The Girl

Please join me on my trip in the time machine. On a trip back to one of the most formative sexual experiences of my life. An experience, that has stayed in my mind for almost 15 years and that recently gained actuality.

Way back, in the last century, before myspace or face book, before the ubiquity of the tools we are all acquainted with these days, I was a senior in high school. High school back then was probably not that much different than it is today. I watch some of the movies coming out every year that choose a high school as a setting and sometimes feel reminded of the social environs of my senior year. I wasn't one of the popular kids, but I did play some sports, listened to rock n' roll, did the drugs and tried for the sex the same way most high school kids do. Part of this teenager experience is the longing for THE GIRL. THE GIRL is not just any person of the female persuasion that happens to cross your path, but rather THE GIRL. THE GIRL seems to be unreachable, intangible, ethereal yet so enticing...

In my case THE GIRL was Philomania Lightly. Philo was the smartest person I have yet met. She had already read more books than I could ever hope to read in my life. And that is saying a lot for a bibliophile like myself. Philo was also the prettiest being that I had ever beholden with my eyes. She had what I considered the perfect face, the perfect body, the perfect everything. I think that this perfection is what causes the perceived intangibility and is one of the core features of THE GIRL. Most people have the luck of having a THE GIRL that they only see once in a while, like the neighbors daughter that only comes home to her parents place during vacations, which is great, because the aspiration stays unfulfilled yet is not ever present. I on the other hand had the bad fortune to have my THE GIRL siting in my class almost every hour. I probably only did so good in Math because that was one of the few classes where Philo did not distract me with the pure fact of her presence.

I thank god every day that I am a man (or then boy) of action. So although it took a few years of mesmerization for me tot take the leap, half way through my senior year I did. I gathered together all my courage, borrowed some from my sister and my mom, and called Philo to ask her to the prom. No as every person who has ever been to high school knows, going to the prom together has far reaching consequences. The words "would you go to the prom with me" if answered in the affirmative, immediately make an item of the persons involved.

No I figured that I would ask Philo relatively early since that would leave me with enough time to attempt alternative arrangements like asking my sister, in the inevitable case of rejection. Boy was I surprised when I did not receive the feared yet anticipated rejection. All of a sudden I had a girlfriend on my hands, but not any girlfriend, THE GIRLfriend, which is in itself a thing of impossibility.

Now usually when achieving an elusive, desired goal like THE GIRL, the let down is immense, since the pedestal that THE GIRL has previously been put upon is of such an enormous height, that no real flesh human being has any chance of ever living up to it. In my case the let down was tiny, or actually none existent, since the reality of being able to be with my THE GIRL was more pleasurable than any fancy of the imagination could ever be.

So life was good. Life was charmed. We saw a lot of each other, yet we were both nervous of the others presence. Neither of us knew what should happen now. We obviously now were an item, that was quite clear simply from the fact that we were going to the prom together, but what were the practical consequences of that?

One of those practical consequences was that we decided to go to this party together. The party was at the house of the team captain of the sports team I was on. It was not the sort of things that I usually went to nor was it her usual habitat. But since I was invited solely on the virtue of being a team member, we decided to go. As Julius Caesar supposedly once said: veni, vidi vici; I came, I saw, I conquered; Or in our case more like we came, we saw, we left. I don't know why, but I did not really feel right at that party, and it was obvious, that Philo didn't feel in her element there either. By intense eye contact and the words "let's go" we decided to leave.

Yet where to? We didn't have any plans, nowhere to be, to late for the movies,... We decided to go back to my place since my parents were out of town for the weekend. I don't know how we ended up in my parents bedroom, probably it was the most comfortable place to watch tv in the house. We never did turn the tv on though; making out was just much more interesting.

Tentatively moved my hand from her back to her perfect ass, the ass I had dreamed about on so many nights. Encouraged by her every move our kisses became more intense. My hand slid up her back and along Philo's bra to her small but perfectly shaped breast. Massaging her nipples I used my unoccupied digits to open her blouse intruding on the perfection of my THE GIRL.

Kissing her perfect aureoles my endowment to the coital arts was throbbing with excitement. Slowly groping her nipples with my left my right hand, encouraged by her reaction to its attentions, went on an exploration south. The index finger felt like Neil Armstrong, when it hit her belly button. One small dip in a perfect abdomen for a finger, one giant leap for the level of excitement in our hearts and pants.

Her blouse and bra had left the scene deciding that they would be of no use tonight. Philo's shorts and panties soon followed as my middle finger began to explore the moist folds of her nether lips. Her labia was filled with the passion of the moment literally searching out my busy digits. Philo's slippery cunt pressed hard against my index finger which had intruded deeper into the fold of her opening as my knuckle brushed the tip of her tickler.

A deep moan escaped her lips as she began to take charge of my activities. Guiding my hand I furiously concentrated on her clitoris giving all my fingers could muster. The level of her pleasure was measurable in decibel as the beams of my world began to shake with her screams. I noticed for the first time that it was just as pleasurable giving pleasure as receiving.

As she reached her climax, or at least gave a pretty good imitation of Sally, we embraced and kissed passionately. The first words uttered after catching her breath were: "This was long overdue". To this day I can't even pretend to completely comprehend what the meaning of this simple phrase might have been. Was it overdue that the two of us had shared this experience? Was it overdue that she get her rocks off, it normally happening around 6pm not 10pm? Was it overdue for her to switch from auto-erotic encounters to an encounter involving another being of the same species? I will probably never know.

Whatever the meaning may have been, it was a deeply satisfying experience. She began to put her clothes on as I went to wash my hands. This is when I noticed that my clothes had not really been ruffled, much less removed. Until this night, my erotic encounters had always been a quid pro quo. A I'll suck yours if you suck mine. Not this time. Well actually this time too. I'll give you pleasure if you will take it. If you take pleasure I will have it.

So this encounter taught me a lot of things. For one thing the pleasure that was to be had by giving pleasure without expecting reciprocation. But on a much more practical level, it taught me what actually causes pleasure for a woman. Philo guided my hand and gave it ideas. Ideas of where to roam to achieve the maximum pleasure to my mate.

So what happened after that night? Well my love grew, school drew to a close and we did go to the prom. By that time I was ready to follow her anywhere she would go. The day after the prom I called her, yet she didn't pick up. I wanted to tell her that I would change my college plans to be with her. No-one answered the phone. I went by her house, no-one home. This went on for about two weeks. At which point my plane left for college and I was on it not having spoken to Philo since our prom.

I have not seen her since the day of our prom. I tried to reach her without success. A couple of years later I actually managed to reach her by phone. Although we spoke and I tried to set up a meeting, I got the distinct impression that she had no interest in meeting or really talking.

I moved on and she moved on. I never tried to contact her again, yet I thought of her often. She was actually one of the most important people of my life. Yet having last seen her on a high note, our prom, it wasn't like we broke up and cleared the air, it was like she had vanished in the Bermuda triangle. One second the love of my life, the next second gone. I guess by high school logic we are still a couple.

Well high school logic doesn't hold in the real world. Life has moved on. I have changed, she probably has changed as well. Twelve years after our prom the world has shifted around us. New York had a landmark and a lot of its people erased, the internet came, bubbled and came again. Then one day I get an E-Mail.

Philomania added you as a friend on Facebook. We need you to confirm that you are, in fact, friends with Philomania.

To confirm this friend request, follow the link below:

Thanks,

The Facebook Team

This time it was her that initiated contact, full twelve years after we last saw each other. Enough time for wounds to heal, reopen and reheal. Enough time for love to ebb, but not enough time to forget a great person or loose the affection for her. Enough time for life to change, but not enough to teach a heart to harden.

So dear readers, I have given you a dilemma. I have given you my dilemma. What should I do? If I now resume contact with my THE GIRL, I am setting myself up for disappointment. I have had her in my heart for twelve years now; twelve years that saw her go to college, leave college, get a job, shift her life and her priorities a dozen times. If the fiction of my brain collides with the reality of a changed person, it may well result in an annihilation.

On the other hand, by the simple fact that I am asking these questions, it became apparent that I am not set up for disappointment, because I realize both intellectually and emotionally that we have changed and that while the two people Philofiction and Philoreality may have started out at the same time and place, yet they have evolved separately. Philofiction has evolved separated from Philofiction like the strange mammals of Australia have evolved separated from the rest of the world. Knowing this safeguards me from disappointment.

So I guess I do want her in my life, but what do I expect to happen? What can I expect from all of this? Well it is you dear readers that I, Jacob Sarazzo, am asking this question. I guess there is a worst case scenario: We talk and/or meet and can't stand each other. Well what has changed then? Nothing really, since that would put us back to where we were just a short month ago.

But there is also the best case scenario, we talk, we meet, we mail and we have something akin to a Vulcan mind melt. While not mandatory, it would just be possible, that we can partake in each others life and enhance them by the pure expedient of our mutual influence. While that chance exists I cannot give up.

So how do I go about it? And this is I guess where I would most appreciate your input, dear readers. If I just search for her on google, throw in the phonebook, people search and other online resources, I could probably find out everything about her including her credit rating and try to contact her by any means possible, hoping to evoke some sort of reaction. Do I really want to do this? Well yes, because I want to know what has happened and what has become of her. But that would freak out even the most self assured person. And I don't want that to happen. So I guess I will just try to find out what I can and hope that she takes the next step. If you know of any better way to proceed dear readers, please let me know.