Our Song Ch. 01: Song

"Well, of-course."

"Well, when I was a teenager, they started telling me when they were going to have sex."

"That sounds troubling," I said in a worried voice.

"Not really," she said. "They were never graphic about it. They didn't say 'now daddy is going to put his dick into mommy's pussy' or stuff like that. They weren't getting off on me knowing what they are doing or anything. They just weren't covering up the truth with euphemisms like 'taking a nap'."

"And how did you feel about it?"

"That's the only way I knew it... It came as a surprise to me that other kids didn't have parents like that."

"And now, how do you feel about it?"

"I feel that made me who I am today. For good and bad. Treating sex like any other part of life made me stronger and more independent, I think."

"Did you start having sex early because of that?" I asked, not sure if I haven't stepped out of the boundaries of what I'm supposed to ask on a first date.

"No. I haven't had sex until the first year of collage. I have a weird feeling my parents were slightly disappointed at me that I left home a virgin."

She stopped talking for a short while, her eyes gazing at nothing, as she went on this short trip down memory lane. Then she continued:

"I did masturbate a lot," she said, smiling at me. "My parents bought me a book, believe it or not, about female masturbation techniques, for my sixteenth birthday!"

"Wow," I said.

"Yeh. Well, I did love that book... I still have it... I'll show it to you one day..."

I smiled at her, trying to imagine her with that book, trying out new techniques.

She told me she always dreamed to become a doctor — ever since elementary school. She worked hard towards this goal all through high-school, and when she finally got accepted to pre-med at Yale, she was thrilled. Her parents were happy for her, but sad she had to move all the way to the east coast. Seven years later, she graduated medical school there, with honors. She told me she was a third-year resident, specializing in internal medicine, and looking forward to a gastroenterology fellowship.

"Wow, that's a long path," I noted. "Are you enjoying it?"

There was a moment of silence, as I noted, by the look on Song's eyes, I have hit a nerve.

"Well, 'enjoying' is not a proper word for it," she said, with caution. "Internal medicine is tough, and not for the right reasons. Most of my patients are elderly, often with chronic or terminal conditions. We fix them a little bit, just enough to get them out of the hospital, but not enough to get them well. Any decent medical insurance would cover live extending treatment, but not every insurance would cover what it takes to make this live more bearable. Not that a solution always exists even if their insurance would pay..."

Her eyes looked sad as she spoke. All of the sudden, I started feeling sorry for her. I caressed her hand, which laid on the table.

"I'm sorry it is so," I said quietly.

"Well, you shouldn't feel sorry for me," she said. "This is what I signed up to do. Many folks want to become doctors for the money. I didn't. You don't think about money when you're ten years old. I wanted to become a doctor for these old men and women. My parents felt their way to make the world a better place was to protest against war and corruption, and to grow sustainable foods. I feel my way to make the world a better place is to help one patient at a time. The problem is, I'm not sure I'm doing that..."

"Knowing you the little I do, I know you are kind to your patients, and sometimes that's all you need to make a difference."

"Thanks for the confidence," she said, and brought my hand to her lips for a small kiss, "but I'm not sure this is true. I started this job with a lot of passion, but I feel I'm losing this passion with every shift.

"Actually, sex is the only thing that really helps me with that."

"Really? Sex?" I asked in surprise.

"Yes. When I'm having sex, I don't think about the patients. I don't re-live the suffering and death that surround me. I just close my eyes and enjoy the moment. This gives me energy to move on, to another shift, and more patients."

"I'm sorry it is so for you."

"You don't have to be sorry," she told me, her blue eyes looking right at me, smiling. "You just have to fuck me when I need you to."

"I promise to fuck you when you need me to," I said, and kissed her hand.

"What about you?" she inquired after a minute of silence. "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a software engineer at a startup," I replied.

"Oh, that means you work crazy hours and make piles of money?"

"Well, I would say that's an overstatement, but I do not complain. The money is good and the hours are reasonable."

"I'm glad," she said.

"I'm not saving the world like you do, though..."

"Not everyone has to," she said, smiling softly at me, kissing my hand.

We continued talking about my family, our exes, and other standard "first-date" stuff. Then we asked for the bill and I paid. Song wanted to split it, saying: "I'll put out for you anyways, you know...". I smiled and paid anyways.

Then she asked me where I wanted to continue our date. I suggested my apartment, and she concurred. We drove there, mostly in silence. I don't know what she was thinking about, but I was thinking about how much I was in awe of her, thinking about the long path she took, all in order to try to make the lives of some people a little more bearable.

Then I realized something else. With my previous girlfriends, I always had to guess what they felt, or thought. Sometimes they would torture me, making me figure out for myself how I have wronged them. Song, in contrast, felt like an open book. She was what we, computer nerds, call "what you see is what you get". In that cafe she confided in me with things other people would probably only tell their therapist, or priest, or rarely their spouse. She has known me for two days, we only met twice, and she already let me into her world. I felt I could tell her anything. I felt I wanted to tell here everything. I was deeply in love with her.

==================

We finally got to my apartment. As we got in, Song dropped her sandals, and started undoing her blouse.

"Wait," I told her, "do you want to drink something first?"

"Drink something?" she laughed. "We just got back from a cafe!"

I knew my reaction was stupid, but I felt the connection we just made was way stronger than sex, and somehow I felt getting on with sex too fast may spoil it.

"I want us to take it slow tonight," I asked her.

"Is everything alright?" she asked me with a worried voice.

"Yes, great actually," I assured her. "I just feel we made a great connection, and I don't want spoil it by getting into bed too early."

She was standing about a foot away from me. She closed the gap with one step and hugged me warmly. I hugged her back. We stood there, just hugging, for a few minutes.

I wanted to tell her how I felt about her, but felt this was not a good idea. I didn't want to scare her away. So I just hugged her in silence. She was facing away from me, as her cheek laid on my chest. I leaned back a little so I can see her face, and saw tears in her eyes. I caressed her other cheek, and brought her face close to mine. Then I brought my lips to hers and kissed her softly. She kissed me back, passionately. We kissed for a few good minutes, before she said:

"I love you, Owen. I really do."

"I love you too," I told her, and hugged her tightly.

After another minute or so of soft, sweet kisses, she asked me:

"My legs are killing me. Would it be OK if we went to your bed?"

Without an answer, I took her by the hand, and led her to my bedroom. We sat on the edge of the bed and went on kissing. Then we laid back and kissed some more.

"Would it be OK if I took off my blouse now?" she asked me.

I did not answer. I just helped her undo the remaining buttons. She sat up in order to take it off. I sat up and caressed her on her exposed neck and shoulders.

She wore a small, blue bra, that was just big enough to hold her small breasts. The tears in her eyes were gone now, and were replaced by a kind, candid smile.

"Do you want me to remove my bra?" she asked softly. "Do you want to see my tits?"

"I do," I told her, between kisses.

She reached back and undid her bra. I watched as she revealed her small, but yet, perfectly-built breasts. They were so small that I could almost cover them with my palms. Her nipples were small and pink, mounted in two small, perfectly round and very bright areolas.

"Do you like them?" she asked me, while caressing my face.

"Very much," I said, and lowered my hand to caress them.

She grabbed my shirt and started lifting it. I helped her, and removed it. She moved her palms on my chest, playing with my chest-hair with her fingers.

"Do you like my chest?" I asked.

"Very much," she answered.

Then she laid back, and invited me to lean over her. I did so, and we kissed. Then she took my head and gently lowered it, so I would kiss her neck, and then her chest, and finally — her breasts. I started kissing around each nipple, and then, started kissing and licking the nipples themselves. As I was kissing and licking them, I felt them hardening and erecting. They were not the only things I felt erecting...

"Bite me," she asked. "bite my nipples."

I wanted to do as she asked me, but didn't want to hurt her. I put one nipple in my mouth and gently closed my teeth around it.

"Harder," she asked softly. "You can bite me harder."

I did, and heard her moaning. I didn't know if it was pain, or joy, or both, but she said:

"That's great! Now the other one?"

I moved to her other nipple, and bit it softly, trying to apply the same force I did to the first one. She moaned again, and told me I was doing this right.

Then she grabbed my head and moved it further down her body. I started kissing her belly and reached the button on her jeans.

"Open it," she asked me. "I have a surprise for you inside."

I figured she was talking about 'surprise' in the sense of a present — something you give someone else to surprise them. I figured she referred to her vagina. I unbuckled the button on her jeans, and unzipped it.

"Take it down with my panties," she asked. "I want you to see your surprise!"

I understood there was more to this "surprise" than I originally thought. She picked my curiosity, so I grabbed her panties and jeans with my two hands, and relieved her of them, kissing her along one of her legs as I rolled them down. When I went back to my position next to her crotch I saw the surprise she promised me.

"Earlier today," she explained, "as I was getting ready for our date, I shaved my pussy in the shower, as I normally do. However, today I was probably day-dreaming about our date, and about having your cute dick inside my pussy, that I accidentally shaved it completely."

Indeed, her pussy was totally shaved. No one pubic hair could be found anywhere. Her pink vagina was peeking from inside her white labia.

"You're so beautiful!," I said amazed.

"I'm happy you like your surprise," she replied cheerfully.

I kissed her on the labia, and then she opened her legs. I didn't need her to ask, and positioned myself between them. I found her clitoris very quickly, and started licking it. Then I started moving my finger along her labia, feeling if she was wet enough. She was. Then I pushed my index finger into her, and started moving it in and out, pressing mainly on the front wall, as she taught me. Her breathing became gradually more vocal. I continued as she cried:

"Owen! My pussy loves you! You're fucking it so good!"

Her words aroused me, but probably aroused her more, as she came with a powerful orgasm, just seconds afterwards.

I laid besides her. This time these were my sheets, and I couldn't care less about them getting wet with her juices. On the contrary, I wanted them to have her smell, so that I would smell her when she were not there. I gazed at her face. She was not there. She was somewhere else. Her eyes were closed and a grin was smeared on her face. I looked at her beautiful naked body, and soaked in the view. My erection started to hurt me, as it was still confined by my jeans and underpants. I removed them, letting my dick out in the open. Song noticed the movement on the bed and opened her eyes.

"How nice of him to join the party," she said with a smile.

"He was uncomfortable in my little jeans," I explained.

She caressed him a little, and then asked me:

"Do you want to fuck me now? Or do you want to stall some more?"

I knew I was the one wanting to take it slowly, but at this point I wanted only one thing.

"I want to fuck you now, Song," I replied, to her visible joy.

"Great," she said. "You know, I'm on the pill. I have been for a while now. You can fuck me without a condom."

That was obviously good news for me.

"I would love to fuck you without a condom," I said, and she smiled.

"Do you want to be on top?" she asked. "Or do you want me to?"

I didn't know what to choose, but she chose for me. She sat up and moved one leg to my other side, so that she was on top of me. She held my penis and directed it inside her. Then she started moving herself up and down, pushing it inside her, and pulling it out.

As she was on top of me, I could see her pussy going up and down, and my dick getting in and out of her. I reached forward and touched her clit. It was hard to keep track with her movements, but I managed, at least at first, to rub it with my finger, in circular movements. As she got close to an orgasm, her movements became wilder, and I pulled my hand so I wouldn't heart either of us. She leaned back, pushing her breasts up, holding my two legs with her hands, and started cumming hard. She screamed: "Fuck! Fuck, Owen, Fuck!", and then a few syllables I could not recognize. Finally, she crashed on me, with my penis still inside her. I hugged her, feeling her heart beating, pounding on my chest. I kissed her on her cheeks and forehead, and watched her as she slowly recovered from this second orgasm.

"You still haven't cum," she asked me after she came back to it.

"No," I said.

She grabbed me and rolled over, our genitals still connected. This time I was on top.

"Fuck me, Owen," she begged. "Fuck me like there is no tomorrow!"

I started moving myself vigorously in and out of her.

"Fuck me," she continued, as I did. "Cum inside my pussy!"

That did the trick. I came hard. I believe I was almost shouting as I shot my cum inside her. My heart was pounding hard and it felt as if I couldn't catch my breath.

She hugged me warmly, and kissed my face as I was calming down. When I could safely breath again I started kissing her back. We fell asleep as we were. The light was on, were were naked, dripping of each other's juices, hugging.

I woke up after an hour or so. She was still asleep. I watched her sleeping and felt I was happier than ever before. She woke up a few minutes later. As she opened her eyes she saw me and smiled.

"I want this every night," she said.

"Falling asleep with the lights on?" I teased her.

"No, silly," she replied, "be with you!"

I smiled back to her, and she continued:

"I want to fuck you every night, and wake up next to you every morning," she paraphrased what I told her I was looking for, the night we met.

"I'd love that," I replied, and we kissed.

That's it. This is how we met. But this is only the beginning of our love story.