Listen to this song while you read!
We met at a dance in high school, he was one of my friend’s two dates. Gregg went to a boys private school and I was glad to meet someone outside of my immediate social circle. We grinded semi-innocently that night, successfully catching each other’s attention. He was a senior and I was a junior, I remember being smitten by his pronounced chin, fun demeanor, and cute blonde hair. During the dance’s king and queen announcement, we sat in the corner and talked about Incubus, a mutual music favourite.
That night nothing happened even though I unabashedly wanted it to. Later that month, I asked him to be my date to prom and he said yes. We got hot and heavy a few times in between there, but I hadn’t lost my virginity yet and wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be him.
Prom was epic. I wore a short brown ruffled and rouched halter dress. $8 at Value Village, score! He wore the normal suit thing, but his huge glittering ear stud made him stand out. He was the white boy who could breakdance and we were the couple who had the circle form around us while he twirled, dipped, and swung me in various nefarious ways.
That night we were too exhausted to partake in any post-prom shenanigans, the whole group of us laid around until the sun rose and IHOP opened shop. But the next night we found ourselves parked in the SUV on a quiet street, Gorillaz wafting out of the moonroof as he went down on me. I curled back in my seat as I erupted moans from his tongue’s motion. I inhaled the spring air while he inhaled my pussy, I twitched and stirred and lost control for the first time in a long time.
He wanted to have sex that night. I sort of did too. But we didn’t have a condom, so I let the opportunity pass me by. After that night he was less interested in me. Which was fine because less than two weeks later I met the guy I ended up dating for over a year.
Fast forward a year and a half.
I’m back from my first semester at university, Gregg’s back from the west coast. He strapped AK-47 to his balls to get it through airport security. Literally the night before this Anthony and I had our stoned multi-position acrobatic sexcapade. Gregg and I left our friends to go enjoy some bong hits on a side street. It was freezing but we bundled up with the moonroof open, watching the stars listening to ‘Morning View’ with smoke blowing out the top. I was having flashbacks to the night before, but the album was taking on new significance.
Later, we conspicuously left separately. I had already told my friends (including Gregg) about Anthony and they were incredulous, yet found it hilarious. I wanted to fuck Gregg but the word “slut” kept ringing in the back of my mind. He parked his car, went in to let his crazy-controlling parents know he was home on time, and then snuck back out.
We stopped in a strip mall parking lot off the highway. The engine was off, the conversation died down, and the kisses flew. As I straddled onto his lap, I reclined the seat back. “How smooth of you,” he commented.
I loved his lips, they were the unending full type that made you kiss deeper without hesitation. I started ‘Make Yourself’, the alt rock beat riled. We started a clothes pile in the back seat. I remembered his body, that of a dancer. Lean, not visibly muscular, solid. His cock…smooth lines, long, circumcised. Still my favourite.
My arms gripped the headrest as I lowered myself onto him. We smiled and moaned at the same time, this had been a fucking two year wait. My face flushed as the winter air hung around me and my body exploded with heat. Slow lifts at first as I got used to his head hitting my cervix. Then, speeding up as I realized I was on top of my long-desired man. Soon after, my pussy spilled fluid as he wiggled his finger on my clit.
He gripped my hips and pushed me as far down onto his shaft as possible, little thrusts sending me deeper and deeper onto his body. After nearly coming from the close fucking, he slowly pulled my body off.
I flipped underneath and as he entered with sudden force, I yelled out a large, “FUCK.” My legs entwined behind his neck and his fingers gripped the passenger’s handle for intense leverage. From then on he shocked me with how hard he could fuck.
The lyrics of “Stellar” rang through the stereo: “How do you do it? Make me feel like I do. How do you do it? It’s better than I ever knew.” He flicked open my delirious eyes and mouthed the words to me as his shaft slid through me.
His dick was a pleasure device that banged into me at increasing speeds, matching the songs we both knew so well. I rubbed my nipples, tickled my clit, tongued his chest, thrust upward to meet his pounding. His moans rivaled mine. Snow accumulated around the car. After an hour of his ceaseless blasting of my pussy, he burst. I’d never seen him smile like that before.
He laid his face on my chest, fingers tracing the contours of my ass, the muscles in my legs, the flesh of my belly. Gregg’s naturally wandering hands single him out as a top-notch lover. We cuddled and chatted for warmth. A snow plow that roared right next to my car and naked body signaled it was time to go. I turned on the window wipers to clear the snow. One layer disappeared, but another remained. I went to wipe off the glass and realized…a solid layer of ice has formed on the inside of the car.
We couldn’t stop laughing. We hadn’t realized our sex was that hot! But it was. And it only got hotter over the next year and a half.
I don’t have the best long-term memory. I have to memorize via association for anything to actually stick. But despite barely remembering what I learned last semester, song beats and lyrics come naturally to me. I can listen to a song twice or thrice and have most of the words and melody embedded for up to five years.
This means that when I have sex with music playing, I remember it with a significantly enhanced clarity. I recall tiny details, such as exactly when the foreplay ended and the penetration began, when I orgasmed…it’s mad. Some of my partners have been completely defined in my mind by what discographies we fucked to.
Here’s a small sampling. Longer stories of these mystery partners will be revealed in due time.
‘Chutes Too Narrow’ intense love-making to The Shins with my long-term high school boyfriend; don’t worry, my vaginal expansion is not too narrow, it’s just tight enough…
Secret New York City sunrise fucking to Radiohead’s ‘In Rainbows’…
Ridiculous amounts of Incubus sex, every album except for Fungus Amongus in various states of non-sobriety (oh and seriously click that link, music video of a very fun-looking swinger’s club)…
Cheeky Kate Nash enjoyment, I would describe his cock as ‘Made of Bricks’…
We’ll continue these shenanigans later.