My First Time

I remember my first time fondly. How could I forget? I was a young man, just coming into my body. It seemed like every day I could feel myself getting bigger, stronger, more of a man. This just helped propel me along the way.

Of course, it was awkward at first. There was a lot of fumbling around. I seemed to never know where to put my hands. I'd have to stop often and start over. The worst was being criticized every time I had to start over. At first, I was a little embarrassed, but with each criticism and each restart, I put my mind to getting better at it. Like so many other things in life, it required a lot of concentration and focus in order to get the job done right and done well.

I was young and full of energy, and so I made the mistake of not pacing myself. I was spent far too soon. I lay there and rested, trying to catch my breath, ready to go back in. I remember the sheen of sweat covering my skin. It was hot, and with every moment, every time our bodies were mashed together, it seemed to get hotter in a literal and figurative sense. The warm July sun was shining down on our bodies, adding to the heat and giving our bodies a youthful and powerful glow.

After I caught my breath and grabbed a quick drink, I was finally ready to get back in the game. I dove back in with reckless abandon and a zealousness that only youth could capture. I was fast, I was hard, I was tough. I learned how to use my hands, where to put them. I discovered that I could use my legs, thrust forward explosively with them, use them to my advantage to be stronger and faster and harder. I grunted, trying to capture the essence of my masculinity.

Finally, I broke free. I looked up, into a pair of blue eyes, and made a connection. It was like we were one. My hands closed around, and I drew it to my chest, holding it tight. My hands caressed the object of my desire lovingly, my arms wrapping around and cradling, keeping it close to my body. I could hear the breathy exhortations, "Yes, yes, yes...go, go, go!" And then finally it happened. I had scored. Exhausted, jubilant, sweaty from the effort, I collapsed onto the ground, a great smile on my face, beaming from ear to ear. A rushing was in my ears, and I tried to speak, but I was still panting so hard that I couldn't really put my thoughts into words. It was heavenly. It was bliss. It was wonderful.

Yep, I'll never forget my first football practice.

A Double Shot of Birthday Wow!

Today is a very special day for the women in my family. In case you don't remember what today is, let me remind you with this bodily-fluid enhanced post from last year, wherein I describe one rather unpleasant day all around.

So, today is my daughter's 8th birthday, which means she can sit in the front seat of the car. Oh, special indeed. It's also a special day in my wife's life, as she turns 29, which is traditionally the last birthday a woman has for the rest of her life. Which is good, because in about three years, I'd have to trade her in for two 16-year olds. What? That's how it works, right?

Anyway, we've got some birthday happiness being slung around the olde Jenksatorium today. There'll be singing and dancing and general debauchery...and then I'll get home and cook some steaks. Yeah, me! Provider of meat.

Oh, wait, I should talk about my wife's birthday present on Thursdays...right, right, right. Sorry about that. Did I mention she likes her steak with Bearnaise? Yeah, she loves a big slab of hot meat to come with a rich, creamy sauce. Mental image time!

That leads me into a little story. You've got time, right? Good.

When we were first married, the wife and I used to like going at it hot and heavy, which is to say that we'd do it like, once a week or something. I know. Animals. That is apparently the image my father-in-law had of us, because whenever he'd call, the conversation would start the exact same every single time. It'd go like this:

Me: Hello.
Father-in-Law: Hi, Matt.
Me: Oh, hey!
F-I-L: Am I interrupting anything?

This went on for months, probably almost a year. It was kind of ridiculous, because who would answer the phone during a Rousting Bout of Hide the Pickle, anyway? Priorities, people!

Anyway, one day I answered the phone while my wife was in the other room, so I decided to have some fun. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: Hello.
F-I-L: Hi, Matt.
Me: Oh, hey!
F-I-L: Am I interrupting anything?
Me: Oh, no. We just finished up. Want to talk to [name redacted] Boudicca? Here.
*I held the phone away from my mouth so that it sounded like I was talking to someone while fully aware that I was speaking into the mouthpiece*
Me: It's your dad. Oh, hey, you missed some. Yeah, it's right there. By your mouth. Wipe that up with a towel, you don't want to get that on the phone. Well, I guess you can lick it up; that works, too!
*back into the mouthpiece*
Me: Okay, here she is.
F-I-L: *horrified silence*

He's never asked again if he was "interrupting anything."

Tune in next week when I tell you how I got the people from Liberty Baptist Church to stop ringing my doorbell to ask me about Jesus.

Oh, and, felix sit natalis dies to My Wife, the Comely and Buxom and Horribly Embarrased by This Story Boudicca. Don't worry, my little mulier pulchra, I remember that you don't like any pink in the middle of your big slab of hot meat.

And, Happy Birthday to wee Cookie. You better damn well enjoy that gaming system that I hunted all over the motherfucking Triangle for yesterday. Oh, and I'm sorry that the people on Craigslist are completely inept. I'll get that bike for you soon, I promise!