She stumbled into my shitty little apartment, laughing as she walked through the door.
"This is it, "I said. "What do you think?"
"Yup, it's small and shitty, "she responded, "Just like you said it would be."
"You want a drink," I laughed. "It seems like you need another."
"Rum and coke?"
"You bet," I said as I walked over and started making her a drink.
Theresa and I had dated a few years back in high school before she broke my heart. We had both headed off to college and were back for the summer. I was a junior and she had just finished up her freshman year. It was good to see her, and she still looked pretty damn good. She was wearing a blue dress that showed off plenty of cleavage but not a lot of leg since it came down to her knees. She had awesome breasts. She always had. They were big and perky and I fondly remembered sucking on them back when we dated. What really completed the outfit, though, was the strappy black heels she was wearing.
We had met at a party earlier that night. She had been in an off-again, on-again relationship with a friend of mine for a few years so, typically, I stayed away from her, not wanting to complicate things. That night, though, had been extra flirty, probably because of the alcohol. As the night moved on, I asked her if she wanted to come back to my place... just to see my new apartment. She agreed and we headed on over.
I brought her her drink and we sat down on the sofa. We started talking about old times, reminiscing for about twenty minutes. Eventually, the talk turned to sex. Who had done what, what we were good at, etc. She made reference to her blowjob skills, something she was awfully proud of.
"Oh," I said. "You think you are pretty good at that, do you?"
"Yeah," she said. "You certainly didn't complain."
I laughed a bit and said, "Well, if you get a complaint, you've really managed to fuck it up pretty bad because a bad blowjob is still pretty damn good."
"Are you saying I wasn't good?"
I didn't really know how to answer. I was Theresa's first and, honestly, it was only ok. She didn't really know what she was doing and, though it still felt pretty good, it wasn't great. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, though, so I just said, "Yeah, you were great."
She obviously noticed my hesitation, despite my best efforts.
"What?" she said. "Are you kidding me right now? What was wrong with it?"
"Nothing was wrong with it, Theresa. It just was a little awkward. I was your first, right? So you didn't really know what you were doing. It's no big deal. I still liked it and you definitely got me where I wanted to go."
Honestly, she looked genuinely sad when I told her this. I didn't want to make her feel bad. I was just being honest but, apparently, she cared about this more than I realized.
"I'm sorry." I said. "Don't feel bad. It was wonderful. Honestly. I was inexperienced too and it was really special to me. It felt great. I loved it. I still fantasize about it sometimes."
There was an awkwardness that took over the room at that point and neither of us really knew what to say. I asked her if she wanted another drink and she said sure. I went to the other room and made her another rum and coke, still feeling bad about how the conversation was going. I really wished I hadn't hesitated.
I brought her the second drink and, as I handed it to her, she snapped, "I want another shot."
"What?" I gasped.
