My first submission—a letter to my boyfriend describing our first meeting and the first time we made love. All of this is a memory, and I wrote it as to not forget the small details. Losing my virginity was so perfect and powerful, I had to write it down. I hope you enjoy the moments that brought my boyfriend and me together after months of living apart.
We met entirely by chance, in an anonymous video game where most hide behind their characters. One sarcastic quip from you and I had found a new friend, a friend with whom I could talk about anything. Love, humor, and sex filled our heated conversations, and two weeks after we began talking I you admitted that you loved me. I had never been loved by a man before. I'd dreamed about it, fooled around with several boys that year, but never felt a connection. With us, it was immediate.
We fell hard and fast, with several hundred miles between us and a computer screen to spill our darkest secrets and desires. Your biggest desire was me, and my biggest desire was you. We moved fast paced through our summer romance, sending heartfelt messages back and forth throughout the day, progressing to hours playing video games together. Finally, I sent my first nude photo to you. You loved my body, told me how beautiful I was, told me you wanted to lick and suck and bite my collarbones, to mark my creamy skin with your brand, to take me as your own.
I was a virgin, had only ever given blowjobs to two boys in high school who didn't treat me the way I wanted. You wanted to worship my pussy, to make me cum with the fires of a thousand burning legions. I wanted to touch you, to make you feel like none of your past girlfriends or even your ex-fiancée could. I wanted to touch your cock and feel it jump at my touch, to take it inside me to a place no man had ever gone before, to open myself at last to the first and only man who would ever take me.
You were seven years older; far more experienced than I, and knew your tastes. I only knew that I hated French kissing high school boys and had never felt anything from a kiss before. I thought I could never be turned on by a kiss, and I desperately wanted you to make me feel something for the first time. I wanted you to be my one and only.
We started having phone sex, and masturbating on camera for each other. You made me so horny. Whenever I even heard the timbre of you sexy, velvety voice I melted. The first time I masturbated on camera you told me to just show you my face. When I came, you told me that you could get off just on watching me cum. I told you I didn't want that. I wanted you to make me cum over and over again. The one guy who had ever tried to make me cum failed, but I had faith that you could do it. I wanted you more than ever, and I couldn't have you because you were so far away.
I left for college in August, a little closer to you than I had been for so long. We knew about a break at the end of August, in which every other girl on my floor would be gone home for the weekend. We planned to meet in person for the very first time, and I told you that that was the day I wanted to give you my virginity. You were surprised, but pleased, and asked me repeatedly if I really wanted to take that step. I responded that I wanted to take that leap and finally make love to you the way we always talked about. You agreed to come up on the August break.
I wanted to remember my first time, so a bunch of girlfriends and I went to Victoria's Secret to find the perfect deflowering outfit. My lesbian friend Andie came along, and when I tried on a pale pink babydoll G-string set, she nearly passed out. I had always turned her on with my long, fire-engine red hair, green eyes, pure white skin, and round hips and ass that twitched a little too much when I walked because I, like most girls with a big ass, like people to know about it. It's always been a mystery to me why you, as a guy who doesn't really care for a big ass, ended up with me, but we did bond on an emotional level even before we knew what each other looked like. I purchased the set, even though I knew I'd only wear it for five minutes tops. When I got you alone, I would have you plunge your cock into me and fuck me senseless until at least one of us came.
Finally, the day came. You drove through the night to meet me for the first time. You got into town around 5 AM. I walked down the dark city streets, still lit by lamps. I didn't know where you were. In retrospect, this was pretty dumb of me. You could have killed me and know one would have a clue what happened. But I had a blind trust in you, a complete dependence and love for you that held no bounds. I had no fear when the thought of you accompanied me. You are my light, my life, my world—and then I saw you walking toward me.
Your long hair flowed behind you, glinting slightly red in the lamplight. It was still a little foggy, and a part of me noted the likeness to Mr. Darcy coming to Lizzie Bennett on the English moors. We came into closer view of each other, and your eyes lit up, those beautiful grey eyes that hold so many secrets and emotions, and all of a sudden you wrapped me in those strong arms and whispered, "You're even more beautiful in person."
We headed to your car and drove to my dorm. We walked hand and hand as much as we could, made difficult by the bulky desktop computer you just had to bring with you—as if I'd let you stop fucking long enough to play video games. We walked up to my room, and collapsed into the bed, exhausted from waiting to see each other. Getting to know each other's bodies would wait. We needed to nap.
We woke up about four hours later, snuggled tightly to each other. It was the first time I had ever spooned anyone, and it felt so warm and cozy and gentle. I was even more smitten with you, words you said to me the first week we talked. I was so horny. Was now the time for you to fuck me? You laughed. "I haven't even kissed you yet, Julia."
"Well, I've never been one for doing things in order," I replied.
"Besides," you said, "I'm not going to fuck you." I squeaked, and you laughed at the disappointment written on my face. "You're adorable when you're disappointed," you crooned. "No, babe. I'm not going to fuck you. I'm going to make love to you." And with that, you kissed me.
Now, this kiss was unlike any other kiss I had ever known. This kiss burned straight from my mouth down to my pussy. I gasped from the belly-lurching kiss and you entered my mouth with your tongue, tenderly twirling around my tongue with yours, sparking a dance that burned even more than our mouths simply touching. I responded eagerly, but you drew away.
"You're pushing back too hard. Too urgent. We have all the time in the world for a kiss." And at the word "kiss," you dove back in, gentle, slow, and emotional, pouring in every ounce of feeling he had into that one touch. I have learned in our relationship that you don't pull out this kiss on anything less than a momentous occasion, like our first weekend together, Valentine's Day, and when I bought you Mugen Souls Z for our one year anniversary. That kiss compared to other kisses is the difference between Dove and Hershey's chocolate—I'll take all I can get, but the Dove is an orgasm in my mouth. On that day, I learned to love French kissing.
