Thanksgiving 1998, part 3

Warning:

This entry has a level of sexuality unusual to the blog. If you are sensitive to this type of material, do not continue reading.

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Her apartment was painted a deep blue. Cerulean, dark, but dreamier than navy. It had a pulse, like a night sky over city lights. I can't remember if she painted the walls or if her roommate did. Sitting there, trying to pretend she wasn't sliding my pants off, I decided that her roommate must have painted the walls.
I enjoyed the walls. They were comforting.
I needed to be comforted.
She, despite her actions, was not comforting.
I felt guilty for enjoying the walls the roommate picked out. I'm sure she did not intend for me to bask in her impeccable blue walls while carrying on like this. It seemed like a slap in the face.
I was happy for the aqua-green wall-to-wall carpeting covering the apartment and warming my toes. It complemented the walls nicely and seemed a miracle of feng shui.
Does feng shui have anything to do with carpet color?
I was stalling. I was thinking about anything other than the obvious: she had taken my pants off. Boxers too.
I was naked.
The window shade was up.
I was naked in front of a window shade that was up.
Her apartment was on the fourth floor and it was across from other apartments.
I was in her mouth. I couldn't believe that I was given no warning.
This was what they called "third base."
I was positive everyone was watching us through the window, like a peep show. Like Raymond Burr in "Rear Window". I wondered what all the peeping toms thought about my penis. I went from having a secret dick to having a public spectacle for the entire North Side.
One of the best feelings in the world is being extremely cold, wearing only pajamas and dive-bombing into a nice cozy, warm bed. The warmth of wrapping a feather comforter around my head, snuggling my toes into the flannel sheets...
That's what her mouth felt like around my penis.
But "third base" is strange and uncomfortable. Penises are gross and I couldn't imagine it being very fun down there.
I wanted her to come back closer to my face. I wanted to rip her little shorts off, I wanted to kiss her and see that her eyes were no longer red.
I wanted to remember this.

I wanted to remember everything about it.

I tapped her on the shoulder, not knowing the protocol for getting someone's attention when they're down there. I tapped her again on the shoulder, as the top of the head seemed disrespectful. Like she was a small child.
I quickly expelled any further thoughts of small children.
I whispered her name. I wanted her attention, but feared that if I startled her, she'd bite. I whispered it again and tapped her on the shoulder as I did it. I held her red locks and tugged them slightly. Then I cupped her ears and pulled. She finally took the hint and moved up to me.
We immediately kissed and I calculated the percentage of my own penis I tasted in that kiss. I began playing with her breasts again. I was a little more confident now without knowing why. She smiled and stood up, but I still couldn't see her eyes.
I wondered if I was failing her. I wondered if she was enjoying this, if it was real.
She went into her bedroom. I didn't follow her. I'm not sure why I didn't follow her. My head wasn't clear. The blue walls, the peeping toms, the puffy eyelids, the exposed member.
I was reminded of my nudity and of the big open window. I rushed past the recliner and pulled the shade down. She came out of her room, topless but still wearing her shorts. She told me to sit back down.
I was still hard.
She stood in front of me as I sat back on the couch and told me to take her shorts off. I did. There was nothing abnormal about her area.
It was like looking into the face of Jesus – it was an epiphany, but familiar all at once. Like meeting your favorite celebrity or finally remembering the name of the song whose tune you've been humming all week. I'd seen many, many vaginas before, but none were this close, the real.
She was close-cropped but not bald and there were no scars or signs of disease.
It was a condom she retrieved from her bedroom.
Thinking back, I'm not sure why she didn't ask me into her bedroom, but I imagine it had something to do with her penchant for candles. She had an abnormal amount of candles in her room. They surrounded her bed, lit up her room like Rudolph on Christmas Eve. It seemed dangerous to do anything in there with all those candles.
She might also have wanted her roommate to walk in on us.
I might have wanted that too.
Who was I kidding? She'd slipped the condom on and I shook with fear. What could I have possibly wanted with a second girl, when I couldn't handle the first?
She stood over me once again looking at my newly encased penis. I leaned forward - incredibly vulnerable - and rubbed her thighs. She smiled at me and I wished she wouldn't. It hurt. She hurt and her smile just made me more aware of it. I wanted her to be angry. I wanted her to get dressed and cry on my shoulder some more. I wanted her life to be better than it was. I wanted her to say something.
We never said a word to one another.
I smiled. She smiled back. We were ready.
I wasn't, but we were.
I kept rubbing her thighs, they were smooth and tight and safe.
She bent forward, still standing over me, and put both her hands on my chest. I was sturdy and it felt good to be leaned on. She aimed herself at my penis and slipped in easily. I wasn't sure if I was in, but it was suddenly much warmer. She was sitting on top of me.
No going back now. This one was for the books.
I wanted to remember everything.
I wanted to remember everything but the bad parts.
I wanted her to forget the bad parts.
I wanted her smile to signify happiness, not surrender.
She made several pained sounds and I worried I was doing it wrong, hurting her.
I worried that the walls were thin and I wondered what the auditory version of a peeping tom was. An eavesdropper, that's what it was. I wondered if apartments 403 or 405 were eavesdroppers.
She moaned some more.
I pulled her ear close to whisper. I wanted to know if this was okay. She nodded, gyrating her pelvis around. Her eye closed tight, she wasn't smiling. She was grimacing in concentration, moaning breathlessly. She finally looked peaceful. Her face was reddening. Her eyes blended into blush.
Her hair tickled my chest like a spring breeze.
Her anger was manifesting.
I sat there, gripping her from behind. I felt strong sliding my hands from the curve at the small of her back to the backs of her thighs.
She was an Irish girl; red hair, blue eyes, fair skin. Her face was filling with blood and I could feel myself becoming more and more excited. Her sounds were what did it. It was the only indication I had that she was enjoying herself.
I was in shock. Her breasts knocked together making a wet sound, like a hand slapping a marble slab. She kept gasping. Her face growing more.
She was happy.
Success.
She moved faster now and hurt my hips. I didn't care.
I was close.
I wanted everything to be different. I wanted her eyes to open and smile, to match her face. I wanted her life to improve. I couldn't save her, I couldn't save anyone. I wanted a bigger dick. It seemed big enough. I wanted it bigger. I wanted everything as blue as these walls. I wanted the roommate to walk through the door. I wanted to put my clothes back on and start over. I wanted a different ending. I wanted everything to be different. I wanted to see her smiling eyes. Her big blue smiling eyes. I wanted to hold on. I wanted to please her, save her. I wanted to remember everything.
It ended.
She stopped moving and I pressed her close to me.
Her head was buried into my collarbone. I worried that she'd begin crying again and slobber all over my bare neck. I hoped she wouldn't start crying again until I could put my shirt back on.
The stillness ached. So did my hips.
I wanted to see her eyes.
I gently grabbed her head and guided it away from me. Her eyes were closed. She opened them.
The red left her face, but remained encircling her blue-splashed eyes.

They say you never forget your first time; that you remember every little detail for the rest of your life.
I hope they're wrong.

The End.