Step 2 – Ephemeral Encounters

Well shit.

There she was cute and alluring as I had always envisioned her to be. Her warm presence pulled me out of my stoned stupor and drew me in to her home. As soon as we met, she liked to stand next to me close and drawn in. I liked that it, felt welcoming. She was charming and sweet and supportive in the manner you conversed in. If you said something silly or dorky she laughed and reasoned in your favour. I liked her assertive yet submissive presence. It turned me the fuck on. I liked her passed experiences with drugs, it made me feel comfortable enough to show that part of me.

We shuffled out of the door and headed to my truck. I, like the big awkward goon that I am, open the door for her and shut it and then again like the gentleman that I also happen to be I open and wave her in to the bar.

She suggests sharing food bringing conclusivity to my thoughts of her impending perfection. I think at this point in the night she could have spilt a pot of hot rice tea on my crotch and I would have cooed over her cute, oh so sweet clumsiness. She had me in the palm of her hands, and she was going to give me exactly what I needed. We shared stories about our lives and asked each other questions one might expect on a first date.

Personal details... and recounts of past loss... drew each other closer then we intended, electrifying the air between us with every layer we shed.

After drinks and leg caresses at a mild mannered local dingy pub, we sat and talked in the quietness of my truck. Her fixation with my tobacco infused vaporizing pen released some of that intensity and allowed us to dabble in sharing a physical experience with one another, before delving further. Passing the warm grey object from my hand to hers allowed us to go deeper in to the space held between us and out of the spaces in our separate bodies. Not more then three inhales and I flick the keys to my truck and suggest we find a bed or couch or bathroom, or anything.

Smiling, K led us home to her place.

The inviting warmth flooded over me once again as we stepped through the oddly narrow doorway of her quaint apartment. Motioning me to sit, I happily abided. She pressed her knees down and leaned her front body dangerously close to my shaking lips. She hummed and softly moaned as she lifted her parted lips up to my eager grin moving in close enough to feel my breath quicken as my heart began to race.

To say that our lips touched one another perfectly is undoubtedly an

understatement.

Her plush and soft with my insatiable thirst. Later, I found out that I was her first time with a woman. I was frankly shocked. Why?

* She was confident in every possible way but tender and forgiving in her approach.

*I felt like I was allowed to express myself both sensually and vulnerably as well as in assertively in control.

*Her hands pressed against the creases of the couch encroaching my body taking absolute control as I felt myself happily relinquishing my power under hers.

*Her body, the ideal size for a build like my own.

*People who are good at sex know how to make themselves come, and she did.

Clearly if you're good at sex you're good at sex, no matter what genital you might be sucking on.

Just short enough for her to have to lift her chin at a 90-degree angle to press her lips against mine, her body a delicate feminine silhouette with soft and juicy curves. Lushly thick Japanese hair danced down her back as she pressed the silken skin between her thighs against me, her body dancing rhythmically drawing my pleasure out and in to herself. Forgive me for the unnecessary detail I cannot make you, a reader feel what I felt without those seemingly pointless experiences that somehow encapsulate the essence of the memory.

There comes a point during sex where I feel a pivotal shift in my energy, and I know it’s the right time to take back every bit of power in the dynamic and bring her to a hopefully earth shaking climax. Normally I lie supine waiting for her to climb on to me totally letting go under her touch and then slowly allowing my body to move with hers. That plays out in different positions and rhythms until the moment I mentioned earlier hits me and I direct her to do exactly what will give her an orgasm.

Now that being different for every woman in the entire world makes love making an intuitive and receptive act.

When I first meet a woman I allow the pleasure she feels to coincide with the pleasure I feel touching her, or rather,

I think this naturally happens.

If it feels good for me to run my tongue relaxed, wide, and slow along the length of her labial lips, it feels good for her too. K very much enjoyed my fingers inside of her which I could not have been happier about. From the moment I walked in to her place and felt the eager and nervous energy she was giving me I new that she unabashedly wanted me.

That’s usually how it goes in my relationships with women; they set an intention to be with me, and experience something that they’ve never allowed themselves to partake in before.

Can you blame me for feeling honoured that these beautiful yet suppressed creatures choose me to take a step forward in life?

Because boys,

K felt comfortable around me, as well as aroused naturally because I gave her space to be the feminine entity that she is so used to being, and in turn she may and in this case did feel confident enough to hold space for me as a man.

It's all about space — and space requires love —

Let's all add a little love to our encounters, even the ephemeral ones.

A lil' disclosure:

*Words I use like boys / girls, female / male, man / woman, I use them in the most inconsistent way possible and usually they have nothing to do with their Oxford definition.