Finally Open

I have never understood what is so exciting about sex. From the time I was a teenager, I would muffle giggles or stare vacantly into space, alternatively fascinated or off-put by my partner's enjoyment of what we were doing. What was it that they enjoyed so much, that made them lose control under the slightest brush of my hands, while I felt nothing? I became excellent at feigning enjoyment, aping the emotions and reactions I knew I should be having. However, there was one thing I couldn't conceal. I couldn't let a partner inside of me, couldn't drop that guard and allow that intimacy when I truly wished my body was somewhere else. My muscles would clench and my body would shut down-even if I had wanted to, my body made the decision for me. I was open to no one.

Then I met him.

From the moment we met, it was like my body couldn't be apart from his. We were connected, always just slightly touching, practically vibrating with awareness at every movement.

The first time he put his arms around me, I soaked through my underwear. I was floored-what were these sensations, these knee-weakening, breath catching sensations that I had always listened to others describe with a sense of disbelief.

We live 4,000 miles apart, so for now I am alone with my imagination. But I can see, for the first time, so clearly. I imagine his weight, his scent, his touch, and I let myself drown in it.

He is a man of trans experience, and when I imagine his pleasure at being able to take me in a gender-affirming way, to penetrate me and fuck me and feel me surround him, it only increases my arousal. For the first time, I long to open myself to another person, to allow him to come inside of me until I scream from it.

I am finally open, and I ache with it.