You Never Forget Your First Time
I was in the backseat with Billy. The first time I’d ever been there with a boy. Fay and Amber had talked about what it was like, but the whole thing seemed gross. I couldn’t imagine doing what they were talking about.
I’d met Billy through tennis. We were both on our varsity teams and had entered some mixed doubles tournaments together. He was nice as boys go, and things were becoming serious.
We were making out when he tried to take it further.
“I’m not ready for that,” I said.
“But don’t you love me?”
“Of course. Just… not that. Not yet.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got a better idea.”
He reached down onto the car’s floor and then unexpectedly held up his Babolat Pure Drive tennis racket.
“You’re going to like this,” he said, nodding toward the racket, then beginning to rub it gently across my skin.
“What are you doing?” I asked, thinking it ridiculous.
“Just relax. trust me.”
He was right. I felt something I’d never felt before. The grommets were cool and firm. The graphite frame moved gently against my collarbone.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, not believing how good it felt.
The strings brushed against my shoulder — slow, deliberate. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever felt. The tension in the strings gave just enough, drawing a long, silent line across my skin like a bow over a cello.
My breath caught.
He moved the racket down, tracing the angle of my shoulder blade. I felt lit from within. Glowing, being worshipped in the language of pressure points and carbon fiber.
I lost track of time — we could’ve been there an hour — when I noticed condensation on the inside of the car windows, saw that the moon had shifted.
And then I whispered, “Let me do it to you.”
He hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Come on,” I said, gently taking the racket. “Just close your eyes.”
I brought the racket to his shoulder. The moment the strings touched his skin, he shuddered.
“Wow, that feels so good,” he said.
We kept trading positions — me rubbing him with the Babolat Pure Drive, him rubbing me, us rubbing ourselves. It was utterly decadent. And fantastic.
At one point, he said, “Let me do your elbow.”
It was pure bliss. My elbow had never been touched like that before.
Suddenly, he stopped.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, beginning to unbuckle his belt.
“Whoa! I thought we agreed —”
“No, trust me,” he said, reaching into his shorts.
I couldn’t believe it. Staring me in the face was the biggest can of tennis balls I had ever seen. I’d heard rumors about cans with four balls — but this one had five! And they were Dunlop Fort Tournaments — the most expensive balls on the planet.
“I’m speechless,” I said.
“Why have three when you can have five? Am I right?” Then he said with a wink, “Now for the open.”
He pulled back the tab and popped the lid.
Pffft!
I can’t describe the sensation I felt in that moment. It eclipsed all prior openings. Ripples of pleasure shot through me when the vacuum seal was released and the smell of the rubber intoxicated me. I was in heaven.
And then, just as quickly, it was gone.
“Do you have another can?” I asked desperately.
He laughed.
“A D’Antonio always comes prepared,” he said, reaching into his shorts again and pulling out a second five-ball can.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Do it!” I nearly screamed.
Pffft!
The waves of pleasure were even more intense this time.
“Do you have another one?” I pleaded.
He laughed again.
“Baby, I can only fit so much in my shorts.”
I was on the verge of something, and I wasn’t about to be denied.
“Make the sound with your mouth.”
“Huh? What?”
“The sound… you know. Of the balls opening.”
“Really?”
“Do it!”
He nodded and gave it his best shot.
“Pffft!”
“No, that’s too low in pitch.”
“Pffft?”
“A little higher!”
“Pffft?”
“Almost there!”
“Pffft! Pffft! Pffft! Pffft!”
That did it. For a moment, I was outside my body, floating in space. I may have blacked out — the sensations were that powerful.
Afterwards, he kept making the sound over and over, but it became annoying.
“Baby, just cuddle me,” I said.
I wish I could tell you that every time was like that. It wasn’t. We’d caught lightning in a bottle.
And I wish I could tell you we lasted longer together, but he committed a serious double fault when he cheated on me with Amber.
“He pulled out his tennis racket and tried to rub it on me,” she said. “What a weirdo.”
Yeah. Maybe.
But you never forget your first time.
—
Care to Share?
Consider posting a note of comment on this item:
—§—
Previous Post
« The Pickleball King of Baton Rouge
—