18
THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder. Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey. –William Shakespeare – Romeo and Juliet
Dear Journal,
Remember all those long journal entries about my virginity? So much ink wasted on the subject. Will we? Or won’t we? Am I ready? Or should I wait?
I was sure Blake would be my first. I was so in love. He was my first love, and I couldn’t imagine ever liking someone else as much as I liked him. Such is teenage passion, I guess.
My first time was fine. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great. I’d heard from friends that it can hurt the first time, and it did, a little. To be fair to Peter, the first time is never fireworks for a woman. He was a very sweet and gentle lover, and the night itself was amazing.
I’ve never told you about that night. I’m not sure why I didn’t feel the need to share with you. I suppose I was pretty busy at the time, with school projects and exams, and frat parties. You and I barely had a relationship during those years.
Peter did everything right. He got us a romantic room in a quaint Bed & Breakfast. We had a romantic dinner and shared a bottle of red wine. I was a little tipsy, very relaxed. We came together in the big fluffy romantic bed, and he undressed me slowly, kissing every inch of my body. He made me feel loved and desired. He didn’t bring me to orgasm with penetration and I hadn’t expected him to. Shortly after, he touched me and made me come. We cuddled and watched an episode ofFriends.
It was perfect.
But it was nothing like my first time with Blake.
Yes, Blake and I finally made love. After all these years. Well, I can’t quite say we ‘made love’. We fucked. And it was mind-blowing.
Peter is like a cup of my favorite tea; nice and sweet, hits the spot, something I look forward to. Blake is like heroin. Addictive, filthy, bad. Something I wish I didn’t crave. I’ve never done heroin but I’ve seen the movieTrainspotting. Blake Taylor is my heroin.
It was nothing like I’d imagined my first time with Blake would be. I’d always thought it would be in my fluffy pink bed, and soft and slow. Instead, it took place in a dark storage room, surrounded by store merchandise. I was bent over an old rusty freezer, and taken from behind, brought to climax while Momma was sitting not far away, reading a trashy novel.
I loved every single second of it.
And now I want more. I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t crave him like a drug. I want him inside me again. It’s all I can think about. I should have never gone there. I should have known he’d have this effect on me. I should have known I wouldn’t want just one hit. He’s all I’ve thought about for the past twenty-four hours. I wonder if he’s thinking about me. That kind of wild wanton sex is probably something he gets every week, a different tramp every time, I’m sure.
We did use protection. I wasn’t that foolish. I’m still on the pill but I know that Blake is a player – I didn’t want to take any chances.
Should I just ignore him, go home in two days, and forget all about him? I’m sure once I’m back home, he won’t consume my every thought.
Or should I have another hit or two? Just once or twice more. Enjoy him, and then go home and forget all about him.
I’ve already gone there. What’s once or twice more?
But no. Absolutely not.
All I need to do is to steer clear of the man. I’m only here for two more days.
Easy-peasy.
Later, Journal.
M
* * *
I fallinto his arms in one fell swoop. I’ve missed him so much. He hugs me tightly, too tightly.
“You’re crushing me,” I mumble into his large chest. He’s so much bigger than me. It wasn’t always the case, but he now towers over me.
He pulls away with a wide grin. “Sorry, Sis.”
“It’s so nice to see you, Tim.” My eyes are brimming with tears. “I’m sorry I don’t come over more often.”
He shrugs. “It’s okay… you’re busy.” He hasn’t changed at all; still handsome as always, and quiet and soft spoken. He’s the only one who inherited our dad’s light green eyes. They’re striking against his dark complexion – he’s the kind of man who doesn’t go unnoticed when he goes out, but he rarely goes out, a true recluse like our father was.
