Some people remember the first kiss, or the first time they said, "I love you."
Not me; I remember coming violently upon his rock hard erection.
I remember clearly how I felt when he tore my dress from my body, and threw me down upon the bed with such carnal passion, I could practically smell it on him. It was in his eyes; the way he looked at my naked body as I landed upon the bed in front of him. He seemed feral, like he was deciding whether to fuck me or kill me. Spoiler -- he fucked me.
He got down on his knees at the foot of the bed, and slid my ass across the silk sheets so that he could place his rugged, stubbled mouth directly upon my wetness. If I think hard enough, I can still feel his tongue upon me, riding up and down my folds, tasting every inch of me. I was wet before he started, but what he did to me drew out so much more. My juices melded with his saliva as he spared no thought for mess, spreading us all about my pussy, my inner thighs, and the bed beneath me.
He locked his lips atop my clitoris and began to suck just ever so gently. I'd never had that done before, and it made my eyes roll into the back of my head as I groaned loud enough to upset the neighbors.
He entered me with two of his fingers. These were lumberjack's fingers, construction worker's fingers; real blue-collar fingers. Gnarled digits that I swear the sex industry has since used to model the shape of their sex toys upon. It was as if they were almost designed to enter my swollen folds, seeking out my eager G-spot as he hooked them around on the backwards motion.
He stimulated my clitoris whilst he teased my G-spot -- I was in heaven, and I felt like I was going to climax then and there.
Maybe he sensed my impending eruption and didn't want me to finish too early, because he sat up and gave me a wry smile, lifting one of his eyebrows in a mischievous way. Was he edging me?