I remember her like the last time I held her in my arms like it was yesterday. I can remember the first time I saw her, the first time I heard her voice.
I remember the first time I felt her smooth, soft skin under my hands and felt her hands on me. I remember her warm breath on my neck the first time I felt myself thrusting inside her, gently at first, then building to a pounding crescendo.
I remember the first time I heard her angelic voice moaning and saying my name as her first orgasm washed over her.
But, I guess, as with all things, it is best to begin at the beginning...
Her name was Heather and she was absolutely gorgeous. We were both 18 and in love.
She was five-feet-eight-inches tall with long, blonde hair and bright, blue eyes. I would later find out how soft her hair was as I would run my fingers through it. Her eyes would open wide and beautiful whenever she was surprised or extremely turned on.
When she laughed, she showed her even, white teeth and would put her pink tongue between them in a girlish giggle that would make me smile no matter how bad my mood.
Her skin was smooth and completely hairless, in stark contrast to my hairy arms and legs. In the summer, she had a deep tan that everyone envied. Strangely, she seemed to have a tan in the winter, too, just not as deep.
She wore this perfume that I never took the time to find out the name of. It was musky and flowery and fit her perfectly. It was intoxication in a bottle to me. All she had to do was walk by me and I was overcome with passion and love.
Her breasts were full and firm, jutting out from her chest and stretching all but the most loose of shirts. Her waist narrowed then flared in a very womanly curve outward along her hips. Her back was a smooth expanse of perfect skin from her golden hair to the firm cheeks of her ass. She had a birth mark on her right cheek in the shape of a car that I would gently kiss during foreplay.
Her long legs were perfectly shaped with taunt thighs and rounded calves. Her feet were small, with toes that could only be described as cute. She would paint her toenails an atrocious shade of pink or purple. I really believe she did this only because she knew I hated it.
All of this was on the outside, but her beauty extended to her personality, too. She had a way of making anyone she talked to feel like the most important person in the world. It was impossible to be truly mad at her, even when she did things she knew would make you mad. She did not do these things to make you angry. She did them because not doing them would mean that she was not being herself and if there was one thing she was, it was her own person.
She had great sense of humor. She was able to laugh at the most innocent child's joke or the raunchiest adult comment. I managed to make her blush once, but only once. She could laugh at herself and laugh at other people without making them feel like she was laughing at them.
She was easy to talk to. She could listen to someone (like me) ramble on for an hour without once stopping them. She could also open up and share herself with people, telling stories in a way that would make people feel like they were actually there.
As if that were not enough, she was smart, really smart. She could talk physics with the nerds and math with the geeks, but she was so popular that no one ever called her a geek or a nerd. She was everyone's friend, but she was my girlfriend.
God, I loved that girl.
Heather and I met at work, like a lot of people, and we both knew there was something there. She felt the same sparks I felt. We would talk as we worked and I have never felt so connected to anyone in my life.
Eventually, not really by any spoken decision, we started going out. I would take her to dinner and movies. She would take me to ride on her father's boat where we would have picnic lunches. I would invite her to my parent's house to play cards with my family. She would invite me to her parent's house for dinner.
We were basically inseparable for a year, doing everything together. Well, almost everything.
Heather was from a very strict religious upbringing. I never pressured her about sex, but she knew that I desperately wanted to make love with her. We were both virgins and I knew I loved her. In my adolescent mind, I thought the most natural thing to do would be for us to have sex, but we disagreed on that. Or, so I thought.
One night we went to a late movie. I don't remember the movie. I remember that she and I could not keep our hands off each other. We sat in the back of the theater and as soon as the lights dimmed, we were on each other.
I could feel that something was going on all day. Heather did not seem herself. I would realize later that she was especially demonstrative with her affection that day. What I mean is that, while she always liked to hold my hand and hug me and kiss me, on that day, she was unusually expressive. I loved it.
In the flickering darkness of the movie theater, Heather and I expanded our limited boundaries of sexual exploration.
We kissed deeply, her hands holding my head, my hands around her as much as the uncomfortable theater chairs would allow.
As we kissed, she moved my hand under her blouse to the perfect skin of her stomach. I was not sure what to do next, so I just gently stroked her stomach. This seemed to be exactly what she wanted as she began to sigh into my mouth and along my neck. Her warm breathe against my neck sent shivers along my spine.
Heather moved her hands under my shirt and began gently stroking my sides and back. Her fingers moved along the peaks and valleys of my ribs. They caressed the lumpy knobs of my spine. I was on fire.
I did not want to force her to do anything, so I let her take the lead. I figured she would tell me what was okay, how far she wanted this to go.
Her hands moved around to the front of my pants and began to stroke my hard cock through the confines of my jeans. I took this as my cue to move my hands up to her perfect breasts.
The thin lace of her bra was rough against my palms. I could feel her nipples, like pebbles, against my fingertips. Her breathing got deeper and her moans lower as I massaged her breasts. I sucked gently on her earlobe and her fingers, the ones not touching my throbbing dick, twined in my hair.
After a while, I felt her hand unbuckle my belt and pull my zipper down. Her soft hand reached into my jeans and coaxed my cock into the open air. It was the first time anyone beside myself had ever touched me there.
As if she knew exactly what to do, Heather's hand formed a warm tunnel for me and she began to stroke me. The pleasure was incredible. I began foolishly thinking that there could not be anything better than this beautiful woman pulling on me.