What Could Have Been a Beautiful Thing

I was around fifteen years old when I was introduced to Nina. I was fairly new in town and had befriended two of the locals who were into punk and hardcore music. They were still kind of geeky but nice guys. Nice enough to introduce me to friendly people and show me around. Meeting Nina would be something that would make an impression upon me as an adolescent, and the wasted potential for a special relationship still haunts me as an adult.

Before my new friends went out for the night, they invited me down to the beach for a few beers. It was here that I first heard about Nina’s strange appetites. I heard about how she had wanted her last boyfriend to masturbate in front of her. It seems as though that was not a big deal, but then she had also become quite demanding about things. Nina had gone so far as to suggest he lie on the bathroom floor and jerk off if he wanted to be allowed to touch her. He was required to jump through various hoops if he wanted to penetrate her. The boyfriend was disgusted, dumped her, and gave out all the details after he left. Now Nina had a reputation for wanting disturbing things from her boys. I never said a word. In fact, I laughed with the rest of them as I heard the story, but something clicked in my head, and I was immediately determined to meet her.

We ended up in Nina's kitchen a few hours later to drink beer and socialize. Nina was a short, heavyset, eighteen-year-old, hippy with short, dark hair. She dressed slightly butch and was very reserved. Her sister had just dumped a boyfriend and was considered to be much more attractive by my new friends. They were all vying for the younger sister’s attention: laughing at her jokes, complimenting her, etc. Meanwhile, I hung back and watched Nina at the head of the table, as she sat quietly smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. I never said a word to her. I just stood there drinking and kept to myself.

After a while, I had to piss and went into the bathroom. I stood there looking at the cracked tile floor. I imagined myself lying on the floor under her struggling to masturbate. Immediately I started to get hard, and ended up having to force the stream down so that I didn’t urinate all over the back of the toilet.

Eventually, we gravitated into Nina’s bedroom. She had a water bed and a TV in there, making it very comfy. We spread out to achieve individual agendas in the darkness. The fellahs were on the floor, sharing a bong and hitting on Nina's sister while I managed to end up next to Nina on the bed. We ended up close together. I was hugging her, and she was keeping me at a comfortable distance, humoring me while clearly giving me the “no thanks” vibe. I suddenly felt unable to control myself anymore. I leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “I know what you want, and I would like to be with you. I will do whatever you say.” Now I am not a smooth talker or a ladies man, and I certainly was more clumsy at that age. I have almost always been the kind of guy that needs the woman to make the first move. But I wanted her to use me badly, and pure desire caused those words to tumble out of my mouth in a way that probably sounded more choked than silky.

She looked at me intently for a moment then said: “Let’s go downstairs.”

I followed her out of the room and down a long flight of stairs into the basement. There was a dingy couch on a shag rug that was parked in front of a black and white television. We sat on the couch for a moment and then were making out in the awkward, abrupt manner of youth. She pushed me back, and I remember distinctly that her kiss was very wide and aggressive. It was as though she wanted to inhale my lips and tongue inside her mouth. She was a strong girl with a large appetite. I reached down between her legs to find she was very wet, so wet that her sex had soaked through her panties and into the fabric of her shorts. She pushed my hand away and unbuttoned my pants. Then she pushed me sideways, sliding down my boxers. I kept my hands out of the way, as she slid her fingers around the base of my balls, grasping them hard.

We lay like that on the couch for some time, in the flickering light of the television. She kissed me, her eyes wide open watching me, squeezing my balls. When I would reach for her pussy, I would have my hand pushed away. “Not yet,” she would murmur. “You will take care of me soon.” I was already hot before we came down to this couch, and limited experience was to be my downfall that evening. She would dip down to suck my cock for a few minutes, taking me full down her throat and then come back up to tug harder on my balls and look into my eyes or study my face. Then suddenly I lost control and came hard. So hard my load hit her under the chin and splattered on me. I was embarrassed into speechlessness, but she simply scooped it up with a finger and swallowed it with an approving sound.

“I think you should return the favor,” she said.

I reached down and felt her silky pubic patch and very wet cunt. I licked my lips and got ready to move down her body. I wanted to bury my face in her sex so badly, and I was already hard again.

There was noise upstairs, and she pulled me back up. “Maybe we should finish this tomorrow,” she said. “I get off work at five.” I agreed. We got straightened up and smoked a cigarette in front of the grainy picture of the tiny set. I felt ashamed of coming so fast, but I did not know what to say. The whole event was weird and uncomfortable to me, as I was very young and had not yet had the later experiences that would crystallize my sexuality.

The next day, I skated over to a friend’s house that I had known in another town. He was one of the few people in that area that came from the a working class background, and listened to the same music. Back then, punk was very underground and very dangerous; It was a lifestyle not a fashion statement. I immediately felt a bad vibe, as his attitude towards me was cool and mocking. This went on for a while, and then a little bit later I finally asked him what his problem was.

“I can’t believe you would do that,” he said. “With her. You make me sick.”

I knew immediately the others had talked about my going downstairs with Nina. And from that action this guy had extrapolated a series of actions that never happened. That I wish they had happened was immaterial to my juvenile mind. This friend's attitude put on immediate notice that any kind of relationship with this girl was going to be seen as borderline homosexuality and my masculinity would be questioned. If this one person had the gall to say it there was no telling what kind of grief I would get at the next show. I do not mean teasing, or jokes. I mean the crowd I ran with would probably jump me. I had to nip it in the bud.

I wish I could say that I kicked his ass and skated away a hero. I wish I could say I met Nina that evening to finish what I had started. But he was bigger than me and ran with the same tough crowd and ultimately I wanted to keep my status in the scene. I laughed it off and made the lame excuses only a kid can make and get another kid to buy. Eventually, he, and others, made passing jokes but no one really had ammunition as nothing had been seen, and it was a just another drunken night.

I avoided Nina for a week. Finally I went over her house one evening with the guy who was now dating her sister. We met out by the pool and she came up looking nonchalant and asked why I had not shown up. I reddened then made lame excuses. She looked at me with disgust then walked away. I felt like a shitbag and was deeply ashamed. I was young, stupid, and eager to impress all of the wrong people when the right one was standing right there.

Everything I wrote above is the truth as I remember it. I will write quite a few entries here about what I wish was the truth but is merely a fantasy. Twenty three years later, I go to sleep thinking about Nina what I could have had with her. I am aware of the fact that the story above seems tame to mature eyes. You might be thinking that I am making too much of my own fantasies of what I wanted Nina to be out of a harmless hand job on the basement couch and rumors started by kids. I might agree had I not found the book in Nina’s bedroom.

I was drinking with the boys out behind Nina’s house while my friend was inside heavy petting with her preppy sister. I went inside for a beer, and found myself wandering into her room. Nina was at work, and I wanted to see the space I could have been allowed to enter. I sat on the large water bed and looked up at the barren walls. Then, I looked down and saw a red book peeking out from under a few large pillows she used to lean against on the floor while watching TV. The book was something that was hard to get at the time, a femdom photo and art collection. it was very high quality, full of black and white photos: men being whipped with belts, servicing women's cunts; sucking ass; being jerked off while bound, and forced to maintain eye contact as they orgasmed. I flipped the pages slowly, getting intensely aroused by the images, yearning and feeling a need grow deep inside me. Then I found a page that was clearly privileged over others, as it was flattened out, slightly wrinkled, and obviously looked at often.

It was a drawing of a man with an ass that was reddened with welts and stuffed up with a large plug, his face was buried in a busty woman’s dripping cunt. She held his collar tightly and smoked a cigarette. The caption read: “If you manage to make me come three times before I am done with my cigarette, I might let you eat my asshole again.”

I placed the book back under the pillow and stood up feeling dizzy and hollow. I knew there was things depicted in there that I needed and Nina needed them as well, but I was simply not ready. I walked back out on the back porch and said I had to leave. That night, I stole a bottle of whiskey and got stinking drunk alone on the railroad tracks. I had a boom box and a Social Distortion cassette. I remember I was drinking, then sobbing. Later I went to a party and got into a fistfight that should have been something minor. Instead, I broke the guys collarbone. I left town the next day on a Greyhound to stay elsewhere with a relative.

While I had many other significant sexual experiences, I will always fantasize about Nina. She was a first in a manner of speaking. She showed me what could be. I will never see her again and that is too bad. But I would like to address an apology, as well as show my respect, to all of the mature, dominant women in the world who put up with immature crap from disrespectful submissives. Sad replacement for saying it to her face but it will have to do as she is long gone.

It would take a much older and experienced woman to show me what I really was and what it meant to yearn...but that came later. I am sorry I lacked your courage and maturity Nina, because if I had had a tenth of it, I would be a much happier man having the experience of serving you.