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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/917772-Memories-of-Fun
Rated: 18+ · Non-fiction · Adult · #917772
A series of events that flesh out 'Consent and the Implications'
I was twenty, in a few days I would become twenty-one. I had had a long distance relationship with a good girl. She had dumped me. I was a virgin still. I was going to college, I had earned the money to do so and I was still earning money on the weekends. I was a laundry sorter. I could tell you how many gold coloured napkins Chateu Victoria used over a two day period. Usually about two hundred and fifty. As compared to the three humndred burgundy. Or the one thousand white.

Suffice to say my professional life was excilerating.

I lived in my mother's basement. I had not had the opportunity to show a girl my humble appartments in the three years I had lived there. I had not shown anyone outside of immediate family. Suffice to say my social life and love life where dead on arrival.

One tuesday, one week prior to my twenty-first birthday I was returning home after returning a video to the rental shop. Between the pizza joint and an old book store had allways been a closed door I had never paid very much attention to.

That night it was open. Soft red light played off of yellow paint of the wall. Stairs led up. A suspicious mind began to calculate. A sign on the door said "use back door, please." A private residence with a limited number of guests wouldn't need such a sign.

I sprinted across the busy road and looked. Three big windows all shaded one with a single red light shone.

I sprinted back across and looked around back. A matt on the ground declared "Welcome Friends" and a motion sensor activated light turned on a plastic rope light that coiled it's way up the side-rail illuminated the upgoing stairs. A step to the side revealed a "No smoking" plaque on the door at the top. Beyond the stair and the door stood a patio concealed by tall wall like railing.

A patio with a lock.

A business with out a sign. But with signs. A small parking lot. I remembered allways seeing a taxi come out of this parking lot while waiting for pizza to be made.

I was two blocks from home.

I returned home.

On friday night with fifty dollars in my pocket I returned. With wobly steps I climbed the stairs and knocked on the door.

Jada opened the door with a smile and greeted me by another man's name. I told her what my name was.

She asked who I was there to see.

I told her I was here to see someone. Emphasis on the someone.

She asked who this someone was.

I told her I had no idea at all.

She decided I should come in so I could talk to her.

She took me to the VIP room. One of four and most favoured by girl and customer alike. It was decorated in such a fashion that it managed to barely whisper sex yet remain innocent. After a few minutes I was forced to admit it was possibly the most comphortable room I have ever been in.

She asked if I knew where I was.

I said brothel.

Close she replied an escort service.

She showed me the book. Leather bound with two entries on each page that gave flattering verbal descriptions that included strange and obscure words like 'auburn' 'demure' and 'lanky.'

"How about you?"

She smiled a broad smile. One of a woman who is surprised and pleased. She was large with darkish skin and a faint pattern of scars on her brow indicating glass that broke upon her.

I like scars.

She said she would be happy too.

I asked how much.

She told me.

I regretfully left.

I returned on sunday around noon with twice as much in my pocket.

Jada answered the door again. She had been asleep. She showed me again to the VIP room and went to shower.

I sat in the room and memorized every detail of the decor as I had not forseen the need to bring a book. Forty minutes latter she returned.

In nervousness in that time I had undressed and redressed twice each. Forty minutes is a long time to leave a desperate, nervous and uncertain virgin waiting.

She didn't have to know that though. She did read my nervousness. She asked if I had a girlfriend.

No, I didn't. That was why I was there. Who would spend money at an escort service if they had a girlfriend? I had assumed most of their customer base would be bachelors. People comming out of relationships and those in dry spells between.

She corrected my innocence. Most where in relationships and used the escort service as an auxilaury or sometimes primary source of sex. In addition to tourists when they could slip away from their wives.

I embraced this piece of knowledge and key to comprehension of the human soul. Added to the slowly gathering realization that women really, REALLY where just like men in almost all respects save upbringing.

"I wonder just what all those wives and girlfriends do while their boys are here." I said with a slow smile. As she sat down on the bed next to me.

Work at other agencies or nail the mailman most likely was her reply.

"Really?" I asked.

"No, probably not," she answered.

I embraced her. I had grown slightly muscular in my long work at the laundry. I still had soft fat on my body but under that was more muscle then I had ever enjoyed previously. Bags of soaking wet linen where heavy.

I was nervous and not yet errect when she put a condom on me. First and only time that kind of mistake happened. I'm small before I become hard. Then I am in the medium range. Width wise medium, long wise I'm large. Leaves most medium condoms about an inch away from the base.

As a result I didn't make it to full size and I didn't enjoy the sex as much as I would on latter dates.

She sucked me until I was hard then we went to missionary.

She was big and I will admit that I have never gotten used to thinner women in missionary. I admit I was spoiled in that way.

I discovered how to adapt to a small size I didn't have. I slanted. She was wet and didn't need lubrication even though it was handy.

She did need it when I straddled her chest and fucked her tits.

When I left I found I had been there a half hour longer then I had paid for.

The morning after my birthday and 4:30 am I returned. I had been given a choice between Jada and Selena. I chose Selena on the basis that I didn't want to get attached.

It turned out after some confusion that Selena and Jada where one and the same. She had wanted to create the illusion of choice and hadn't recognized my voice.

She recognized me.

This time I told her I had been a virgin. She was put off a little by that. She told me she was surprised and that I had done better then some old timmers. I accepted the praise. It might even have been true.

Again we fucked. She refused doggy style when I suggested saying she really wasn't comfortable in that position. In a bigger condom I filled her more comfortably and only slanted a little for the sake of increased friction for her.

When done she asked me to stay a little longer. As it was my birthday she wanted to try something. She got ice.

I wasn't especially interested in it but she was. So I accepted. Ice first in her mouth when I kissed her. She looked at me oddly but didn't object. It had tacken her a second to decide how she felt about it. Then in her pussy. I was grateful for the condom. Icey cold can kill a hard on. To be honest it was an extreme effort to work up even a light sweat with the ice.

She offered to let me stay still but I had to go to class.

I fell in love with her. I tried to take her out twice, once for coffee and once to a movie. She agreed both times but stood me up. She tried to refuse money a few times. I didn't let her.

New Years Eve after a frustrating time at the party and unable to get any girl interested in me I went back to Jada. I asked for her by name. She was there.

She accused me of not comming by anymore. Playfully of course. I told her I had missed her and had been upset at being stood up. She explained again about how her daughter had been sick. I agreed that her daughter had to come first. I conceded that twice was coincidence and that she had a right to one more chance.

"How about you decide? Decide where we go and what we do."

We fucked and fucked again until it was once again a half hour past the time for me to go. We had always done that.

I finnished dressing and kneeled down before her my head in her lap.

"So have you come up with any ideas? Ideas on where we can go on our date?"

No, she didn't.

"Any ideas? Any at all? No ideas at all of what you want to do with me?" I begged.

No, she didn't.

I stood, my shoulders where limp and there was no strength left in my body. I put a hand on the back of her head and kissed her on the brow. I told her goodbye.

I walked away. I turned around once to see her sitting on the bed looking at me with wide eyes.

I didn't cry. It felt very improper that I didn't cry until I got home.

And that's the story of the first woman I was ever with.
© Copyright 2004 Mister Blank (dragom at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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