I Love First Touches
Growing up with incredible insecurities and shyness, it took the better part of my life to literally grow into myself. I did not date in high school, barely in college. Fear of rejection, which I knew only too well from much of my school life after my family moved to a (then) tiny rural town, maintained its firm grip on me for far too long.
While it does me discredit, the most memorable first touches, those that inspire this story, were universally in an extramarital context. It was in such a way that I truly felt the magic of a first touch. The tentative move from familiarity to intimacy. A hug that becomes more a slow exploration of a lover's body, a kiss growing into an ex<x>pression of passion and desire. The first sensations of touching and being touched freely, without boundaries or the encumbrance of clothing.
First touches exceed the mere tactile. In the best of circumstances mind and body become as one. At the absolute best even the soul itself becomes part of the mix and there is nothing in the world but two people, their shared moments, and their touch. That first, beautiful, perfect touch.
While it does me discredit, the most memorable first touches, those that inspire this story, were universally in an extramarital context. It was in such a way that I truly felt the magic of a first touch. The tentative move from familiarity to intimacy. A hug that becomes more a slow exploration of a lover's body, a kiss growing into an ex<x>pression of passion and desire. The first sensations of touching and being touched freely, without boundaries or the encumbrance of clothing.
First touches exceed the mere tactile. In the best of circumstances mind and body become as one. At the absolute best even the soul itself becomes part of the mix and there is nothing in the world but two people, their shared moments, and their touch. That first, beautiful, perfect touch.
56-60, M