The first of firsts...

He was my air force recruiter and I was merely eighteen. Young and more naive than I had any right to be. It's amazing what the protection of seriously involved parents could bring about. I didn't know any better and I had nothing to be embarassed of. So when the gold of his wedding band glinted in the late afternoon sun I still didn't turn away. It never occurred to me that his marriage was an issue I should concern myself with. Looking back, I should've ran like hell and told him to get lost, but the hedonist in me wouldn't allow something as droll as a social more to turn me away from the intoxicating lure of his kisses and caresses.

He drove over an hour to come to my little two bedroom, college apartment and I had just gotten back from the gym when I found him at my door. He was a bit early and I wanted a shower, so I offered him the kitchen and I went in and cleaned up a bit. I came out wearing a butter yellow tank top and some levi silver tab jeans. I was barefoot save for the toe ring on the second toe of my right foot and my hair was pinned high up on my head. He went through the spiel of why the Air Force was an amazing opportunity, my grades were high, I could be commissioned...and on and on and on. After it was over, I politely told him I was considering the NAVY as well and would seriously consider what he was offering...and I even was honest enough to say that the Air Force bases were in terrible locations unless you got an overseas billet....and that the NAVY was like a lifetime frat house party...which is what I wanted. Out from under the thumb of an oppressive family and the ever weighty duties of what I was always expected to do...

When he stood up to leave and I walked him to my door he turned and looked at me with these big, chocolate brown eyes and said..."I so want to kiss you breathless right now."
"Well, I'm a firm believer in doing what it is that you desire most." I replied with all the sassiness of a too young woman who hadn't yet shed the identity of childhood. When he kissed me though, it was pure heaven. His large frame took up my door and his file folder full of papers scattered across the living room as he backed me into the couch and we laughed nervously. My heart slammed against my rib cage and my palms were sweaty. I let him walk me backwards to my bedroom with the sparsely covered bed and the purple curtains on the basement sized windows and I sat at the edge of the bed. The tip of my tongue nervously darting out to lick across my lips and his smile was genuine when he asked if I were ready. I didn't know enough to be coy or play hard to get and I was full of arrogance when I looked him coolly up and down and smiled knowingly.

It was all for show and we both knew it. My hands shook when I reached for him, I was sweating, I was nervous...I had goosebumps and was in a state of near panic. But when I laid back and felt his tongue sweep across that part of me that emphasizes my femininity I felt faint. I felt eager to return the pleasure...but he held fast to my hips and encouraged me to sink against my covers...to enjoy it. And I did. Ten years later I still tell the story of the man who made me swoon....Do you want to know what happened? I'll tell you...in the confidence of sisterhood that only women can share.

That day, he walked me backwards into my sparsely decorated bedroom and laid me down. I felt my bare skin prickle and goosebumps rise as he undressed himself. He was large and glorious in front of me and for that moment in time, he was mine. His frame was well over six feet tall and he was easily over two hundred pounds of solid sinewy steele and it was easy for me to submit to the desires of such a sexy older man. He was at least twelve years older than me and apparently well versed in undressing women and young girls. But I reveled in the excitement, the enchanting gaze that swept across full breasts and made me ache and tingle all over. I reveled in the idea that this sexy man wanted to touch me, taste me...and I waited breathlessly as I made a grown man go to his knees and worship me with only the word, "Please." It was in that moment that I recognized the power of myself and the mystique of what it is that I possess. My sargeant was on his knees in my bedroom and his mouth was fastened to the heart of my soul. We are more than what occurs between our thighs, but it is moments like this that we are brought to a complete state where the world begins and ends at the juncture of our sex and I was learning to love it.

That man with his dark hair, streaked in silver and those sexy bedroom brown eyes laid me back and left love bites on my hips, across my belly, on the inside of my legs, and his lips worshipped me like a queen. I laid back and allowed him and when it was my turn to return the pleasure...I realized how much power a woman possesses when she takes her turn in giving exquisite release if she enjoys it. The key to sex isn't to endure it but rather to enjoy it. And as I opened my virgin mouth and allowed him to kiss me with the taste of my climax fresh on his tongue, I scratched my nails down his back and pulled him to me, rolling him onto his back and sliding my youthful frame down his lean torso and came into contact with what can only be called the essence of his manhood. His cock. One thing I've learned is that dicks are for little boys who don't know or care how to use them...grown men have a cock. They know what it is for, they use it correctly, they illicit pleasure with it, they push you and reach you at the core of who you are with it...and I loved his. He groaned and moaned and encouraged me and applauded me and guided me. I loved the freeing sensation of a man who wasn't afraid of me. So much of who I am is overpowering and yet this one man wasn't afraid of me, he was daring me. And I accepted the challenge and when he couldn't take more and needed mercy he rolled me back underneath him and as he went to slide in, deeply, sweetly....he stopped and asked if I had a condom. Frustrated and irritated with myself I had to answer, "No." My sargeant was nothing if not interested in protecting us both and he pulled away and responded, "Me either."

He kissed me on the lips, asked for a raincheck...that we never got to indulge and left. I had learned a valuable lesson that I should've been aware of and it's one only boyscouts apparently practice..."Be prepared."