possibility pains me every day - the box of tools Sofia gave me, though they were powerful ones, felt like a starter kit compared to the walloping contractor's package Chloe slid under my Christmas tree that December 25th we took the plunge.
You see, what Chloe has on her side is excitement. Her legs, breasts, ass, and lips are supplemented by her sexual curiosity, youth, and impressive learning curve(s). Knowing that the songs she moans are being written for the first time, in real time, grows my sexual exhilaration. She writes well and plays piano better. She makes me laugh with terse, acute text messages, and follows my eyes when I look away. She moves like I taught her to, and she orgasms with intensity that I haven't known for a while.
It's been a month with Chloe, and while I feel there is something wrong about this, that I should have moved past this kind of pleasure by now at 27, almost 28, I still haven't softened for the girl.
Chloe has thin, long legs, perky, smallish boobs, and a butt to hang onto...I can imagine. No, I have experienced it, and I will write about it next post. However, this post is about something else. It's about what Chloe has.
What some women don't realize, and what I didn't realize until a month ago, is that not all guys get turned on simply by an attractive naked female body. There are several things that feed into a man's sexual desires, whether they be physical, mental, aural, or olfactory. What I've found is that certain aspects of a girl that I normally find sexy might not be working for me on any given day, so the more tools I have, the easier it is to stay excited, and, let's now be honest, keep my erection.
Maintaining an erection with a new girl is easy - something is always exciting about a new body, different clit, unique sounds she makes. But, now that I'm older (it started at the ripe old age of 26), my erections have not been automatic. I use the tools of a girl's anatomy and personality to keep me good for her pleasure, but they do wear down. My friend Jon suggested that work stress and general self-confidence can also play a part in it. He may be right, but I know - and I've thought a lot about this - that I'm right too.
It happened a month into it with Sofia. To backtrack: on the second date Sofia let me under her Peruvian quilt and it was splendid at first. We had gone meringue dancing earlier that night and she made me feel like a born-again Bar Mitzvah boy - popped my first boner on the dance floor in 14 years. Her hips twisted like curly peyes, and when she rocked them against me, I couldn't help but nudge her back.
However, after a few weeks of pretty consistent sex, the condoms began to feel thicker, and her moaning turned into a good song that I played on repeat one too many times (think Paper Planes circa August 2008). While it may seem as though I am destined to tire of every girl at some point for all eternity - and I'll admit that the possibility pains me every day - the box of tools Sofia gave me, though they were powerful ones, felt like a starter kit compared to the walloping contractor's package Chloe slid under my Christmas tree that December 25th we took the plunge.
You see, what Chloe has on her side is excitement. Her legs, breasts, ass, and lips are supplemented by her sexual curiosity, youth, and impressive learning curve(s). Knowing that the songs she moans are being written for the first time, in real time, grows my sexual exhilaration. She writes well and plays piano better. She makes me laugh with terse, acute text messages, and follows my eyes when I look away. She moves like I taught her to, and she orgasms with intensity that I haven't known for a while.
It's been a month with Chloe, and while I feel there is something wrong about this, that I should have moved past this kind of pleasure by now at 27, almost 28, I still haven't softened for the girl.
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