Give It to Me Baby

I was a virgin until I was 26; I don't really know why. Well, I do know why, but it's not really important. The important thing is that it just never happened when it happened for most people. Eventually I met a girl at my job at the tuna-canning plant, and we started dating. She was pretty, and she had more experience than I did (how could she not), so you can be sure that I was really excited when I realized that it was finally going to happen to me.

And sure enough it did, after about a month of us dating. I had a good time, and it felt good and all that, but mainly I was just glad to have it over with. Shortly after our first time, we got into the routine of doing it about twice a week, which for me was a huge increase in how much sex I had been having previously.

I really enjoyed exploring sex--the positions, the different things to do, and even kinkier things like dirty talking. "Baby, you feel so good," she said to me once when we were doing it. I got so excited I had to take a break.

She noticed how much I liked it when she talked dirty to me like that, so it got to the point where she told me how good it felt every time. It was really cool at first, but after a while I kind of started to expect it, and it was less exciting. So one day I decided to push the envelope a little.

"You feel so good," she said to me.

"Mmmm, yeah, you like that?" I answered.

"Yeah, baby."

"Yeah, I love fucking you, baby."

It was true. I did love fucking her, and I thought it would be kind of hot to tell her that, just like when she told me. I kept humping away, eyes closed. When I opened them a second later she wasn't moaning anymore, and she kind of looked bored and impatient.

"Baby, what's wrong?" I asked her.

"Oh nothing," she snapped. "It's fine. Just keep fucking me. If you really want to fuck me, just go ahead and enjoy yourself. If that's all I am to you, just someone to fuck."

"Oh, baby, no! It's not like that! I was just--"

"Get off me."

I must've spent half an hour trying to convince her that I didn't think of her as just a piece of meat. She didn't let me sleep with her for two weeks.

~~~~

I was careful after that, and I made sure never to make a remark that could be considered insulting. She, of course, continued with her "you feel so good" routine every time we did it. Sex was getting formulaic and stale. Then I started thinking: Isn't what she's saying basically the same as what I said? The only difference is that I used the f word.

The thought stewed inside me for a few weeks. I don't mean to say that it consumed me, but when it welled up, it bothered me. Why can't I say something like that when she can? What's so wrong with saying fuck, really? I eventually got so indignant that I hatched a plan.

The next time we were having sex, she said her line, and I jumped on the opportunity.

"Yeah, baby, you feel good too," I said, gauging her response.

"Mmmm, ahhhh."

"It feels so good to be inside you."

"Yeah, mmmmm."

So far so good.

"I love fucking you."

Again, she stopped. "What? Fucking me? You really do think I'm just a piece of ass. Just go ahead and fuck me then, if that's all I am to you."

So I did. I kept fucking her. I figured that if she could be dramatic, then so could I.

"Fuck yeah," I said, working it harder and harder. "All I care about is sex and fucking. Yyyeeeaah!"

I could see her indignance, but the more I whaled away the less bothered she seemed about what I was saying. In fact, it seemed like she was getting more turned on.

"I'm just a disgusting pig who only cares about sex!" I grunted. "Yeee-ha!"

"You piece of shit motherfucker! You think you can just--oooaaaaahhhHHH!" she gripped the bedsheets and pulled them off the mattress. You motherfuckoooh yeah, fuck me you motherfucker!"

Once again she had turned the tables on me. Was she legitimately upset before? Was this real or was she going to call the police on me? I was hoping to take things just one step beyond, and show her that I wasn't just some barbarian, but now it seemed like that was what she wanted. In the meantime we were having the most intense sex we'd ever had.

When it was over, we both lay there panting and sweating, her with that satisfied post-coital glow, me feeling pretty good, but also confused as hell.

That was years ago. That first girlfriend and I eventually broke up, but I never forgot what I learned from being with her. That's not to say that all women will respond the same way that she did in that situation, but there's something very significant about the balance of power in the bedroom that I would have never recognized if it hadn't been for her. I never asked her about it--I felt like it was an unspoken agreement between the two of us, and if we discussed it, the spell would be broken. Besides, I didn't really need to know the why of it. I just wanted both of us to enjoy sex.