Nostalgic Ramblings

It's funny, looking back, how deliberate the whole thing was, and hereby we replace the word "deliberate" with "slow." It's funny because today when I want a woman, we stand on her doorstep after the date, she invites me up or doesn't, and if she does we make out, get naked, have sex, then decide whether I'm spending the night or not, usually not. It's just as much a mad rush as the rest of my day, trying to fit fucking into my schedule between paying the bills and staying in touch with useless friends.

But that afternoon, the world stopped. No pressure, no clock ticking, just that single touch of our hands and the feeling of Melanie's head on my shoulder, and the certainty that more would be nice but this was enough. My heart beat faster but not thunderously fast; her breathing sped up, but only slightly. My palms didn't sweat, my mouth didn't go dry. We just sat like that for a few minutes and felt relieved.

And then, ah yes, and then. Then I turned my head. I didn't move another single body part, but she felt me looking at her. She turned her head upward but couldn't look at me. Really, we weren't trying to look, but to connect our lips. I could call it telepathy, some shared thought that we both knew what the other wanted to happen, but it felt more like magnatism. My mouth moved toward hers, and hers toward mine. Not a conscious thought, but rather, a physical force, just the natural world following its laws, bringing our faces into contact. Still so slow, so deliberate, until at last, her neck was craning upward a bit awkwardly, and mine craned downward, and we kissed.

Our mouths met, and her lips felt so soft. The further we went, the more relief I seemed to feel, but there hadn't been any anxiety, so why the relief? Things were just working out -- what other word could fit? It was happening, it was really happening.

That first kiss lasted a long time, and in many ways, nothing that followed could top it. The journey of a thousand orgasms begins with one kiss, and the first kiss is the hardest, and it was happening and happening well, and that meant the journey had begun. I didn't dare open my eyes, or move at all, or touch her. I simply kissed her, and she me, and it felt great.

Meanwhile, Sting garbled and played his guitar until the song played out. Then, the last song on the album started, "When The Angels Fall." Do you know it? Haunting synthesizers played way too slow, a guitar with a light touch, and Sting singing lyrics about angels watching us dream. The verses are in a dreamy little major key, the chorus is in a minor key, and the final bridge is a bit more grand but still methodically paced and ethereal. The song ends in a sort of long, decrecendo play-out, as though some child is going to sleep. It's a very romantic song, the perfect makeout music. By the time the song ended and the tape stopped, the damage was done, and the rest of the Melanie story occured without a soundtrack. That song is truly the capstone of the memory.

I didn't plan it this way, you realize. That's what makes it so perfect, that's what makes the memory so vivid in my mind. Here I was, making out with a beautiful girl while this seductive music created a romantic atmosphere, and I didn't even have to deal with the guilt of orchestrating it that way. And it worked, god did it work. She touched my face, and I touched hers, and the song carried us along like a slow boat on the lake, further onto each other's bodies.

We kissed and kissed and kissed. Her mouth was hot and wet, her hands so greedy yet so giving. I felt her rubbing her palms against my chest, up and down my arms, even across my legs. As long as we both kept our clothes on, we could pretty much touch anywhere we wanted. To put it accurately, we lingered at first base for a long time. I wanted to kiss her cheeks, so I did. I wanted to lick the inside of her ear, and I did. She liked that a lot. In fact, second base started right about there (the spirit of second base, you see, not the actual fondling). She started twisting and humming as I lapped at her ears and neck with my tongue. I didn't think about how messy I was making her face, I just kept licking her, massaging her with my lips, nibbling her flesh. To my pleasant surprise, she wanted to do the same thing to me. She kissed my face all over, breathed her hot breath on me. You might wonder what's so sexy about getting your nose and eyes kissed by a girl, and I'll tell you -- it means you're completely at her mercy, and she knows it, because you can't kiss her, you can only breathe and be patient and enjoy the moment.

Remember how I described her sitting up beside me? I leaned down and kissed her, and she had to look up. As the kissing proceeded, I gently laid her down on the bed, laid half on top of her, and reached my arm underneath her so she felt my hand on her back. But we moved around a lot. Sometimes we were side-by-side, sometimes she was on top. I remember one moment when Melanie was on top, I decided I wanted to kiss further down her neck. She had on that golf shirt, and somehow I unbuttoned the collar as far as it would go, and I kissed across her shoulder blades, on top of her shoulders, down to the top of her cleavage.

I have to laugh at this point, remembering how I kissed her chest as far as her shirt would allow. First base, remember? She'd had sex before and so had I, but we were both good Christian kids and old friends, and even if we hadn't been, I was too much of a gentleman to think I could just tear her clothes off without permission. What if we were meant to date, but I pushed her into sex and she decided I wasn't the right boy for her, and she left feeling embarrassed right in the middle of our kissing? You laugh too, because you're a sex fiend like me here on the other side of adolescence, and you don't have any problem with loving-and-leaving, and neither do I. But don't you remember how different it was back then? You weren't looking for sex, you were looking for a (all-caps, now) BOYFRIEND or a GIRLFRIEND. Wouldn't it be better to have sex with -- ahem -- "someone you loved?" I wasn't thinking rationally about the facts of me and Melanie dating, because if I had, I've have remembered that she was in college far away and we weren't likely to last. But there I was, kissing her chest as far as her golf shirt would allow, thinking I didn't want to rush her if it meant she'd stop "dating" me. Like I said, I have to laugh.

After the music stopped, I guess we'd been kissing for about ten minutes. Then, it happened. BAM, the magic. Do you know what I'm talking about? Can you guess? It was the moment she was on top of me, and her legs opened, and she sat spread eagle on top of my hard cock.

Yeah, NOW you know what I mean. Here, hold on just a second while I explain it to the novices in the room. You see kids, making out with a pretty girl is a great thing unto itself, but that's the kind of stuff Amish kids are allowed to do with a chaperone in the room and a board between their lower bodies. But baby, as soon as your genitals connect through the clothes, you've arrived at a new place in the physicality. Deep down, hidden from your senses, your body has been building heat like a furnace while your hands and lips play their amateur games, but once you feel your cock rubbing the girl through her pants, your senses sit up and say, "Wait a minute, what the fuck is happening down there? I didn't authorize this!" Too late, constable, too late. Second base is just around the corner.

And it was. Melanie's tongue probed deeper down my throat as her crotch rubbed against mine. For the first time I put my hands on her ass, marginally curious to see if she'd protest, shocked to find that she didn't, at which point I grabbed two handfuls of ass with gusto. The way we moved and rocked, you'd think we hadn't been aware of our own bodies before that point. Her thighs were hot against mine, her hands gripped my shoulders like clamps. The real sign that things were about to get raunchy was that her mouth, while still open and dripping into mine, had stopped moving. Her hips, however, had not. She was genuinely getting off.

Ex and I had been here many times, you realize, and each time the action had progressed to its logical conclusion, nakedness followed by orgasms. But even at this moment, I wasn't about to impose on Melanie. If the furthest we went was cumming in our pants, well shit, that would be downright fantastic. We could even pretend afterwards that we hadn't gone as far as we both knew we had.

Regardless of everything I'm telling you about my propriety and chivalry, I was the first one to untuck a shirt. I can even remember telling myself, Hey, I just want to feel the skin on her back, what's wrong with that. Ha! I wanted access to those magnificent boobies, that's what I wanted. I'd say she was about 24B, just the right size for a handful. She sure as hell tightened out that golf shirt.

Why do I keep using that terminology, about how I would've been content with any stopping point? Because it's literally true. You see, I kept my expectations in check. She was only the second girl I'd ever honestly made-out with (or heavily petted, for that matter). I had to prepare my brain for the possibility that this could END at any moment.

So of course, I was thrilled beyond words when she reached down and untucked my shirt as well, without lifting her crotch from mine. Even though she kept her torso leaned horizontally above me so we could kiss, she was able to move her hands up between us and run her palms over my naked chest. My shirt rose high as her arms played with me, until it hiked up over my nipples. That was all the cue I needed to try and do the same to her. I could have worked my hands up her back without lifting her shirt, but by pulling my forearms outward, lifting her shirt was exactly what I did. Within only a matter of minutes, her bra was pressed against my bare chest, with our shirts lifted up around our necks.

My hands wandered up and down Melanie's back, over her bra straps, down her ribs, up to her shoulders. Still we kissed passionately and wetly, still we ground our genitals together through the terribly hot underpants and shorts. At last I moved my hands to the sides of her breasts, and her mouth froze on my neck. As I moved my palms underneath, softly cupping her fabric-covered mounds in my hands, she gasped once, twice, three times. When she moved up to kiss my mouth again, it was with intensity. Our tongues licked furiously. I squeezed her tenderly but with intent, truely fondling her tits.

As I write this, I begin to see how much control I had over the situation. I was the first to hold her hand, I was the first to lean in for the kiss, I was the one who untucked her shirt... and I was the one who unsnapped her bra. To be fair, she came to my house. Oh yeah, and she straddled me so she could ride my hard cock through my pants. Well anyway, it was pretty mutual, but I'm not going to go on with anymore of this "I was so chivalrous" bullshit. I wanted her in a bad way, and that made me do things I didn't know I was capable of doing.

This was only my second girl to de-bra, but I'd unsnapped Ex's bra hundreds of times, so it wasn't rocket science. And just like that, we were at second base. Reading it on the page, it seems to you like it took a while, but nothing could have moved faster. Don't think I'm contradicting myself, the whole thing was still very deliberate, even slow by current standards, but we didn't really stall at any of the points where we needed to keep things moving along, we just barreled through them.

My fingers unhooked her bra -- and, well, yeah, I was a little nervous that I'd crossed a line; I held my breath a second in anticipation of her sitting up and saying, "Wait, wait, this is too fast." But instead, she kissed me faster, deeper. I moved my hands around and under, slid my fingers inside her bra cups, lifted the material up, and felt her naked breasts. Even the crotch-grinding came to a pause as we savored this moment. She hyperventilated into my open mouth as I felt her boobs, really FELT them. I fondled that girl so tenderly, reverently, like her experiencing flesh was a sacred ritual to perform through the sense of touch. Her nipples were swollen like thick stones and yet felt soft between my gently pinching fingers.

Melanie apparently couldn't stand the waiting any longer, because she pulled her own shirt and bra up over her head with one swift yank. I saw her, sitting on top of me, naked from the waist up. Breathtaking, even now so many years after, literally breathtaking. I saw her, the tight lines of her toned stomach and upper arms, the minute jiggle of her moderate breasts, the definition of her neck and shoulders, and most of all, the dark pink of her nipples. And hovering above it all her face, her beautiful face, famed by her blonde hair like a halo, pulled flat against her skull by the pony tail band. She didn't smile at me, nor did she frown. Her countenance presented no human thought of any kind. She was pure desire, a mammal in heat reviewing her mate beneath her, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. I wonder if she saw the same look in my eyes.

I wanted to remove my own shirt, difficult as it was with her on top of me. Once I started to pull, she helped me out of it. Next, I wanted to suck those nipples. I braced myself up with my elbows, reached around her back with one arm, grabbed her left boob with the other hand, aimed her nipple at my mouth as I sat up. The breasts entered my mouth, and Melanie dug her hands into my thick black hair, pressing me tight against her chest. I sucked and sucked, feeling her writhe in my arms, knowing she needed me to relent but knowing also I could not. I fondled and pinched the other breast with the right hand, supporting myself with the left.

Can you believe she still had her shoes and socks on? After I laid her on her back, I placed my body down on hers again, as we mugged our mouths together as our naked chests pressed once more together. I felt her shuffling below as she kicked off her shoes and pulled her socks off with her toes. When the bottoms of her feet slapped against my calf muscles, something electric hit me.

Melanie's legs spread open again, and I placed my crotch firmly against hers. Any illusions we'd enjoyed before were now shattered; this was sex without the intercourse. Every part of our bodies where flesh could be seen was pressed together, still not sweaty but definitely warm, and growing hotter by the second. And always the kissing, that deep throat kissing, the most intimate part of the encounter. Can you explain to someone who's never kissed someone whom they want badly what it feels like, what it means? Take it a step further -- imagine having sex, cock and pussy slapping together, fluids flowing, bodies crashing. Now add french kissing to the mix. It kicks it up a level, doesn't it? How can kissing make the most extreme act, sex, more than it is? And how can kissing add a level of depth to every preceeding level as well, even though it's the first act itself, the simplest, the thing you have to get through to get to the rest? There's no way to put it in words, but when I remember grinding Melanie and fondling her naked chest and feeling all my flesh against hers, it's still the kissing that provides the key to the entire memory. She tasted good, not like any specific flavor, just the way a girl's mouth is supposed to taste.

When Melanie reached down between our crotches and felt my cock through my shorts, it was a real showstopper. My eyes shot open and I froze, which made her eyes open also. Then she closed her eyes and started kissing me harder, as though to say, Don't think about it. She used both hands to unbutton and unzip me. She felt my penis against the white briefs I wore. Her hands grabbed me hard, caressed me through the fabric. My shorts slipped further and further until they were below the underwear. Then she reached inside and took hold of my penis.

The sensation of her hand on my cock, the fingers wrapping around me, untangling my pubic hair which was steamy and bunched up from the rubbing... even the memory fills me with a great sense of satisfaction. It felt so good! Is that trite-sounding? Could I say it more poetically? Fuck, it was just great! She kept pumping me, over and over. I had the sense that she was really enjoying feeling me; she took her time, exploring me with her palm and her fingers.

I leaned down and licked her neck again, an act I knew turned her on wildly. Simultaneously, I moved my own hand down to Melanie's plaid shorts, so tight around her curvy hips, and I unfastened her as she had me. My hand slipped directly down the front of her panties, and I felt her tender hair as hot and tangled as mine had been, although her pubic hair was much less thick than mine, softer, finer. My fingers kept working their way down, down, until my middle finger felt it -- burning hot wetness. Her hand that wasn't on my cock reached around my waist and grabbed hard; she had to brace herself. I did not penetrate her with my finger, but I did move my entire hand up and down her labia lips and the lines of her pelvis with eagerness. Sometimes my fingertip would find her clitoris, and at those moments, I felt her fingernails dug into my back. I loved that, and how her other hand would squeeze my cock a little too hard.

At last it was time to be naked together. I used one hand to push my shorts and underwear as far down my legs as they would go. Melanie used her feet to pull them down the rest of the way, and just like that, I was naked above her, with my cock throbbing thick in her hand. She lifted her hips and pushed her own shorts down, and I helped remove them from her legs, and just like that, she was naked below me, with my hand pressing full against her loins.

Melanie spread her legs wider and wrapped both her arms around my neck. I set my cock flat against her pussy and braced myself above her. We kissed, and I'm telling you, that was one wonderful kiss. Are you starting to understand the importance of anticipation to the success of the endeavor? I'm not talking about teasing, which is something girls often do in the absence of real anticipation; she'll lick your cock without sucking it, or drip candle wax on your nipple or some shit, or dance in front of you even though she can't dance. True anticipation comes from ignorance of what's about to happen, occurring only under those circumstances where sex isn't a foregone conclusion, and sweetheart, you're reading about that cirmustance right now. Well, you were. By this point, it's a foregone conclusion.

We started rubbing against each other again, and if rubbing through our pants was fun, then rubbing naked was downright exhilarating. Sex is wonderful, but feeling the girl from the outside like that, it's nothing but pure friction, coupled with the idea that you're getting away with something. And girls, you know it's even better for you. Sex means penetration, and it can be a lot of work, but having your clit hit full on by a boy's dickhead for a few minutes is as sweet as an ellicit drug. And not many folks know this, and I sure as hell didn't that day back in '92, but it's such a fantastic precursor to sex for the girl, the way it gets all the juices flowing and the pussy lips open. Take the time to rub and roll like this, and you'll find the following penetration is a lot smoother.

And well, what can I say, for Melanie and I, it was damn smooth. I looked her in the eyes, and she looked back at me. She sucked her bottom lip as she aimed my cock head into her pussy hole. I moved forward, slipping between the folds of her. You must think I'm was an indecisive loon when I tell you this was my favorite moment, after all the favorite moments I already described, but trust me, although some of those other moments were the best part of my afternoon with Melanie, the entering of the penis head into the wet pussy lips is my favorite moment of EVERY sex encounter, period. Not only is that the time when, magically, "the waiting is over," it's also the last truly perfect moment in the sex until the orgasm hits. So many things happen at once -- the cream her lips hold back is released (either a little or a lot), her vagina softly grips the cock and pulls it like a vaccum deep inside, and both of you feel your entire bodies relax in the most delicious way.