Was the first time I came for someone besides myself?
Photo by Gaetano Cessati on Unsplash
At seventeen years old, as a senior in high school, I finally started exploring my sexuality with other people ? but not with other high school boys.
I was daring and dangerous and often made questionable choices, like meeting slightly older guys on the internet and what the internet offered back in 1999 was local IRC chat rooms based on topics.
I was going through my goth phase at the time, so that?s where I was looking for someone to meet, and I found him in a guy named Matthew.
We talked online for a few weeks before finally deciding to meet at a restaurant nearby where I was working at the time so that I had a plan for escape if I needed it.
I was in a tight little black dress, fishnets and Doc Martens, he had purple and black hair, wore a full length black trench coat with a complicated array of O rings and buckles, and the same pair of Doc Martens.
When we walked up to me outside of the restaurant he immediately took my hand and kissed the back of my palm before saying hello, and I was at ease immediately.
The conversation flowed freely over lunch and we lingered over cup after cup of coffee until the sun started to go down and Matthew wanted to take me to his favorite cemetery in Mystic ? how goth of him, right?
So, perhaps against my better judgement, I got into a big black Ford Explorer with a guy I?d just met and head off into the sunset to the cemetery.
We were kissing before he had even shut off the car, and I instantly wondered whether I?d made a huge mistake ? he was a horrible kisser.
At seventeen, I hadn?t had THAT many make out sessions to compare it to, but I knew the feeling of his tongue in my mouth was unpleasant.
It was firm and quickly darting around back and forth and there was a lot of spit exchanged, but for some reason I decided to crawl into the back seat with him anyway and see what else might transpire.
Matthew laid the seats down so we could really spread out back there, and I lay on my back and let him kiss me and put his hand up my shirt, where he groped at me greedily as his tongue continued it?s strange dance in my mouth.
And then, he put his hand up my dress and down into my panties? and when I felt someone else?s finger on my vulva for the first time? I was tantalized.
I wasted no time then helping him pull down my panties and tights to get better access, and thankfully his fingers moved slower and more gently than his tongue.
With one, and then two fingers, he gently rubbed up and down my slit, getting me wet ? wetter than I?d ever been in my life up to that point, wetter than I thought was even possible.
He dipped one finger gently into me and then used it to rub my clit for the first time and I remember tensing up from the electricity of his touch, the sheer intense pleasure of the sensation to have someone besides me touching my clit for the first time was enough to make me arch my back and squirm.
He took his time with me, using my wetness to actually massage my entire vulva with his hand, occasionally slipping a finger inside me, teasing me, but mostly just gently stroking and rubbing around my labia and clit.
His kissing still sucked, but I pressed my body down into his hand, my hips starting to move of their own volition, trying to get closer to him, trying to get his fingers inside of me.
Finally, when I didn?t think I could take anymore, when I was writhing with frustration to cum, he sat up and put two fingers in me and started pumping away while he used his thumb to rub my clit up and down.
I spread my legs wider and pushed myself onto him harder, and he got the hint and pumped faster and harder into me, and thankfully he didn?t stop.
I rode his hand all the way to the first orgasm that was ever given to me by someone other than myself, and damn if I didn?t enjoy the ride.
When it was over I lay back panting, waving off his kisses so I could bask for a minute in my own afterglow and process that someone else had just made me cum, and how amazing it was, and how I knew it was something I wanted as often as humanly possible now that I?d had it.
To this day, there?s almost nothing that turns me on more than the feeling of someone else?s fingers exploring my vulva, taking their time to get me good and dripping, sliding their fingers around my labia and clit and finally slipping them into my vagina to bring me to a finish.
Alas, things didn?t work out between us.
As much as he made me feel great with his fingers, he turned me off with his tongue and as keen as I was to get fingered again, I didn?t necessarily want it to be with him.
Despite our not clicking sexually, we?ve stayed in touch over the years.
Matthew is now Lydia, and she?s living her best life out in Ohio, hopefully still fingering people away with the skill and dexterity that was used on me?
Maybe, after all these years, she?s finally a better kisser.
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