Sometimes I wonder if, what if I had known about you before. What if I knew, when I was young, that you were what I needed. I think I would have come for you when I was 16. Just had my first sampling of real sex, but still a virgin. Short, wavy blond hair, very slender, about 96 pounds – small breasts. I would have left home to find you. You would have been what, 21? 22? In college or not? I would have looked for you; it's spring of '86. I may come upon you with your lover, perhaps on your bed. You have left your door unlocked. I know I am meant for you so I walk in. Seeing you and your lover on the bed I stop to watch. This is what I want to learn and I want you to teach me – be the first. Your woman is unaware I am there – you suddenly look up, there I am and you know. You know who I am, why I'm there, and you can't wait. As you look at me over your lover's head, you begin to slow down, take your time. You start to work her in a new way. She moans her approval but you still watch me.
I watch her…. I can see that she knows what you want, what you like. I would be her to know you so well! I try to learn the way she moves her hips, to grind against you, thrusting her breasts into your chest. Your hair hangs down around her face, and you take your eyes away from me to give her a long, deep kiss as you move inside her. I'm dizzy just from looking, but soon…it is more that you want. You move harder, rougher, making her gasp – as you drive into her you look up at me again, your sharp intake of breath and bright eyes make me realize that you are so close. You place your left hand next to her head and slide your right underneath her ass, you lift her abdomen up to you and thrust into her, groaning as you shoot into her, violently crashing against her as she cries out in sweet pleasure. And she loves it. And I envy her.
You lay her down and lean close and whisper to her – I cannot hear. She reaches for your hair, tangling her fingers while you lay with her, until finally she sleeps. You carefully get off the bed and approach me. I am sitting on a chair. Unashamed of your nakedness, your glistening cock, you hold out your hand. I take it and you lead me to the bathroom. You turn and lock the door from the inside. You turn on the water for a hot shower and step in, leaving me to my own decision. Wasting no time I undress and follow. You gaze at me; do you wonder who I am? Or are you so sure?
The water streams down your back, your hair clicked to you, you pull me under the water with you and slowly, you kiss me…your lips wet, warm, and so soft. I put my hands on your chest, such soft skin. I touch your throat, my mouth giving in to yours as I explore you. Your hands, one on the back of my head, cradling it while the other covers on of my aching breasts, squeezing, releasing. I can feel your urgency against my hip, hard, running up to my belly. I move from side to side to feel it move along me, press my weight into you, it. You finally break the kiss and reaching for the soap you begin to lather my arms, my shoulders – turning me around you soap my back and then your hands slide to the front of me. I'm slippery and you tease my breasts, my nipples, god…I've never been touched like this. You work your hands down my belly, my hipbones, there. Yes, you are washing me, slipping your fingers into my wetness, opening me to the water. I'm falling against you, I can't stand. You bring me under the water to rinse me and then you turn the water off. Sudden cold.
