I too would say that my purest connection to pleasure doesn't come from my first experiences which were quite bad and should best be forgotten. The one I remember the most was first time I truly felt the heat of another, I was nearly twenty.
After losing my virginity, I never let anybody get even remotely close, even a hug from someone to aggressive was too much for me. Yet I still managed to have a regular boyfriend who was okay with my space issues. He was very patient, and after a while I could even sleep in his arms for a whole night. One of my friends had gone off to the city for university, during reading weeks I would house sit for her while she went off to spend some of her scholarship money doing research. It gave me access to a top floor loft apartment just outside the city. It was a welcome change from the basement apartment I lived in but it was stiflingly hot.
My boyfriend had driven me downtown and stayed for a weekend sleepover. We dined in a little pub by the park and perhaps it was the beer or the sauna my friend called a bedroom but we couldn't sleep. We moved out to the balcony with our sleeping bags in the cool air under the stars. He drifted off almost immediately but I just stayed awake watching wispy clouds drift across the black sky while my fingers explored his body, the hard corners over bone, the muscles, the way his butt curled back in, I remember them all. I loved the firmness of his chest, the way the muscles ran across his ribs and the ridges where they finished up. The way his brown nipples would stiffen when my fingers traced their edges.
It still makes me tingle now thinking about them and I can see it all when I close my eyes.
