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It’s a Sex Type Thing

By August 15, 2019No Comments
depositphotos 217507892 xl 2015

When I was sixteen, I met a boy. He was a year older than me, a rev-head and kind of cute. He gave me roses and bought me things made of gold, and he was the first boy I slept with. I didn’t hold out for long. Three weeks to be exact. The sex topic was hot on the agenda back then and I was eager to explore.  

About a year beforehand, a girlfriend found an old book and brought it to school. I don’t know where she had unearthed that book. It was a tattered paperback brimming with pornographic stories. None of us had experienced sex, but man, we couldn’t get enough of that book. We’d huddle together during the lunch break and read it aloud, our eyes popping from their sockets with tales of gigantic penises and horny women doing stuff we’d never thought possible. It sure beat the sex-ed classes dished out by our all-girl high school.

That first time is never what you expect it to be. There were no earth-shattering orgasms rocking my world. In fact, there were no orgasms during that five-year relationship – period. I got good at faking it, though. Even thereafter, the all-important climax via penetration eluded me for years. I learned how to master the fake orgasm. Every woman probably does at some point.

Luckily, my first husband was gifted in other areas. Like cunnilingus. I thanked the heavens for that because the rev-head thought going down on a woman was like a Pacman game at an all-you-can-eat pellet buffet. Munch … munch.


How is it that some guys don’t understand the art of cunnilingus? I mean, we’re not walking around with an impenetrable armor between our legs. There are some delicate bits going on down there. Think pressure, but soft and steady, use fingers at the same time and for god’s sake, when a woman is moaning like a breathless goddess, don’t stop and change tactics all of a sudden – you might just interrupt the flow. Oh yeah and keep the sharp ends of your teeth out of it and the hardcore sucking for a lollipop.

I stayed with the rev-head until I was twenty-one. During that time, my single girlfriends were living that life. You know, the one where you work all week and come the weekends, you’re hitting the club scene and partying hard. Occasionally, I’d join them. But rev-head wasn’t into clubbing and he disliked the thought of me venturing out without him. Too many fellas on the horizon, you see.

He wasn’t wrong. My friends were into one-night stands for a while there. The thought intrigued me – great, casual sex with a stranger and no strings attached. Sounded like one of those Jackie Collins novels I’d readily devoured years earlier. Those characters had the BEST sex with strangers. By the time things were over with rev-head, I was determined to fulfill the fantasy. I was going to embark on my first one-nighter.

He was a Croatian guy and a few years older than me. He took me back to his pad and introduced me to his bedroom before introducing me to the biggest penis I’d ever seen. Of course, at the time I’d only one other to compare it to. I swear, he almost broke me with that thing. It was as thick as a tree trunk and just as hard. He was speeding too. Which meant, the end was nowhere in sight. For him. It was a different story for me, though. Round one and I was out, hobbling back home as the sun began to rise.

He called me a few days later, and a few times again after that wanting to see me. Umm… since when did a one-nighter turn into more? That rarely happened in a J.C. novel. I don’t even know how he got my number. Besides, one round with what he was packing was more than enough.

Fast forward twelve years and divorced, I was ready to try another one-nighter. The driving thought was that my now husband was completely doing my head in and seemed to have difficulty deciding if he wanted me or not. Well, let’s rephrase that – he wanted me, just on his terms, and his terms meant he could come and go as he pleased … and perhaps fuck other women in between those bouts of silence when he was “emotionally torn about what to do”. Poor baby. So, I eventually decided to take a page out of his book and hook up with someone.

Small towns. Everyone knew my husband in that town. He was one of those guys – you know, the suave, confident type that had no trouble picking up women and systematically made his way through half of the town. Of course, I had no idea of his reputation when our paths crossed. How could I? I was a single mother that rarely left the house. It was when my folks happened to be visiting from out of town and I ventured out with some friends one Saturday night that I met him. And no, I didn’t go home with him that night. Although, he tried very hard to persuade me otherwise.

The point is, when I went out with the intention to hook up with someone, I ended up with a sweet man that knew my beau. Yeah. He had a friend too. No, I’m not about to tell you I had a threesome. His friend was a fireman and hooked up with my girlfriend. Those two didn’t waste any time. They made for the bedroom as soon as we arrived at their place, leaving me with my guy and a whole bunch of “what the hell am I doing here?” thoughts racing through my head.

He didn’t push it, so we hung out and talked for a while before eventually fooling around a bit. That’s when it got awkward. The moment he entered me I started to cry. Say what? I know, right. Things didn’t stay too hard after that. The fire had fizzled beneath my steady stream of tears. I can’t imagine how he felt, other than it being an epic fail. I guess I’m not cut out to be a J.C. character after all.

End of one-nighters for me.

So, I pull on my clothes with thoughts of wanting to get the fuck out of that house as soon as possible. I barge into the bedroom where my girlfriend was sprawled on the bed – legs wide, fireman bottom up, face buried deep between her thighs. Remember what I said about not stopping when you’re on the magic roll in the cunnilingus department?

My girlfriend wanted to kill me. Still, I’d interrupted their moment and despite her efforts to usher me away, I wasn’t budging. She had the car, I needed to leave. We left. But not before she demanded that he call her. He didn’t.

I ran into that sweet guy a couple of months later and he gave me a big hug. I was out with my husband. By that time, he’d come to his senses and realized that real love doesn’t show up every so often, and that sex with someone you love is SO much better than the fleeting exchanges between strangers. And finally, after years of wondering if it was possible, I’d discovered that earth-shattering orgasms can be achieved via penetration. And it blew my mind, among other things.   

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