NOTE: Readers often ask if my stories are true. In almost all my stories there are just specs of the real me in them. Most are just naughty fantasies I wish I had the chance to live. This story is my first true story I am going to tell ... well mostly true ... you can use your imagination to decide what is and isn't true. It is a story that looks at my first love and our reunion, albeit very brief, three years after breaking up.
NOTE 2: A super special thanks to Estragon for his copy editing work.
Do you ever wish you could just go back in time and do things over, knowing all you know now?
Like wouldn't it be sweet to get in your supped up Delorian and go back to your teens and early twenties and redo some of your past mistakes? Of course, you would ... we all would. We were really fucking stupid back then, even though we thought we knew everything. Of course, I thought with the wrong head ninety-nine percent of the time and didn't know a fucking thing about women. Shockingly, reading Maxim doesn't give you the true insight you think it should.
Well now in my mid-twenties, I have learned many things, most completely irrelevant to this story, I won't get into a big the world according to Mike (although it is suffice to say that on it's own would make a riveting read). What I have learned that is relevant to this already meandering tale is that women are just as big of perverts and just as horny as we are. They just do a much better job of hiding it.
For example, when girls are alone together they can be just as foul- mouthed and sexually detailed as us men. Mind you, they do actually have other conversations as well, while men focus on sex, sports, cars and not getting sex. Men call that staying focused.
So what is the point of all this rambling? Well, I recently bumped into my ex-fiancé, a woman I dated for seven years before we mutually, more me than her, broke it off. We agreed to meet for supper and catch up later that night and that got me reminiscing about our past.
Funny thing, reminiscing. We tend to remember only the good things and easily forget why we broke up in the first place. I remembered fondly her smile, the way she laughed, her long legs almost always in pantyhose or stockings and that she was a pretty good little minx in the bedroom.
I recalled how she was rather shy and timid at first, each of us being virgins when we started dating in our senior year in high school. Truthfully, we dated for over a year before we went further than heavy petting and marathon make out sessions. Christ, I was nineteen when I finally lost my virginity on her eighteen birthday. But like relationships often do, life got in the way.
When we were in the bedroom life was good, but that became less and less as time moved on. For all her great traits, her one major flaw drove me nuts. She was incredibly high strung and stressed about every little thing, which is the complete opposite to how I work. I always thought she would eventually change. For example, when she finished college and got a teaching job, but then the new stresses were lesson plans and marking. It was always something.
After graduating college, she got a teaching job three hours away, while I continued my schooling in medicine. Distance will always play havoc on a relationship, and ours was no different. We still saw each other every couple of weeks, but things were beginning to unravel. During the summer, I suggested we take some time off and she didn't fight it. I got busy in my internship and screwing nurses, while she did whatever she did. I called this my slut phase as I refused to exclusively date anyone, instead choosing to play the field. It was during this time I learned that women were just as sexually devious as men. It was also during this experimental period that I realized Jasmine was submissive and I, being too nice a guy, had missed so many obvious signs in my inexperienced younger days.
Seeing Mike brought back every insecurity and unfinished feeling I had kept buried the past three years. Mike was my first love and although I had dated a couple guys since then, none compared to him. He was funny, sexy, intelligent, well-mannered and great in bed. Also, all I am sure odd, his scent alone was a turn on. When I moved away from him to teach, I actually took his pillow so I could still be close to his scent.
The thing was we never really broke up. We took a break and next thing you know one year becomes three and you are left wondering what happened and where the time has gone.
I had hoped he had turned into a fat slob or something, so that when the inevitable bump into each other occurred, I could clearly be the one who had moved on.
When I saw him in the hotel lobby, though, I realized it was me who never moved on. I still wore stockings or pantyhose almost every day, something I did originally because it was his fetish. Even odder, he insisted I only wear sheer, sandlefoot stockings as he wanted to clearly see my toes at all times, which I still wore. He was a leg and toe freak and pleasing him so long with this attire, I had become a stocking freak too.
Thus, it was ironic that when I bumped into him after all these years, I was in jeans, just having got off a three hour flight, the day before Valentine's Day.
I flashbacked to our lengthy relationship. He was my first serious boyfriend, and the boy I lost my virginity to. He was my first and only true love. Even now with other men, I, although unfair, compare them to him.
At one point we were to be married. We even had our two children's names picked out: Ethan and Savannah.
One last problem was we were both each other's firsts and onlys. When I moved away to teach I began having doubts. Would he be the only one I ever was intimate with? The longer we were apart, the more curious I became. Plus, no matter how much I hinted that I needed to be told what to do, he never caught on. I realized he was too nice to treat me like the submissive slut I fantasized about. I myself didn't understand it, but I craved being told what to do, to just let go and be submissive. It was the complete opposite of how I lived the rest of my life where I had to be in control of everything. Things had to be perfect and structured. I needed order to be comfortable or I stressed out. I admit it, I am somewhat high maintenance. That was probably why I craved the complete letting go in the bedroom, but Mike never caught on to my many obvious hints.
Dating lots of women over the past three years I learned a lot and one thing I learned is that often women in positions of power or authority often are very submissive in the bedroom. I wondered on occasion, when I thought about Jasmine, or watched any of our five different porn videos we made and I kept, if she was submissive. She didn't fit the textbook definition in regards to her job, but in retrospect she definitely had some tendencies which had me wondering. When I was nineteen such a concept wasn't even on the radar, but now many years and experiences later, it kind if made sense. In retrospect, there were many hints given by Jasmine that younger inept me never caught on to.
For example, she is still one of only two women to allow me to videotape some of our sexual encounters. Of course, all but one included a fair amount if wine, but still she willingly allowed me to tape her sucking my cock, fucking her trimmed but hairy pussy and me going down on her. On top of that, she always wore pantyhose or stockings for me. When we went out, when we were driving on a trip and even at home when we were lounging around. No women since had been so accommodating to my stocking and foot fetish.
Lastly, I recalled one nightcap particular. We had broken up. Like we often did, but this time she had begun seeing some other dude. It had only been a couple weeks and I was pretty sure she hadn't done anything too extreme with him yet. It was December and college finals so she was pretty stressed out. Once finals were done, she headed home to spend the holidays with her father and three siblings. To Jasmine's surprise, I was already at her dad's house having coffee when she arrived. As expected, she had not yet told her dad about our break-up. Her father loved me and thus I decided to try and win her back.
.... There is more of this story ...