The Scoundrel Who Sexually Awakened Me

Liar, with the face of a choirboy
Sweet talker, toy boy
The scoundrel who sexually awakened me.

Humans want to love and be loved
But screw love
Because come nighttime
‘Ah, but living flesh could look like this! I was in the grip of remorseless appetite.’

Stocky, scruffy British Indian guy with small man-breasts and a lot of hair
(Well. Everywhere except THERE)
He was no Brad Pitt
I was no sex addict
But the way we kissed…
At first I was clumsy but being patient, he took me on a journey:
“Small kisses, baby, small kisses.”
Next thing I know we’re French kissing.

We weren’t animals right away
Being Muslims and virgins, we had limits –
Watching ‘What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?’ on his bed,
Ignoring the movie and my long skirt, he sweeped his hand up and down my white, freshly-shaven legs
“Where’s the limit?”
“Here.”
“Okay. I’ll never go above the limit, I promise.”
The answer to that question changed every night
The persistent Casanova I couldn’t fight.

I still remember the occasion
On which I first provoked (and felt) a huge erection
The bedroom lights highlighted my state – disheveled
Me in a sleeveless, striped top and black shorts, him in red shorts and a T-shirt,
Kissing, kissing, kissing…
Feeling something hardening
‘So this is what those erotic novels talk about.’
He stands up, says, “I’m not sleeping here tonight. We should have more self-control. Tonight there’ll be no hanky-panky.”
I’m not really listening; just continue staring at the bulge in his shorts, growing
I can see his ‘resolve’ stiffening
I stand up to show him the way and he kisses me again
Trapping my arms above my head he pushes-kisses me until my back slams into the cupboard
“Oh, you’re so hard,” I breathe
“Mmm, I’m so hard,” he agrees.

His ultimate goal was to get my panties off
Coax out the pussy
That son of a bitch really knew his stuff – made me huff and puff
Expertly, with excruciating slowness he’d stroke the pussy until I opened my legs and purred
Deciding to be more direct,
He licked me, made me wet, and lapped…
“You like that?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me what you want.”
Once I was so delirious I didn’t realize his finger was in until it got out
How to describe the hottest moment?
“I don’t know how to describe it. It was so tight, so wet, and yet, so soft.”

(Then, later – “Tin you need to shave down there. It’s too hairy.”
Great lover, crappy boyfriend. Boys I don’t care if it’s scary, but some girls like it hairy)

I would accidentally awaken at 4 am
Upon catching his scent, on making love to him I would be hell-bent
“Go to sleep, Tin.”
“I can’t.”
“Shhh.”
“Maybe if I kiss you I can go to sleep again.”
Yeah right. For 2 hours we would indulge in delicious nonsense.

About my body…my praises he would sing
And yet, I know you’re wondering…
“What about his magic wand? Did you like his thing?”
The whole package was clean-shaven, smooth to the touch
That said, I didn’t like massaging it much
And I refused to treat it like ice cream
Size matters. I thought my first lover’s thing would be bigger
But I’m sick
Operationally speaking, there was nothing wrong with it
We kissed and it raised its head
My breasts jostled against his chest and it would get all excited
Once his fingers stroked a buttock it would become as hard as a rock
Better than a house of cards
Once erected it would stay that way for a very long time – a healthy sign

By now you must think me a whore
Ah but my body he adored
Virgins until marriage – that was the idea
There was frustration galore
He was devilishly good at foreplay it made me want to say
“Nail me, nail me, nail me.”
Being tantric, he would soothe me with lovemaking that could only be called creative


Yes, he was a
Liar, with the face of a choirboy
Sweet talker, toy boy
The scoundrel who sexually awakened me.