After it happened, I sensed a great deal of tranquility take me over; no more hunting more a mate, no more lonely toiling.
If I wanted to, I could have accomplished this feat long ago with 21 years of age. But I believe in something called integrity.
I told myself if I was going to do it, then I was going to do it with someone I love and not for purely physical reasons. I was going to wait long enough until I felt comfortable with her and Goddammit, it was going to be romantic, not slutty.
Given I was raised using fear tactics of rape instead of images of love-making, each gradual stripping of clothing was allowed only by a constant asking, "May I do this...?" She never told me to touch her anywhere, but she never said "no" either.
The experience as a whole was saved in part due to how I like her as a person and the constant kissing, which reminded me the proper meaning of sex. In truth, it wasn't as enjoyable for me as it was my partner, likely due to the condom.
After it all, we took a shower and later a bath together while listening to jazz. That was magical.