You’re touching his face in a way you’ve never touched it before. It feels warm and soft, and you have a feeling you’re doing it wrong, but it feels so good, you decide to let that feeling go.
His arms are reaching to the skin below your waist, under your shirt, right next to your back dimples. His fingers tickle you, but it’s the first time you don’t mind it; you don’t even try to laugh this time.
His lips are soft and yours are a little wet. You are aware that he can feel your belly that you know is not flat, but you don’t care this time. You have a nice feeling of coziness and contentment, even though the boy makes you hornier than a bull.
He knows what you like. You’ve told him a million times. He knows how to kiss you and he’s done it a million times. You know he loves you; he’s told you a million times. He doesn’t know you love him, too.
As he takes off your shirt, you think about the lump you feel in his pants. As he takes off your jeans, you think he has to have a condom or you’ll break down and just stop caring. As you take off his shirt, you think about his perfect abdomen you know he’s worked hard to get, even though you always told him that he’s hot. When you take off his pants you realize the upside of his being a cyclist.
You’re both naked and he is all up for it. You’re wondering for a second if this is really a good idea, but you moan the thought away when he kisses your neck. He asks you if you’re sure you want to do this and you mumble a “fuck you” and tell him to just shut up and enter you. Your virgin mind is surprised you’re this determined and you have a surprise when he goes in. It hurts and you know there’s going to be blood, but you can’t think about this now.
He’s gentle and his hands wander on your back; they go up to your shoulders and pin yours down, leaving you completely vulnerable; you don’t even mind. You know that he knows what he’s doing and you like what he’s doing.
He takes care that you reach the high point because he knows he’s your first, and then he makes sure he will always remember the face you made when you came; it’s a beautiful face, all happy and careless. He lets you know after a few days when he can’t take it anymore and he has to talk about it.
He gets off you and holds your hand. You want to go home, but he lives half an hour away from you and you just know you’re not going to find a ride this time of night.
When he thinks you’re asleep, he buries his head in your hair and tells you he loves you. You already know that, but you can’t tell him you love him back. This wasn’t your plan all along; this was supposed to be free of feelngs.
You think about it for two straight hours, reliving every moment in your mind, even though you’re next to him and the space between his breaths hasn’t changed since he grabbed your hand; he’s not sleeping. You lean your head closer to him and kiss him; he kisses back.
He slowly grabs your hair and pulls it; he knows you like it. You get up on top of him and discover a whole new part of you.
The morning after is awkward and silent. He throws the sheets into a trashcan and asks you if you want a ride. You consider taking a cab, but you’ll break down in tears before you reach your house. You eventually accept the ride.
When he drops you off he asks you if it’s going to be weird between you and him from then on. He was your first and you know you’re always go-ing to remember him. The only boy you ever truly loved took your virginity. You give him a peck on the lips and tell him “it’s just sex” even though you both know it was more than that, but neither of you is willing to admit it.
He pretends he doesn’t know the face you make when you come for the next week and you do the same until you both get invited to a party and end up fucking again. This time, he isn’t gentle and slow—he’s passionate and he knows what he wants. You know what you want, too.
The day after, he invites you for coffee at your favorite spot and he kisses you when he picks you up. You’re wearing his favorite dress and he’s wearing your favorite cologne.
You chat about your life lately and he asks you, jokingly, how your love life is going. You both laugh because you’re happy you lost your virginity to your best friend.
When you tell him how much you love the coffee there, he smiles and tells you how much he loves you. You smile a bit and count the ups and downs, then give up and let out an “I love you, too” that sounded more like a deep breath than the phrase you wanted to tell him for the past two years.