The Shocking Truth About My First Time

Whenever someone asks me how I got into this business, the answer is inextricably linked to how I first did anything kinky at all.  What I sought out, where I went, who I played with, what actually transpired.  Until a week or so ago, I was under the impression that it happened because of some mysterious need I had of which I did not know the origin.  Perhaps a morbid fascination with darkness, secret societies, and underground cultures.  Perhaps a genetic predisposition.  My deeply thought-about (so I thought) answer has always been:  I am unsure, I just knew I was interested in spanking and I knew I wanted to do something weird, so I sought it out where ever I could. 

It's funny how your memory can be sparked by masturbating, as I was thinking about a woman lover I had the summer before I went to college.  We were high school buddies, but one day she decided that she wanted to attack me on the couch while watching some godawful movie about The Call of Cthulu.  I fantasize about this sometimes, because it was so powerful, and because it is rare for me to find a woman to whom I am attracted.  Usually the fantasy doesn't get past the point of making out, at which time I usually shoot my load.  However,  this time I followed the memory to it's end, and remembered that she attacked me in numerous ways which resemble ways that I currently attack men.

Her father was a preacher, and had abused her since she was very little.  As a result, she emancipated from her parents when she was 15, dropped out of high school (although she did extremely well), and slept on various couches of various men who she relied on in a "kindness of strangers" sort of way.  She was the first of us to smoke cigarettes, had a beat-up car which she probably drove too fast, worked as a stripper, and painted things she saw in her dreams.  She would show up mysteriously and disappear in the same way, like a rebellious pixie.  We went to the beach, read poetry aloud, danced, sang, shouted, drank too much soda, stayed up all night talking- all the things I suppose you do when you're a teenager.  Her life seemed to constantly be in crisis, but somehow she made everything magical.  I don't know how else to explain it, but I think you know what I mean.

This freedom of spirit of course extended into her sex life.  I remember her showing me the dildo which she made her boyfriend suck on and take in his ass (which I beheld with much fascination and disbelief).  She encouraged him to sleep with other men (which he grudgingly agreed to do, I think just to please her), and suggested to our group of friends that we have an orgy.  No one actually wanted to have an orgy, so her suggestions were met with blank stares and cunning subject changes.  Then we would talk behind her back about how outrageous the suggestion was, and how gross the actualization of it would be.  She then went on a campaign to get the boys in the group to have sex with one boy whose sexuality seemed ambiguous at the time (he's a flaming homosexual now), which was also met with much derision, yet trepidation that they would be seen as boorish if they refused.

The things she did to me, now that I look back, were fairly tame, and obviously the gropings of a teenager who does not quite know what she is doing, but she impressed me with a sense of the myriad possibilities within sexuality.  I hesitate to give this information away, as I feel the moment would lose part of it's power.  I still know her, but we have never spoken about what happened.

Anyway, I'm just glad I remembered.


xoxo.