my sexual awakening

D wasn't my first.  I am starting to doubt that she would be my last.  I was a late bloomer.  I couldn't find the right girl to go to the prom with, so I went with my skinny, tall friend from gym class.  Nobody thought she was terribly attractive, but I just wanted to go and see.  I got a nice little pink corsage and I still remember driving her to that place--the backside of some mega-church, a big ball room full of parents and no alcohol.  I thought it was cool even though deep down I knew it was a sad, lonely place that sat at the boundary between my adolescence with my adulthood.  My date danced with me, made fun of me, hugged me, and kissed my face.  I remember not shaving that night, thinking a little bit of stubble would make me look more masculine, but it was probably not true.  

I remember going back into the car with her.  We kissed passionately.  We licked each other's tongues.  We grabbed onto each other, two lonely souls braiding for that cold spring night.  I fondled her breasts and moved my kisses downward, her neck, her collar bone.  I pulled off her bra and licked her nipples.  I still remember her beautiful small nipples--smaller than D's, but tender and erect, with their wrinkles, exposing themselves ruthlessly with that extreme texture, their bare essence of sensitivity, in my mouth, massaging my lips.  I remember being so hard, so ready to let it all out, and giving myself up to that feeling of heat and sacrilege.  

I remember her pushing me away.  She pulled herself together and told me to take her home.

I remember being in that empty car.  She waved me good bye.  I remember feeling lonely and crying, even though I didn't think that she was necessarily the one for me.  I remember driving into a dark, quiet corner in a neighborhood park, parking under a dense canopy.  I remember the moonlight, and I was bawling.  Then I jerked off.  I pulled off my tuxedo and came all over the dashboard. Pathetically, it was my father's car.  I cried some more after that, wiped it off with my handkerchief and drove home.

I never told anybody and I don't expect anybody to understand.  That was how my adolescent ended, with a rejection and a whimper.  I never talked to her again.