FEELS LIKE THE FIRST TIME

by Scott Hildreth

  She began to rub my thigh as the previews played. The rubbing became more energetic, and her hand began to slide closer toward my rapidly growing erection. Typically, I had tremendous control over my level of arousal, and in turn, my erections. I could mentally regulate if and control when I obtained an erection, regardless of the involvement or actions of my female partner. This did not seem to be the case with Kelli. For my sense of satisfaction, I focused and attempted to make my now full erection flaccid again.

  No success.

  Focus, Erik, focus.

  Rigid.

  Margaret Thatcher naked in a snowstorm. Anchovy pizza. My obese third grade teacher, Miss Kratz. Children playing. Fingernails on a chalkboard. Trigonometry. Clowns. Midget porn.

  No success.

  Her hand slid up my thigh and encompassed my erection. She squeezed lightly. Her head turned from the screen toward me. I looked in her direction slightly. She smiled as she lightly squeezed my erection. Her hand began to slowly slide up and down my inner thigh, to my knee, and back up to my pelvic region.

  I reached toward her with my left hand and grasped her neck slightly. Slowly, but with a firm light grip, I positioned her face closer to mine. With our eyes focused on each other, our lips met. Passionately, aggressively, we kissed. Our moist lips pressed against each other, my tongue searched for hers. As our tongues met, I held the back of her neck tighter, pressing her face against mine. As our mouths parted, I lightly licked her upper lip with the tip of my tongue.

  Immediately, we embraced in another kiss. Her hand stroking my erection, we continued to kiss. I slid my right hand to her left breast. With my thumb and forefinger, I massaged her nipple between my fingers. As she began to moan, the kiss became more passionate. I slid my hands up to her face, holding her face lightly in both hands. With her face firmly in my hands, I looked into her eyes. She gazed at me as if in a trance.

  “I really like kissing you, Erik. I don’t like kissing, and I really, fucking really, like kissing you,” she said, her full lips moist and swollen from the kissing.

  Her head in my hands, I looked into her eyes and spoke, “Kelli, put my cock in your mouth, now. Get my cock out and suck it.”

  Looking intently into my eyes, her hand fumbled for my belt. She unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans, and lifted my tee shirt slightly. Slowly, she unzipped my pants, and reached down in between my thigh and my jeans. With a soft but firm grip, she pulled my full erection from my pants and began to stroke it.

  Turning away from my gaze, she scanned the theatre quickly. After determining that the movie had started, and that the majority of the people were actually focused on the movie, she lowered her head into my lap.

  Her moist mouth encompassed my shaft, and her tongue circled around the tip. Her hair in my lap, and her hands fumbling to remove my jeans further, she began to slide her mouth up and down the shaft. Quickly, she was taking two-thirds of my length into her mouth.

  Her hands slid from my lap toward my outer thigh, and she began to force them between the seat and my ass. Pushing with my feet, I raised the pressure from my thighs, giving her some room to move her hands. Gripping my ass in her hands, she began to force herself onto my cock, swallowing the entire shaft, pressing her lips against my lower stomach. The feeling of my cock sliding into her throat was more than I was able or willing to take.

  As I started to reach down and pull her up, she lifted her head from my lap and looked up into my eyes.

  “Hold my hair, Erik. Hold it back in your hand, please.”

  Placing my hand lightly under her chin, I raised her face to meet mine and kissed her passionately. Our lips pressed firmly into each other’s, my hand slid to the back of her neck at the base of her skull. Massaging her neck with my hand, we continued to kiss. As we parted, I positioned her face beside mine, and whispered into her ear.

  “I will hold your hair from behind you, Kelli. Get on top of me and fuck me. Fuck me now, do you understand me?”

  She didn’t say a word. Moving across the seat toward me, she slid up onto my lap. Then, she stood in the aisle in front of me with her legs bent and lifted her dress above her waist. The muscles in her legs were well defined by the shadows cast in the theatre. Slowly, with her dress held above the waist, she lowered herself onto my lap. As she lifted her weight from my lap, she grabbed my full erection and began to lower herself onto me. As I felt her wetness surround me, she moaned. Placing her hands on the seat in front of her, she began to raise and lower herself onto me completely, her muscular butt hitting against my hips and thighs as she took my entire length inside of her wet pussy. She was extremely tight and wet, and the feeling of her contracting indicated that she was going to come to an orgasm quickly. As she moved slowly and steadily, she turned to me and smiled.

  “Grab my hair…and don’t….hold it….pull…it. Pull it. Pull my hair, Erik,” she said as she gasped for breath.

  She shook her head side-to-side and tilted it back, allowing her hair to fall onto my chest. I grasped her hair in my hand and got a firm grip. As she continued to slide up and down slowly, she began to moan a little louder. I looked around the theatre, confirming that people were focused on the screen. Her breathing began to become shorter, and I could feel that she was contracting around the circumference of my swollen shaft. I pulled her hair toward me, forcing her to arch her back and lean into me. As she did, I positioned my mouth to her right ear.

  “Stay there, Kelli. Lean back. Lean back and fuck me. Keep fucking me. Cum all over my cock, Kelli. Cum all over me. Now, fuck me like a good little girl. Fuck me, Kelli…..Fuck me, Kelli…….Fuck…..me….Kelli.”

  She continued to bounce up and down steadily, her butt slapping against my thighs, taking every inch of me inside of her. I pressed my hand on her lower abdomen as she began to climax.

  “Oh, my God. I……am….going…to…cum. Oh….I…Erik…I am….” She got louder with each word spoken.

  I slid my hand to her mouth, covered it, muffling her voice, and whispered into her ear, “Shhhhh, cum for me, Kelli, keep cumming.”

  Her pace slowed as she reached full climax. She lowered herself onto my lap, my erection still inside of her. She leaned back, twisted at the waist, and grabbed my face in both of her hands.

  “Your cock feels amazing, just saying…”

  She kissed me lightly, lifted herself from my lap, and slid to the seat beside me. As she did, I noticed that there were two younger males in the seat two aisles directly in front of her. I had not noticed them before. One of the two was turned in our direction, looking at us, and not watching the movie. As she moved and exposed me, he turned to his friend and spoke. The friend turned and looked our direction, and then they both turned to the screen.

  “I didn’t realize there were two kids in front of you,” I said, apologetically.

  “I didn’t either until it was too late. When they started watching, it was too late to stop,” she said, smiling.

  “Watching?” I asked.

  “Yes, they were watching the entire time. It was hot.” She began repositioning her dress.

  I pulled my pants up, smiling. I zipped and buttoned them, then quietly buckled my belt. As I lifted my hands from my belt, Kelli looked at me, surprised. She leaned toward me and with a puzzled look on her face, whispered, “What are you doing? I’m not done. Not even close.”

  She reached down, grabbed my belt, and unbuckled it. Taking both hands, she unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. As she looked into my eyes, she reached down and pulled my still somewhat erect shaft from my pants. Lowered herself into the seat, she turned and looked at me.

  “Hold my hair this time Erik,” she said. Then she turned and swallowed my complete erection.

  As her head bobbed up and down, I gathered her hair in my hands. Getting ahold of it, and attempting to collect it in my hand, I lost mental control of what was going on for a moment. That loss of control combined with her capacity to perform orally proved to be more than I was pre
pared for.

  As I began to cum, she forced herself onto me fully. As I climaxed, my feet pressed hard against the floor. Naturally, my legs rose as I balanced on my toes. Raising my thighs forced me deeper into her mouth, and as I did, she forced herself further into my lap, and growled. The feeling of her lips quivering on my sensitive shaft as I climaxed was a new experience for me. Interestingly, it was as pleasurable as the oral performance. After my final ejaculation, my muscles became loose, and I collapsed into the seat.

  She continued to lick the tip and suck on the shaft until she was convinced it was free of any cum. After she was satisfied that she had completed her task, she sat up and smiled. Without a spoken word, she placed my now flaccid member into my jeans, zipped them and buttoned them. After buckling my belt, she leaned back into her seat.

  “Satisfying you satisfies me,” she said.

  “You’re a good girl, Kelli. You make me happy. I’m proud of you. Of who you are,” I responded.

  “You can’t say that enough. I love hearing it. I just love it.” Her eyes sparkled in the dim lighting of the theatre as she spoke.

  “I’ve never came so hard in my life. Your cock is huge. It felt so good,” she whispered.

  “Mostly from the excitement of being in the theatre, I suppose,” I responded.

  “No, it’s weird, there’s something about you. It’s well, weird. With you, I actually… well…I feel. I feel an odd connection. Don’t freak out and run. I’m not falling in love. It’s just. Well, it’s just that sexually, you fit me. You fill a void I have had my entire life. You make me actually feel when you fuck me. Everything about you.” She took a drink of her water and continued.

  “When we were fucking, I felt full. Not just full of your cock, I felt full. Full emotionally. Safe, protected, I wasn’t worried. I never felt that way before. I have felt that way since we talked at the coffee shop and you told me to go to the bathroom. I like it. It’s different. It’s different and it’s a great kind of difference. Don’t ever stop fucking me, Erik. Ever.”

  I looked into her eyes and started to speak. As I did, a lump rose in my throat. I tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come out. My mouth open, and incapable of speech, I reached for my bottle of water. Hoping the water would bring comfort; I raised the bottle and took a long drink.

  “Nothing, you have nothing to say?” she asked.

  I lowered the bottle back into the arm rest, and responded, “Kelli, you’re making me happy, extremely happy.”

  “Don’t ever stop, Erik…”

  “Fucking me,” she continued.

  I’m going to have to. I’m afraid I’m going to have to…

  Chapter 7

  ERIK. Looking beyond life’s imperfections allows one to be able to find happiness. Life is not perfect, ever. For me, remembering that life is flawed, people are flawed, and therefore relationships are flawed, allows me to look at the flaws and imperfections as part of life itself. A perfect life includes all of the flaws associated with what and who you surround yourself with. My life and my means of living it are no exception. I was, as all people are, flawed. I accepted myself as being flawed no differently than I accepted others as being so.

  This way of living and thinking has allowed me to maintain a level head and a peaceful mind, regardless of my surroundings. The types of things that tend to cause other people to develop feelings of disappointment don’t typically faze me. They’re part of living life and are what makes life interesting to live. Realization of the fact that people and life are imperfect, and minimizing my exposure to these imperfections, was something that I did on a daily basis.

  For me, being single is smarter than being in the wrong relationship. I had always told myself that if I could find the perfect woman, the one that could convince me, by merely being herself--by simply existing--that she was perfect, she could make me settle down. Otherwise, being in a relationship would be settling, and I refused to settle.

  Being single, for me, never meant that I was lonely. It meant that I was waiting for the closest thing to perfection that I could find. The person that was perfect for me. My requirements, however, were difficult for most to understand and certainly more difficult to meet. At times, I would look at what I had done or was doing in a relationship and realize that my target, or my partner’s goal, was a moving target; something that they could never obtain. As soon as I felt that they were getting close to meeting the requirements that I had set, I would change them.

  Unaware of what the goal was in the first place, the women would never know how close they came to meeting the almost impossible standard that I had set for them. The relationship would inevitably end, and they would believe all along that I was a person that they were incapable of pleasing. The fault, in their eyes, was always them and never me.

  The death of my father when I was young never really became a conscious issue with me. My mother did a fabulous job of raising me and of instilling her beliefs in me. She was a strong woman, and she always maintained a predictable nature about what her expectations were of me. I had rules and regulations that I was required to follow, and I followed them. I never dreamt of failing my mother or of failing my mother’s expectations of me.

  In school, everything I did was perfect. I always figured if I was provided with the answer, I could remember it, find it, or apply it. My grades, for the majority of my education, were perfect. My mother would have accepted something fractionally less of me, but I would never accept it of myself.

  Although I was smarter than the rest of the children in school, I never separated myself from them. I never talked down to them, nor was I ever perceived as being different than anyone else in class. I realized early that I was a kid that all of the other kids liked and that the other kids migrated to for answers. I was the neighborhood psychiatrist for all of the girls that went to school with me, regardless of their age. They came to me to talk, and I always enjoyed listening.

  Although I was not amazed at the time, as I grew older and looked back upon it, I was amazed at the amount of girls that were sexually active at such a young age. These girls, at that time, were sexually active and were easily convinced to do things, sexual things, with me. My perception of my ability to convince them to do things, during that period of time, was not one of manipulation. I always looked at myself as being more able, more intelligent, and maybe fractionally better looking than the rest of the boys. Their characteristics, not my manipulative tactics, afforded me these opportunities.

  As I grew older, it was easy to see that I was manipulating these girls all along. This was my first exposure to codependency, submissive behavior, and lack of self-esteem. A girl that lacked self-esteem, to me, was the perfect friend. I could explain to her how beautiful she was, how beautiful she acted, and almost immediately she would be willing to do anything for me, sexually speaking. This, for me, was the beginning of what would become a lifestyle of dominant behavior.

  The loss of my father, the early loss of my mother, and the fact that I was an only child caused me to suffer greatly from fear of abandonment. As I got older and was aware of this fear, my lack of having been in a meaningful relationship began to make more sense. Although I did not suffer from all of the characteristics of someone with borderline personality disorder, I did have many of the traits.

  Dealing with the normal peaks and valleys of a romantic relationship was something that I was incapable of doing and doing well. Realization of this shortcoming allowed me to go into my adult relationships with an understanding that the relationship would eventually fail, and that I was in control of this failure. No one would ever leave me in a relationship, because I would always leave them first.

  After the death of my mother, I suspected that my feeling of a need to be in a relationship would grow and that I would eventually succumb to the desires of one of the women that I encountered. Ultimately, I supposed, I would fill the void my mother left with that of another woman. Not only had this not happened, but I had no
t felt the desire to make this happen with anyone. I continued to enjoy my single life, without commitment, more so now than I had in my early adult life.

  My desire or feeling of necessity to be in a dominant role in a relationship was separate from my lack of commitment to a relationship. The dominant role, sexually, for me, was one that I found extremely satisfying. I had learned that it was even difficult for me to find mild satisfaction in a relationship in the absence of me being dominant. Dominance, once experienced in a relationship, ruined any chance of my being satisfied in a non-dominant role.

  This required sexual dominance, this need to be in charge in a relationship, limited the women that I could expose myself to. To try to be in any form of a dominant role with a woman that was not submissive was a recipe for disaster for both parties. There is nothing more disappointing to a dominant male than to have to try to convince or to argue with a woman about fulfilling his sexual desires. Having that sexual need met when requested was the portion of the sexual relationship that was just as satisfying as an orgasm. It wasn’t the performance of the act as much as it was the performance of the request itself. The request could be a simple one. The performance of it was the satisfaction, regardless of the depth or degree of the request.

  I always told myself if I found a woman that was satisfactory in appearance and personality, and was willing to do whatever I asked of her, as I requested it, I would commit to her. Eventually, I always raised the requests to a level that the submissive woman found to be beyond her willingness or capabilities. This lack of desire to fulfill my request was one of my many potential reasons for dismissal of a partner from my life.

  Finding a woman capable, or willing, to do anything I asked was every bit of impossible. It was a matter of asking the right question, the question that they were incapable or unwilling to answer ‘Yes sir’ to.