We started stripping each other of our clothes, but took care not to rush; I was having too much fun kissing him... making him moan. I teased him, trying out my new hipbone-biting trick, until he grabbed me and pulled me down. The preposterousness of the situation dawned on me as I peeked at Jake, and I had to stifle a giggle.
After fooling around to the point of madness, I asked Jake if he had a condom.
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"No… I could go ask Tom."
"ABSOLUTELY NOT." The tormenting will be bad enough without that, thank you. The Condom Commandments
We didn't end up having sex, but both of our needs were taken care of extremely well. The next day, he left to go back to grad school, and I was left with wonderful memories, as well as dread for the inevitable fallout with his brother.
But things weren't so bad with his brother. Maybe he couldn't help but respect the new swagger in my step. I don't know. We don't talk about it.
That magical night continues to affect my day-to-day life. Girls acquire an insecurity complex in middle school that follows them throughout life. But now, the boy I had once worshiped had assured me that I was definitely cute back then, and am certainly easy on the eyes now, putting to rest my self-conscious past and replacing it with a much more confident reality.
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And did I mention my new sex-goddess status among the girls of my grade? The few girls I still keep up with peppered me with intimate questions and passed along the details to other middle school friends, cementing my legendary standing. One girl insisted, "Tell me he was a good kisser. God, lie to me if you have to. Just tell me he was a good kisser." Could something this built-up really be bad? Could Jake Ryan really disappoint me even if he was a sloppy kisser? I suspect not. It didn't matter though; no lies were necessary. I got to tell her that it was everything we used to dream about.