Posts Tagged ‘first time’

first time

August 27, 2018

When it happened for the first time it became a part of her. Like knowing and understanding all the moving pieces of a dream that doesn’t make sense when conscious. All it took was the glimmer and she was defined. She knew. She needed no more persuading. No more experimenting. Nothing could undo it. She was an immediate. Intuition is weird like that. Like a moment of déjà vu. You’ve already seen this moment. It’s already a part of you. No one needed to teach that.

When it happened it’s as if she became more whole. She wasn’t not whole before… but… she now had acquired more of herself. The kind of self that makes up your soul. Not just like having blue as your favorite color or having a favorite soft drink. But the kind of self-awareness that makes one older…. Wiser? It does something else too. It makes one more attractive. From the inside out. Like rays coming through the clouds. You can tell by looking at her that it comes from well beneath the surface.

How did something that instantly became so much of her not exist in the previous moment? But didn’t it? Maybe it was just uncovered. Part of her was in the darkness. And now it’s in light. Kind of like that painting that is the two faces in black, but a goblet in white. Once you see the goblet (or the faces, whichever you didn’t see immediately) you can never un-see it. Every time you see that picture again…. All the parts are there in every moment your eyes are upon it. Just like she didn’t become someone different.

All it took was the hint of his next move. His hands started at her breast… which is quite normal for that kind of scene. The primal moments between man and woman where things just are just born. His hand crept up from there. Did he do it slow? Or was it that when he started the ascent she knew what she wanted and she begged silently and held her breath. Then it happened. His hand landed exactly how she had hoped. How did she know to hope for this? His hand. Her neck. She didn’t realize she was actually holding her breath till the grip hit and she let out a gasp. A moan accompanied the gasp a long with new wetness escaping her. In one big eruption.

That was the moment she knew.

But she didn’t really know. She just found this piece of her that was there all along. She didn’t know it had a name. she didn’t know it was relatively normal…. Or normal in this day an age where networking with everyone on the planet means you can find commonalities with anyone no matter how perverse.

It took a few more moments of equal weight to this moment for her to find that definition.

Masochist.

She remembers the first time someone said that to her. And she repeated it. And it was right.

“You’re a masochist.” “I’m a masochist.”

Again, in an instant… more light uncovered her soul.