The First Time

I got a special request for this particular story, in this particular format...

Not my first time, nor yours. Not even the last first time. But it was our first time, and it was different than all the others, and I knew it then. And I think you knew it then, too.

The weekend had been a long one...a ski trip full of good friends and good food and too much drink. The tension had been building for a long time, but was clearly accelerating all weekend. The looks lasted a little longer, the touches lingered just a moment longer, and the casual contact was just a moment longer than would truly be casual. Other relationships with other people in the house were clearly becoming nuisance obstacles to what was to come.

And then there was a long, tired ride home and take-out Mexican food and several margaritas and then finally we were alone. It wasn't weird. It wasn't awkward. But it was definitely different. Almost like you wore a sign announcing your new attitude. Towards me. Towards us. Towards everything.

The shower was necessary, both because we had been up too long, and because of the surreal effect of steam and pounding water. This was a surreal moment, a long time in the making, the continuation of something big, and the start of something really huge. Warm water on tired muscles, hands and bodies entwined and slick with soap, searching for the means to please. The buildup should have made for a sense of urgency, but time was standing still. We had nowhere to go, no one to see, and no place we would rather be.

You washed my hair. You told me so much with so few words. You closed your eyes and stretched your arms while I cleaned you, and kissed you, and told you things I had already said, but now meant so much more. Never an ounce of shame, never an ounce of regret. This was right and it was good, and it erupted up from deep inside of you when you threw your head back and tensed and shook and gasped, immersed in the enjoyment, in the love of the moment. In us.

And for me, I just wanted to hold you. None of the usual writhing; the back arching; the pushing forward in search for more. All I wanted was to wrap you as tightly as I could with every ounce of my strength...almost as if, just my sheer force of embrace, you could share in the bliss that started from my loins and exploded outwards through my whole body. So good, I just wanted to share.

This made everything different. It made everything better. From there to the bed, which you shared that night and many others. When we told them, there was no surprise, really...others had seen this coming at least as long as you and I. And when you finally told her, I wondered why you had never told her sooner.

First times are always special, but not like this. Special not for the excitement of a new lover. Not for the thrill of the hunt or the joy of the conquest. Not for the sheer intensity of it. Special because of who you are, and who I am, and who we are. Special because of the place you already own in my heart. Special because of the place I hold in yours.

It wasn't my first time, nor was it yours. But it was ours. And that makes it what it is.