Since I started this journal several of you folks have asked me about my past. Who've I been with? you want to know. What was it like, being with them? Did they let you....y'know....do THAT to them? Did they hurt you? Did you hurt them? Did you learn anything from them? Would you do it again, if you had a chance?
So I'm going to write some entries about my history, limited as it is, and let you see for yourself. As always, all names I use here have been changed.
Part 3: Melissa
I've written a bit about Melissa before (see this entry for details) but here's the full story.
I met Melissa at a Fourth of July party hosted by my friend Jonathan. She was a friend of Jonathan's sister. I liked her looks, liked her long curly black hair, liked her intelligence and ready wit, liked her geeky chic look, liked her geeky interests. We spent a lot of time talking that night but I left without getting her number. So, feeling like I was in grade school and sending a note to someone asking "Do you like me? Please check yes or no", I called up Jonathan's sister and, after hemming and hawing a bit, finally got around to asking if Melissa was seeing anyone. I could actually HEAR the smile in her voice as she said no, Melissa wasn't dating anybody, and by the way, would I like her number?
Good god, women can see right through us, can't they?
It was three more days before I got up the nerve to call Melissa, but she seemed delighted to hear from me and we made a date for that weekend. I drove down to see her (she lived about an hour away from me) and we had a perfectly lovely evening. Dinner out, a trip by a bookstore we both loved, winding up with a walk outside on a lovely summer night. We ended up on a wooden swing in her apartment complex, just talking. The night was warm, the stars were kind. I put an arm around her. We talked less and less, letting the silences build. And finally there was a moment when we both turned to each other, and the silence stretched, and slowly, slowly, I bent my face to hers.
If there is such a thing as a perfect first kiss, that was it. It seemed like we both wanted exactly the same thing, and were perfectly in tune with each other; I could see the anticipation on her face and it must have mirrored my own. Her eyes closed a bare moment before her lips met mine and I swear I heard her sigh softly. Her lips were warm and soft, a little damp; I tasted a hint of sweat on her upper lip from our walk.
We kissed, and kissed again. There were no words, only a growing urgency as our mouths merged. Warm lips, and growing warmer; they opened under mine and her tongue slid into my mouth. She moaned and I sighed in response. Our kisses built and built. Her arms went round my neck. We kissed, and kissed, and kissed.
Eventually I broke from her and mentioned something about not wanting to get arrested (we were, after all, still in a public place, albeit somewhat secluded on this little backyard swing). So we went into her apartment, where we made it all of five feet from the door before I backed her against the wall and we resumed our oral duel. More kisses, hungry now, full of fire. We must have stood there, just kissing and hands gently exploring, for a good fifteen minutes.
In what may have been one of the all-time bonehead moves, I fianlly broke from her again and said that I'd better head home now, or pretty soon I wasn't going to be able to. There was a hint of disappointment on her face but she agreed that it was probably best to cut things off there for now. I asked if she'd like to come visit me next weekend and she looked delighted. She immediately went to her desk, pulled out a pad of paper, and asked for directions; seeing her bent over the desk like that, I just couldn't resist. I slipped up behind her and put both arms around her, hands going to her breasts, fondling them and squeezing gently.
Now I didn't know it yet, but Melissa's total weak point was her breasts. Just a touch there was enough to get her hot and bothered, and so when I began fondling her tits that night after our heated kissing interlude, she told me later that she felt a spike of desire go through her so sharply that she wanted to turn around and jump me right then and there. As it was, she moaned loudly and pressed back against me, rubbing her ass against my crotch, confirming for herself that I was just as turned on as she was.
Somehow, I don't know how, I managed to stop after a minute or two, and in a ragged voice I finished giving her directions to my place. I drove off feeling a giddy excitement that she evidently shared.
A week later, and Melissa and I were parked on my couch, watching TV. My roommate, showing an understanding beyond belief, had absented himself for the evening (in fact, he crashed at someone else's pad that night, giving me -- us -- plenty of privacy). It had been another fine evening, full of more good conversation and laughter, with plenty of double entendres and innuendos. Sitting there on my couch soon gave way to more kissing and exploration; soon she was lying back and moaning while my lips brushed against her neck and my hands slipped underneath the shirt she wore to find warm flesh beneath.
After a few more minutes of delicious torture, I found the balls to bring up protection. In all-time bonehead move #2, I hadn't bothered to pick up any condoms ahead of time, somehow thinking that I'd be jinxing things if I did. She agreed, with a sultry smile, that we should go and get some. Like, right now. Like, how fast can we get there and back?
I set a new record for a trip to the grocery store, and pretty soon we were back in my apartment, and then in my bedroom. I undressed her slowly, so slowly, marveling at her body -- she had a fantastic figure, womanly, full of curves. It wasn't a model's frame, but I didn't care -- the curve of her hips, the globes of her ass, the magnificent swells of her breasts -- oh god, she had fantastic tits. Soft, full, hanging heavy under their own weight, large hard nipples, begging to be sucked. And I sucked them, and she moaned, and soon we were on my bed, and I had my head buried between her legs, and I was slurping her pussy until she was crying out my name with joy.
It was here that I made yet another tactical error. I had been hard from pretty much the get-go, and the smart thing would have been to give her an oral orgasm and then give her what both of us were obviously wanting very badly -- a good, proper fucking. But she tasted so good and she was enjoying my attentions so much that I just kept right on going. She came again. And again. And again. And my aching cock was still aching. And pretty soon my balls were aching too, from frustration. But I ignored them and kept slurping away at her. Again she came. Again. And my balls were REALLY aching now, to the point where I made a soft sound of pain when I shifted position. After about an hour and a half of oral delight for her, she was begging me to take her. I fumbled a condom open, got my jeans and underwear off and tried to slip it on, but discovered to my horror that the steady dull pain from my balls -- now quite intense! -- had made me go soft. I massaged myself a bit to see if I could get hard again, and my balls sent a fresh bolt of pain through me. I tried a few more times, and Melissa even had a go herself, wrapping her fingers around me and then taking my cock in her mouth -- but it was no go.
Eventually we halted for the night, me still bright red from shame, she waving it off as nothing serious. "It happens sometimes, don't worry about it," she said. "We'll try again another time. And there WILL be another time, believe me." She fell asleep in my arms, and I lay there reflecting that sometimes too much foreplay really IS too much. Yet another lesson learned.
A week later, and Melissa had sent me a letter informing me that she didn't really like condoms much anyway, and so she'd been to see the doctor to get on the pill. She went on in much more intimate detail, telling me exactly how beautiful and sexual she felt when she was with me, and telling me how much she looked forward to seeing me again and continuing where we'd left off.
And we did. Oh, god, did we ever.
Again my roommate had absented himself for the evening (man, did I owe him big-time) and this time we skipped all the preliminaries like dinner and conversation. She showed up at my door and we went directly to bed -- do not pass Go, do not collect $200, go directly to hot makeouts. This time she undressed me, and then I undressed her, and we stood there, nude, caressing and kissing for ten or fifteen minutes, hands exploring heated flesh. I slipped two fingers inside her; she was wet, so wet, and her knees buckled when I penetrated her. She retaliated by wrapping her hand around my shaft and pumping me oh so slowly. I bore her backward onto the bed and she spread her legs wide, breathing "Now, now, do it now,". I slid about a bit, trying to find the right spot, and suddenly I found the right spot and there was no longer any doubt as I sank into her.
God, what a feeling, to be inside a woman for the first time, unencumbered by a condom. Rachel and I had made love many times but had used a condom for each. This was the first time I'd had sex without one and oh dear GOD it felt good. I think I just lay there on top of her, grinning, cock pulsing inside her, for a good two or three minutes, before I even started to move. But eventually I did, and she began moving with me, and before the night was over we had fucked four times.
That was the beginning of a beautiful relationship -- at least, in the bedroom. Rachel had initiated me into sex but had never been tremendously enthusiastic; I'd gotten the impression that she was mostly indulging me as a gift. Melissa, on the other hand, was just as voracious and insatiable as I was -- she loved sex and she wanted it often, and wasn't shy about showing it. Whenever we were together it was usually a tossup as to which one of us would jump the other one first.
Oh, what a playground we made of each others' bodies. We fucked in every room of our apartments. We made love for hours, entwined on her bed with raindrop shadows sliding down our bodies. We did it standing up leaning against her bookshelf. I bent her over the desk in her bedroom, enacting what I'd wanted to do so badly that first night. I took her in her kitchen with the kitchen blinds wide open, providing a free show to anyone who'd happened to walk by outside. We screwed on the couch, in chairs, on the floor, on the stairs, on a table. I'd stay inside her after coming until I went soft, then she'd start squeezing my cock with her pussy and pretty soon I'd be hard again, and we'd get right back into it without me ever having pulled out. We loved to do it in the shower, frequently staying in there and fucking for so long that we were more sweaty and messy when we got out than we had been when we got in. We played with toys, with lube, with food; I painted her with honey and licked it all off; she made me her own personal ice-cream sundae and licked THAT all off. I turned her into a Slip-and-Slide with a bottle of massage oil; what a mess THAT made, but we were past caring after we'd fucked each other into a slippery messy coma. We role-played: "teacher and student", "master and slave", "doctor and patient". She dressed up in naughty lingerie and delighted in the reaction it got from me. We read erotica together, making love in interludes or whenever we got too hot; we watched porn together, both laughing at it and getting turned on by the hotter scenes. She was always up for exploration, for trying new things, for new scenarios, dirty talk, new positions, phone sex, mutual masturbation, experimentation -- anything went, anytime.
She loved to be held down. She loved it when I pressed my full weight on her, when I pressed her hard against a wall or pinioned her by her wrists. She came so hard she almost exploded when I tied her up and had my way with her. She loved having her breasts fondled, her nipples sucked, and sucked hard; she could come just from me playing with and sucking on her nipples. She loved fucking for hours, sliding from position to position over and over and eating dinner in bed because we STILL couldn't keep our hands off each other. I still remember how we just lost control when we were together, tossing inhibitions out the window. I recall one time in particular when we had made so much noise that the cops came to my door, saying they'd been called because neighbors had thought someone was being murdered in here. I had to produce Melissa, dressed in just a bathrobe, before they got the idea. (I'd never seen a cop blush before.) We were always ready, always open; just a few seconds of caresses -- from either of us! and we'd be breathing hard and trying to restrain ourselves. Countless times we'd plan to go out for the evening and never make it out the door because we just couldn't keep our hands off each other. We spent a lot of time at my place or hers just walking around nude, because it saved time disrobing; after all, we never knew when the urge might strike next. I loved that she was completely unselfconscious about her body and loved to show it to me; she told me later that I was the first guy she'd felt that way around, and I felt a smug self-satisfaction.
Unfortunately, although Melissa and I were utterly perfect in bed (and out of bed, and anywhere else), we were not tremendously well-suited as romantic partners. We had a lot of things in common, but we had many other things that turned out to be personality conflicts, and eventually we split up. Oh, we kept giving it a try for several more years, on and off; one of us would call the other to say hi, and drop by for a visit, and usually they'd wind up spending the night because the smoldering physical attraction between us was always ready to burst into flame again. Sometimes we'd even agree to make another go of the relationship, but within a few months the old problems would crop up once more. And neither of us was the sort for completely casual sex, quite aside from the fact that we had so much emotionally invested in each other already that it could never really be casual again. We finally had our last fling about eight or nine years after I first met her -- she'd come to my place for a visit and, just like old times, had started fondling each other while watching a movie, and soon I was banging her from behind while she screamed for me to do it harder. I remember that she told me as she was leaving the next morning that this might be our last time for a while because she was going on a date next week. And oddly enough, I felt delighted for her.
Melissa is married now, to that same guy. He treats her like a queen and they are very much in love. I met him once and he seems like a really great guy. You get the impression that they are just perfect for each other -- interlocking puzzle pieces that fit just so, and can't be pulled apart without tremendous effort. They have the kind of marriage where they positively glow when they look at each other.
I wonder sometimes if we had that same glow when she was with me.
Thanks, Melissa. You taught to me that women can and do enjoy the hell out of sex, and helped me to be just as uninhibited about it as you. You are still one of the best lovers I've ever had.