And If The People Find...

"Sorry, what's the problem? Why did you come here?"

"I... I'm a virgin..." she said.

Well, it was NOT a good reason! Or maybe it was? It had been a good one for me, after all. But, one moment, I was a man... Maybe I was seeing the future? The mothers who accompany the daughters to their first experience? Unlikely, but, you never know...

"It had been your mother's idea?"

"Sort of... she said she doesn't want me to confuse love with sex, with curiosity... She does not want me to do it with someone who will hurt me... physically or... emotionally..."

"And why me? What do I have to do with any of this?" I asked. She shrugged.

"She says you are clever... And correct..."

Well, just as Edgar Lee Master said:

"And if the people find you can fiddle, why,

fiddle you must, for all your life..."

This time it was really a delicate job. It's always delicate to be the first man for a girl. Delicate and damn difficult. I don't say 'rare'; there is always a 'first man'. I say 'difficult'. Hard to do. I mean, hard to do it well.

I don't understand why so many people are so eager to be 'the first'. Morally, it grants less than you think (do you know how many things a girl can do, just remaining 'intact' between the legs?). Practically, it's not such an amateurish job. And we all are 'amateurs', in this trade. Especially when you are young... However, it was up to me...

I didn't ask her if she really wanted to start her sexual life right there, and right with me. You can take the horse to the water, but you can't make him drink. If she was there still, and did not run away, well, she wanted to drink.

So the question was not 'if', but 'how'.

I didn't know what to do, but suddenly it hit me. I started chatting with her, personal tastes, likes and dislikes, and in the meantime, I opened the faucets of my tub. Thank God, I had cleaned it two days before...It was indispensable, for what I had in mind...

When the tub was half-filled, I invited her to undress and get into the water with me. She was surprised, but not puzzled nor disgusted. It was not trivial after all, just different.

I lay beneath, since I was heavier. The water was warm, without being boiling hot. It was not a Jacuzzi, but she liked it all the same. And she liked to lay over me. I was filling my hands with the warm water and pouring it on her belly, her nipples, and her pubes. She smiled.

"Does every man do that?"

"Every man who wants to leave a good memory of himself to the woman," I said.

"Did you read it anywhere?"

"No. To be fair and honest, I am improvising pretty much."

And it was the truth, all the truth, nothing but the truth... And she laughed.

"I like it!" she said.

Great: "Improvise, adapt yourself, overcome." 'Gunny' Highway...

We rested in the tub until the water became a bit cold, then we got out and dried each other with two big towels. Our bodies knew each other enough already. I looked at her, she looked at me, and we both liked what we were seeing. Her boobs were swollen, her nipples erect, and so was something of mine, down there... And she smiled looking at that.

At that point we were still able to abort the whole operation, but it was our last chance to do so. So I asked her if she really wanted to go to the bitter end.

She looked in my eyes, smiling, and hugged me, with her arms and with her legs. Down with the doubts... "Alea iacta est"... The dice are rolling...

I carried her to the bed, risking a stumble a couple of times, and this just made her laugh. Then we fell on my sofa-bed (again, blessing my laziness). I hugged and kissed her from her hair to her breasts, and she let me do it. I knew it was not time to go full throttle. She was not yet ready. I just kept kissing her through all her strike zone, from her neck to her knees and back, without skipping anything.

She was smiling, chuckling and sighing. When I reached her sex from below, kissing her thighs, she just widened her legs, without saying a word. I looked at her, she smiled, nodding, and I went for it.

She had a good taste, salt and sweet at the same time. And no complaints about how I was kissing her. I licked her inside, as far as I could, and then again, no reproach, no hands pushing away my head or covering her pubes. She was not chuckling anymore, she winced and jolted a bit, but I had her full approval...

I kissed her inside and out, above and below, to the left and to the right. You know, there is very more than a hole around there... You just have to take your time and use your brains, your fantasy, and there are lots of places to kiss, to... Yes, even the inner side of the thighs, why not? Just because you don't see anything, no hair, no flesh and everything, it does not mean that she doesn't feel anything if you kiss her there. Just the opposite...

Her taste grew stronger and stronger, and her voice was sweeter and sweeter. She started asking me to take her, quickly, but I did not do it. 'Hey, son, d'you want to try for the big top?'... Well, say it 'the big top'... I decided to try it, before going on. This way, all would be easier later for her.

She got to the 'Big Top', and then I took her, slowly, but firmly. Maybe she noticed when she became a woman, or maybe not. Anyway, she did not complain, and she let me ride her, smoothly till the end. Nothing but this, no aerobatic flights. She was there just to take her licence, so to say. And it seemed to me she had enjoyed her first flight.

Being in doubt (I know, I know, it's a foolish question), I asked her if she got the "Big Top" again when I was inside her. She was unsure. Yes, she felt something tickling, deep inside, but... Maybe yes, maybe no.

Well, the first time, almost no girl really gets to the top. 'Maybe' was good enough, for me.

She got showered and dressed, and I accompanied her to the door, with my boxer upon just in case. Before she went out she looked at me. "It has been like to do it with a friend. A REAL friend," she said, smiling. A good compliment, since just two hours before neither of us was conscious of the existence of the other.

We met each other some other times. Each time, we made sex, and each time she paid for it. I wanted to make it clear that she was only a client for me. A good, nice client, but only a client. For a real affair, she had to look elsewhere, preferably among the boys of her age.

And one fine day she found a boy of her age, or about, who treated her as I did, in bed and out of it. And for free. She came to tell me about that, and we kissed each other goodbye, without passing by the bed. I think she is happy now.

And then...

Well, let's face reality; I had a confession to make: "that" is not my real job. To say it better, "that" is NO LONGER my real job.

I have been quite lucky. I graduated, I got a master, I sent around my CV, and then I found a good job abroad, in Europe. I had written in my CV that I spoke some languages and that I was willing to travel, and I have traveled. Not really 'each and every highway', but quite a lot, in and out of Europe. I saw lots of places, met lots of people and knew lots of women, some even biblically. Always free of charge for them, of course.

And at the end of the day, I met the one who got me to sign the exclusive.

How she is? Well, she is blonde, tall, with blue, slightly almond-like eyes, and she speaks Italian very well, beside two or three other languages, including her own, of course.

It was she who persuaded me to change firms. She did not want to leave her country, at least, not for good (you know, "The deer hunter", Christopher Walken and Robert De Niro, 'I love this fucking place'...). And I, well, I was really besotted. Really, really besotted. And so I am still.

She introduced me to the 'staff office' of the firm she worked for. I had some doubts, frankly speaking, some prejudices, but it all went very professionally. An interview, in English, a serious proposal and a good wage. Really good. They were interested in someone who had experiences in Europe, and I had them.

Where were they from? Well, do you know which country that is not really Europe and it's not really Asia? What? Turkey? Wrong, try again...

Don't you believe it? Yes, I am a foreign (Italian) professional working in Russia. For a Russian firm. And I am not the only one. We are not millions, just some thousands, or maybe tens of thousands. 'We few, we happy few, we 'rank of brothers'... Yes, I am happy. Maybe not exactly with the job, or the company, or the country. But who cares? No matter what, I am.

What? Did I tell her about my past job? Well, she did not ask me too many details, and I did not give them to her. Don't ask, don't tell, you know... I think she had understood that I have had, say, some experiences with women, the first time we slept together. But I guess she did not mind that.

On the other hand, she too was not a virgin (and I did not expect she was). Maybe she had had less chance to practice sex than me. I showed her some things she had not experienced yet (in her country, many men dislike doing that), and now I sometimes repent of it, because... well, it's good when your wife gives chase in bed, but sometimes you are quite tired... However, I wish you all would have such reasons to 'repent'.

Did I repent having had so many women, and for money too? Well, I try to be a good husband, with everything that that implies; including love and faithfulness to my wife (it's not so hard, indeed). But my past is only "mine". And I don't feel any shame for it.

And when I want to remember all those gentle ladies, and what I did with her, well, I do it.

But, you know the song:

"So you tell 'em you remember but they know it's just a game

And along the way their faces, all begin to look the same..."

To all of them, however, goes my deep gratitude. And my wife's too.

For all they have taught to me... Uh?

Oh, no, honey...AGAIN?