OK. Back on topic.
The first time I had sex -- I don't even think about.
But the first time I made love...it replays in my mind every week, probably every other night.
It was the first time I was introduced to
pleasure pain. Have Mercy! Have you experienced that ladies? Praise the powers that be for creating that!! Hurt me!
Anyway. His strength made me feel soo safe like I was underneath the most powerful man in the work and no harm could get to me (except him). It was beautiful and left me trembling.
I was 'taken' whereas in the past I'd only 'did it'
It was physical, emotional, psychological, spiritual, chemical. Ahh!
Anyway, that was the love of my life. We are not together. And I will miss him until the day I die. I always felt like I wanted to crawl through my skin and touch his soul when we would make love. So intense. And yes, I remember all the sounds, touches, and repartee.
He ruined it for any lover that followed, and is the main reason why I'm celibate now. He could command a bed and everyone else seems weak in comparison. Also, the love was so layered ...that I don't want to share such an overwhelming and vulnerable experience like that unless I'm married or at least engaged.
I don't have words to describe the non-physical part of it. But the physical part was very much 'Me Tarzan, you Jane.' I know the old-school feminists won't like that...but as a neo-feminist I love it.
He was hardcore masculine. I miss him.