*Fuck it was fun remembering this story. I hope y’all enjoy.*
Background:
I was pretty sexually repressed most of my life. And so after my divorce, I was very excited to explore anything and everything. During the summer of this story, I was 26, and I had been sleeping with this wonderful guy named Taylor, who was 28. We had a strictly fwb relationship, but I mean, I was very clearly head over heels for this guy. He was tall, funny, handsome, witty, intelligent. And *damn the sex was good*. I had never had this kind of relationship before, so it was kind of exciting (but also gave me lots of anxiety lol.)
So one Saturday, after some sweet morning handies, I’m sitting in his desk chair only wearing one of his oversized tshirts (he’s about a foot taller than me so it swallows me), the neck hole is hanging off my shoulder. And he’s chilling on the bed, munching on a bowl of cereal in his boxers. We get on the topic of our past relationships. He tells me about sleeping with an older woman during his younger years, and that she really taught him some things. I told him that sounds really sweet and I’m kind of jealous I never had someone to teach me different things.