On a personal note. I have never had the privilege of being a women's, a ladies first. When I write about this privilege in my stories. I try to portray how I would have made every effort, to have that very special time and moment be incredible for her, as well as for myself.
Just being gentle, kind, caring and understanding is not enough. This is a once in a life time experience for both. Although, I can only imagine there is not much discomfort for the man. She will be giving her emotions, her deepest self, and her blood so completely to you. Her blood may wash off, but the memory of it should always remain in a man's mind every time he sees her or thinks about her. That very blood should seal that memory and that connection to her.
I have always tried to be a gentile, careful and an unselfish giving lover. Giving is always better than receiving, it truly is. Feeling that joy and excitement of an incredible first great kiss. The feeling of your lover trembling in sheer delight as you hold her close. What could be better?
I have done many things in my life. Some would say, I have lived four, five or maybe even six lifetimes in my sixty some years. Those experiences for the most part have been satisfying.
The disappointments with the partners I have involved myself with have been many. Through all of these years, never having found her, more commonly referred to as "the one." The one that changes everything just by her very presence. She is more than a sunrise and more beautiful in her own way than the setting sun. She is graceful, yet naughty. She is playful, yet always a lady with just a hint of devil in her very soul.
But without exception, my greatest regret in life, is not having met her. Gaze into her eyes, hold her hand, hug her like no one ever has and yes, the privilege of being her first lover.
So what about those who have been the first for so many women? How many women don't remember their first time fondly? Only to have it turn into regret as the years pass.
If the locker room, Bar and party conversations are any indication of the often crude nature of things. How about those fools recounting "TAKING HER," bragging about how it only took five minutes. Or the worst I heard once "I RANG HER BELL" it's time to move on. That was at a Catholic school dance.
Makes you wonder about if they ever gave a moment's thought about their mothers. Did someone ring his mother's bell? Are some men or would it be better to call them boys so insensitive, to just not care. Is she just a socket you plug in and when done discard.