Chapter Nine

Then

I’ll never forget the night Mason and I made love for the first time. It connected us in a way that made him go from being my boyfriend to being my everything. It’s odd that something so common and messy can bond two people for a lifetime.

Maybe it’s because I waited until I was with someone I truly loved, or maybe it was because I was told it was a special act. I’m not sure what it was about having sex with Mason that deepened our bond, but that night has always stayed with me. That night had good and bad moments. But one thing it had was staying power. It was a night I’ll never forget.

It’s odd how memories fade. There are events in life we think we’ll never forget, but years go by and they fade. But the first time you make love to someone is an unforgettable experience, whether it was a good one or not.

I was sixteen years old. I look back now and realize I was too young to be sharing something so intimate with another person. But at that time it felt right. While I might have been too young, I have no regrets. It had to be Mason . . . it had to be us together.

Mason and I had known each other for nearly a year, had been dating for about half that time. One night we took a drive to the beach. It wasn’t something we planned, which made it that much more real, that much more special.

We laid out a blanket, the warm summer breeze blowing across our young bodies. I snuggled against him as I looked at the sky, mesmerized by the twinkling lights so far above us. We talked about the vastness of the universe, talked about how small we felt when looking at the millions of twinkling lights.

It didn’t take long for him to turn me so I was flat on my back. My stomach fluttered in anticipation of his kiss. Our kissing had become more urgent over the months, as if we needed to consume one another. He leaned into me, his mouth connecting with mine in a way that felt utterly right.

He leaned over me, his mouth caressing mine, his hands traveling over my body. I held him, loving the smoothness of his skin, the heat pouring from him. Slowly he pulled my shirt off, and I trembled beneath him. My bra went next, and though I was excited I was also self-conscious at being so exposed.

But I didn’t stop him. When his hands slid up my skirt and inside the elastic of my panties I still didn’t stop him. His kisses became more urgent. Normally I called a halt to things at this point. We were getting too heated. We were pushing boundaries.

But I was excited. I loved him. What could be wrong with doing this final act to show each other how much we belonged together? The next half hour was a lot of fumbling. Our clothes came off and there we were, skin to skin, nothing between us. He didn’t ask if I wanted to do it, he just climbed on top of me.

The moon shone bright, but it was still hard to see his face. I was unaware of the outside world. Anyone could have walked up on us, but I only had eyes for Mason. I was scared, but I knew it was time for us to take this next step.

My body wasn’t ready. Yes, I was excited, but we didn’t know what we were doing. We were so young and naïve, a time in life when innocence was real. A time when I hadn’t yet been hardened by the realities of all that was out there.

He reached between our bodies and held himself as he lined up his erection with my sex. Then he pushed forward. All the tingles rushed from me as pain seared my insides. I gasped and he groaned, thinking my sound was one of pleasure.

I hadn’t talked much about sex. Just to girlfriends who only gush about the good. Sure, I had learned the basics at school, but I had no idea of how much it was going to hurt. He sank all the way inside me, and my entire body was rigid. He didn’t seem to be aware. My fingers dug into his back as I tried to catch my breath.

But Mason was moving, his body frantic as he groaned above me. His body arched and he pumped faster and faster, then yelled out as I felt warmth soak my insides. He let out a satisfied groan as he collapsed on top of me.

The pain subsided into a dull ache, and we lay there together, my arms wrapped tightly around him. This part of making love was wonderful. Our bodies were hot and I truly felt we were one.

Neither of us spoke for several moments as his breathing returned to normal. I don’t know how much time passed before he pulled away from me. I suddenly felt empty as our bodies disconnected. He shifted and cradled me in his arms as he lay on his back and held me close.

“That was amazing,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “Did you like it?”

A nervous giggle escaped me, and he turned and looked at my face. Now on his back, I could see his expression better in the moonlight. I didn’t think to lie.

“It actually hurt. I’m a little sore . . . you know . . . in there,” I admitted.

His eyes widened with concern. “Did I hurt you?” he gasped.

It was our youth. He had no clue that wouldn’t be pleasant for me. He was young and didn’t know how to read a woman’s body. I didn’t exactly have a woman’s body. I was still a girl. I asked a question I never thought to ask before.

“Have you . . .” I paused. My throat tightened, but I needed to know. “Have you done that before?”

There was a long silence as he thought about his answer. I was scared to hear what he had to say. I didn’t want to share him. I had just given him something I could never give another, and I didn’t want that tainted.

“Yeah,” he admitted, sounding afraid. “But she was older and knew what she was doing, and it was . . . different. I didn’t love her.” His words were spoken almost casually at the end.

“So this probably wasn’t good for you,” I said, ready to break into tears.

“No!” he said, his word emphatic. “I love you. What we did was beautiful,” he assured me. His large hand cupped my cheek and I knew I had done the right thing.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m glad we did it.”

Silence greeted those words. The two of us lay there a while longer. He clung a bit tighter as his hand began rubbing my back. We weren’t looking at each other when he spoke.

“Do you want me to . . . um . . . to try to make it feel good for you?”

He sounded nervous. His hardness bumped against my leg. He was ready to have sex again. I didn’t know a whole lot about sex and how it all worked, but I remember talking to friends who said when a guy came he was done for a long time and couldn’t do it again. I felt the ache in my insides and shook my head.

“I think we should wait. I still hurt,” I told him. It wasn’t a stinging pain anymore, but the area was tender. I was slightly embarrassed to have to admit this to him.

“Of course. I’m stupid,” he said, sounding remorseful.

“No, you’re wonderful,” I assured him.

We lay on our blanket for another hour, our hands caressing each other. After we dressed, he drove me home. When I used the bathroom I realized we were foolish. I found a mixture of blood and semen. We didn’t use protection.

Luckily I didn’t get pregnant. And as we made love more and more we got smarter. That night connected us, and we got married three years later. There were times we were more intimate than at others, and it took nearly a year for me to learn my own body, to learn to ask for my pleasure.

I wonder if we would’ve stayed together if we hadn’t begun having sex. For the longest time I did it because I knew it pleased him, not because it brought anything to me. I wonder if he would’ve wanted to be with me if I hadn’t had sex with him. That’s something I’ll never have an answer to.

I hate that something so beautiful turned into something we eventually took for granted. I hate that something I needed from him, something he always wanted for me, is now something he won’t give me.

I realize a relationship can’t last without sexual compatibility. It’s so important. It connects us all in a way we can’t connect with another person. We have friendships, relationships, and lives outside our marriage. But sex with our partner is something we only give each other. It bonds us. It unites us. When that’s taken away, it leaves us empty, as if we’ve somehow failed. It leaves the relationship vulnerable.

It leaves the door open for someone else to step through . . .