Only the good die young

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March 5, 2012 by E.

Most people in relationships cherish the memory of their first date.  They’ll remember where they went for dinner, what wine they drank, whether or not it was love at first sight.  They experience the sentimental occasions before they move on to the physical events.

In my case, the order of things was slightly reversed.  My first encounters with A. were anything but traditional dinner dates; for us, there was friendship, sex, and then love.  Therefore my earliest cherished memories don’t involve being courted, but rather, being seduced.

What I remember most about our first hook-up sessions were how good we tried to be.  Neither of us began our spiral of flirtation with the idea that he would ever cheat on his girlfriend.  I repeatedly told myself that A. was a good person, and a friend; the physical rewards would not be worth the emotional consequences.  I needed to keep my hands off.

But we couldn’t.  We tried, but not hard enough.  Initially, the rule was “no kissing”.  It wasn’t cheating if we nuzzled on the couch.  It wasn’t cheating if he caressed the small of my back.  It wasn’t cheating if we sent suggestive, playful texts.

That rule lasted for 3 days, I believe.  Next we tried “no sex”.  Of course we both knew it was cheating, all of it, without question.  But we each put up silly, inconsequential barriers to assuage our consciences and protect our hearts.

The second rule lasted for longer; at least a week.  During that time, A. received his first blow job from me.  That is what I remember, what I will jokingly call our “second date”.  It wasn’t a date at all, but it was certainly just as memorable.

It was early January.  Neither my roommate nor his girlfriend has returned to town from winter break yet (our master’s program resumed classes a week earlier than everyone else), so we had a little more leeway.  We decided he would come over one afternoon; I’m not sure what excuse he gave to his roommate.  It was very much a planned event, and I don’t know who was more nervous.

What we were doing was a big step, on multiple levels, and that only added to the pressure.  I was worried that if I performed poorly, he would regret his decision to cheat on his girlfriend, and take out that regret on our friendship.  I wondered if things would get awkward.  I considered that this very well could be a one-time thing, that I might be played for a fool.  I figured that perhaps he would tell me he’d received better head elsewhere, from some other girl.

I was damned if I would let that happen.  Any of it.  But especially the part about him getting better head elsewhere.  Yes, I am slightly competitive.

As soon as I took off his jeans, I knew I was in trouble.  My Plan A (deep throat as much as possible), immediately went out the window.  I would have choked myself, and that would have been horribly embarrassing.  Into action came Plan B – put his balls in my mouth, while using my hand on his dick.  I’d never tried it before, but I had read it in a Cosmo article somewhere (not like I’d been Googling “how to give the best blow job” or anything), and the idea sounded solid.

Needless to say, my combination of Plan B with some of Plan A (I think I gagged a few times and had to cover it up with a groan), was a success.  Both of us regret the circumstances under which we began our relationship, but neither of us is willing to apologize for it.  We agree that it was a horrible thing for us to do, but we still treasure the memories of our first “dates”.

After all, I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.

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