The best thing about my sex life with Kelly was how easy and natural everything felt. I’m not sure whether it’s my personality, an occasional lack of confidence, or maybe just the reality of growing up, but most of my earlier intimate relationships had been marked, at least occasionally (or in retrospect), by awkwardness, uncertainty, and a certain amount of talking around what either of us wanted, or what was going wrong. Not so with Kelly.
She established her sex drive from the start, with zero embarrassment: on our third date, she ground herself to a fully-clothed orgasm on top of me, all while saying she couldn’t sleep with me until she knew whether we’d be in a relationship. Later that night, when I joked about her getting off on top of me, she texted back: “Next time maybe you’ll get off inside of me.” Once we’d been dating a little while and could talk more casually about our desires, she told me point blank: “If we’re together and alone and I’m not distracted by work, I always want to fuck you.” She’d text me sometimes from work about her fantasies, or what she wanted. In some ways, I guess, she was comfortable displaying what society tells us is stereotypical ‘male’ behavior—in other words, she knew what she wanted, and she went for it.