A man who was once a boy and a girl who is now a woman

Two strangers in the same bed becoming familiars.

What a curious way to get to know each other

First, we shared our bodies
Now, our stories
I wonder when we will show our hearts...

I can tell we like each other. I felt it only briefly, just for a moment. The warm-toned orange light in the corner of the bedroom softened the curves of his face. His curls tipped gently to the left with the slight tilting of his head. I watched him as his body moved to my side, turning me with him as his hand glided over my hips and the other stayed in the nape of my neck. In our movement, there was stillness - a pulse. I captured the look in his eyes and the slanted smile on his face before we pulled each other closer for a kiss.

We were greedy for each other that night. Our grip was stronger, our moans louder, and our kisses... Our kisses were something else entirely. I had never tasted his lips so presently before. It felt like our first proper introduction and every meeting after that was filled with a lust that turned to hunger, as if to say “I missed you.”

We extended each part of our body by grace of entering the others. Folding in and around each other; only being able to imagine the pleasure I gave him by virtue of the pleasure he gave me. Breathless and dehydrated, we sought for moisture in each other unwilling for the moment to end. And when it did, we let ourselves sink back into our bodies waiting for our breath to return.

My knees have never been weaker but I have never felt more myself. Feeling almost transparent glistening in sweat and moonlight, he drew my attention to his hair telling me its story from tip to root; back to primary school—his first embarrassing story. I was a little surprised, assuming stories like these would be reserved for women of a different caliber yet I was the only woman in his bed. We continued exchanging our stories, paying with laughter in return. Later, we sketched the silhouettes of our past smoking in the windowpane and showed each other one wound, one shadow, and one scar. When it was time to exit that space, we patched it up stating facts of life. Shortly after, we let the wine do all the talking.

We sank into a new space of comfort, creating conversation from the present standing on the connection we had just built. It was the first time this felt like friendship. Something I secretly hoped for. I learned something about letting go that night. To worry less about mapping out direction and instead trust the organic flow of gravity.

For the second time, our bodies had to get reacquainted, now knowing much more about each other than before. I listened to the ways his body showed affection; when his hands asked for the touch of mine, where the placement of his breath was meant to stimulate mine, how he buried my head in his chest when it felt like I was inches away from exploding. I heard him chuckle with joy and gratification when he sent my body shaking with satisfaction. He bathed in my wetness sounding cries of near dis-belief because it felt so good.

It occurred to me that his affections were never done as a courtesy to me but as genuine displays of his enjoyment. I had always thought myself so little, so insignificant in the matters of sex, I never considered myself as being truly wanted, let alone an equal partner to the person I was with. And in that moment, it felt like I had become something more.

From that point on, I saw our sex for what it was.
Suddenly, the act of wrapping his hand around my throat wasn’t one of violence or porn-washed misogyny but rather an act of knowing. Knowing how to fuck and wanting to be fucked. Everything we did was intentional - every lick, kiss, gip and bite. We were no longer teenagers desperately masturbating or seeking sex for validation.
Suddenly, we were adults, who embraced all the mess and could make light of the awkward.

That morning, we made something not far from love. We created our own kind of intimacy
Moving as softly as the morning did

I enjoyed every bit of his affection and showed him every bit of mine.
Folding and unfolding in and around each other, extending ourselves by grace of the other

Only this time,
I was no longer a girl but a woman in her own right and I have never felt more grown.