I never understood why people put so much time and energy into the mission that is, SEX, until some time last year. As I look back to the experience that was, I find myself thinking about the first time I climaxed. My first sexual experience on my grandmother's leather couch;
I was watching cartoons, bored stiff - more like flaccid. My left hand found its way down my pants and started stroking my limp, thick scarfed penis, in the hopes that this would occupy my time. It arose in all its might. I remembered my friend Steve making these funny gestures with his right hand, in a motion alien to me. A motion he so happily expressed when he thought our male friends "Kray". So in the moment, I thought, I should explore this phenomenon and see what it was all about.
I stood up and made sure the front door was locked. I lowered my shorts and underwear and continued "killing time". What happened next was unexpected. This meaningless motion which I undertook to occupy myself had metaphorized itself into something so pleasurable. I was taken by it and couldn't find a means to halt "killing time". My attention was no longer on the TV, but on this sensation which gave life to my loins and my eyes locked on the ceiling. I continued - I felt that I had to, needed to go on, faster, but not too much. I had to find an adequate pace. I couldn't miss a second of it. I had to bask in the moment. Let it take me. Be embellished by this momentous experience.
The pleasure started to grow. I couldn't control nor contain myself, screaming inside, but mute on the outside. My mind was a clean canvas, but the cleanliness of it moved me. I felt dirty and yet I didn't give a shit. I was having a one-on-one with myself and no one was invited.
And then, it happened. As if the universe was recreated, the Big Bang, Genesis. I felt pain and so much pleasure. It felt like an atom bomb had gone off in my crotch.
I did not stop.
I could not stop.
I did not want to stop.
But now my once firm and strong penis seemed to be losing life, becoming void. I looked at it, and found it drenched in these juices that scared me at first. I looked down again and it dawned on me. Life studies - I was mastubating and what I felt was an orgasm and what followed was the ejaculate. These juices that left my t-shirt soaked, was my semen. My curiosity got the better of me and I was enjoying the ride.
That was 8 (eight) years ago, before the dating and the drama. Throughout the years, I had found people to love, but always struggled with the concept of intercourse. Since I was in primary school, my grandmother had been providing me with a steady supply of condoms. One of the perks and a misfortune of having a relative working in a hospital. Her forcing these rubber balloons on me made me fear the act. "Never have sex without a condom!" she would scream at me. Even to this day.
But that was then, and things have changed since then.
This act that scared me for far so many years, has become somewhat of a delicacy, one easily obtainable. The act of being in sync with another entity, exchanging bodily fluids, our eyes not being more than a meter apart always seems to excite me and urge me to bite my lower lip.
Ecstasy personified in a moment.
A moment owned by two people.
Two people reliving the times they "killed time".
An average time of 22 seconds of "killing time".
So when I was home alone, sometime last year, and had nothing to do but watch TV and chat on BBM, I invited a friend over. My intentions were innocent, until I really became bored and initiated an innocent kiss. It was nothing special, but sensual kisses shared by two friends who had love for each other.
I honestly thought that it wouldn't lead anywhere, but it did. Little did I know that he had always had a soft spot for me and wanted us to kick it up a notch.
Clothes miraculously found their way to the floor, don't ask me how as I don't recall. We occupied the entire volume of my bedroom and nothing else mattered but that present moment.
One thing led to another and he stopped, gave me a lust filled gaze, a gaze that spoke volumes with no requirement for words.
We went for it. At every turn, our eyes find each other and I can honestly say, it felt perfect. It was my first time and I had no regrets of the moments that followed. It was everything I wished it to be and I was surprised by the ending. Out of breath, slightly disorientated and wanting more, I stood up with my hands on waist laughing with excitement. "Let's do it again!" I asked him, but that obviously didn't go far.....
Far too often we say we are saving ourselves for the right person. Truth is, there is no right or wrong person, only the right time when you truly feel ready and have opened yourself up to the idea of it and the moment when everything is finished and you can't turn back time. The idea of looking back and reminiscing about your first time and not regretting it.
Finding excitement in the idea of it and sometimes making comparisons.
At the end of the day (morning or evening), its time, time either killed perfectly or time wasted.
Just make sure it is the right time
Perfectly "Killed Time".-
I was watching cartoons, bored stiff - more like flaccid. My left hand found its way down my pants and started stroking my limp, thick scarfed penis, in the hopes that this would occupy my time. It arose in all its might. I remembered my friend Steve making these funny gestures with his right hand, in a motion alien to me. A motion he so happily expressed when he thought our male friends "Kray". So in the moment, I thought, I should explore this phenomenon and see what it was all about.
I stood up and made sure the front door was locked. I lowered my shorts and underwear and continued "killing time". What happened next was unexpected. This meaningless motion which I undertook to occupy myself had metaphorized itself into something so pleasurable. I was taken by it and couldn't find a means to halt "killing time". My attention was no longer on the TV, but on this sensation which gave life to my loins and my eyes locked on the ceiling. I continued - I felt that I had to, needed to go on, faster, but not too much. I had to find an adequate pace. I couldn't miss a second of it. I had to bask in the moment. Let it take me. Be embellished by this momentous experience.
The pleasure started to grow. I couldn't control nor contain myself, screaming inside, but mute on the outside. My mind was a clean canvas, but the cleanliness of it moved me. I felt dirty and yet I didn't give a shit. I was having a one-on-one with myself and no one was invited.
And then, it happened. As if the universe was recreated, the Big Bang, Genesis. I felt pain and so much pleasure. It felt like an atom bomb had gone off in my crotch.
I did not stop.
I could not stop.
I did not want to stop.
But now my once firm and strong penis seemed to be losing life, becoming void. I looked at it, and found it drenched in these juices that scared me at first. I looked down again and it dawned on me. Life studies - I was mastubating and what I felt was an orgasm and what followed was the ejaculate. These juices that left my t-shirt soaked, was my semen. My curiosity got the better of me and I was enjoying the ride.
That was 8 (eight) years ago, before the dating and the drama. Throughout the years, I had found people to love, but always struggled with the concept of intercourse. Since I was in primary school, my grandmother had been providing me with a steady supply of condoms. One of the perks and a misfortune of having a relative working in a hospital. Her forcing these rubber balloons on me made me fear the act. "Never have sex without a condom!" she would scream at me. Even to this day.
But that was then, and things have changed since then.
This act that scared me for far so many years, has become somewhat of a delicacy, one easily obtainable. The act of being in sync with another entity, exchanging bodily fluids, our eyes not being more than a meter apart always seems to excite me and urge me to bite my lower lip.
Ecstasy personified in a moment.
A moment owned by two people.
Two people reliving the times they "killed time".
An average time of 22 seconds of "killing time".
So when I was home alone, sometime last year, and had nothing to do but watch TV and chat on BBM, I invited a friend over. My intentions were innocent, until I really became bored and initiated an innocent kiss. It was nothing special, but sensual kisses shared by two friends who had love for each other.
I honestly thought that it wouldn't lead anywhere, but it did. Little did I know that he had always had a soft spot for me and wanted us to kick it up a notch.
Clothes miraculously found their way to the floor, don't ask me how as I don't recall. We occupied the entire volume of my bedroom and nothing else mattered but that present moment.
One thing led to another and he stopped, gave me a lust filled gaze, a gaze that spoke volumes with no requirement for words.
We went for it. At every turn, our eyes find each other and I can honestly say, it felt perfect. It was my first time and I had no regrets of the moments that followed. It was everything I wished it to be and I was surprised by the ending. Out of breath, slightly disorientated and wanting more, I stood up with my hands on waist laughing with excitement. "Let's do it again!" I asked him, but that obviously didn't go far.....
Far too often we say we are saving ourselves for the right person. Truth is, there is no right or wrong person, only the right time when you truly feel ready and have opened yourself up to the idea of it and the moment when everything is finished and you can't turn back time. The idea of looking back and reminiscing about your first time and not regretting it.
Finding excitement in the idea of it and sometimes making comparisons.
At the end of the day (morning or evening), its time, time either killed perfectly or time wasted.
Just make sure it is the right time
Perfectly "Killed Time".-
Wow I'm speechless
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