t w e n t y - o n e

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Losing your virginity was supposed to be a special moment in life, a moment in which you could cherish forever, for it was with a person you loved.

For girls, like me, it was painful. Especially when your partners size was larger than you've ever expected it to be.

His lips were fully against mine each and every minute as he thrusted himself into me. And of course, I groaned in pain against his mouth, causing him to go slower afterward.

His fingers also moved down to rub circles against my clit as he made each thrust of his hips to add pleasure to my pain. And it worked.

The pain soon fled my body, replacing itself with only small pains as he got deeper. It was also replaced with a tingling sensation in my lower stomach, and my hands quickly moved to his back to rake my nails down just to show him how good he was making me feel.

I looked at Luke's face as beads of sweat formed against his warm skin, and each time he would moan I would feel the vibrations against my lips, just as he earlier let me feel the same sensation as he placed his tongue in between my thighs.

The way his tongue danced around my clit caused my hips to buck off of the bed instantly, and the way he neglected to stop even when I did so made me come on his mouth in a matter of seconds.

I never thought I would do so when he first put his length into me, but after a few minutes I was moaning his name and enjoying the pleasure that he was giving me with each gentle but affective thrust.

"Luke," I remembered moaning, feeling the heat of his body against mine as it caused me to sweat as well.

He didn't stop and tell me to call him "daddy" this time, and it was because I was guessing he wanted this to be special for me. Normal, as others would call it.

And it was special, better than special. It made me momentarily wonder why my mother ever left a man as good as Luke. Good as a person, and definitely good in bed.

I didn't have anybody else to compare it to of course, but I didn't want to have anybody else.

Afterward, we slept side by side. Or at least, he slept while I looked up at the ceiling fan and watched it spin.

It was a wonder at how things could change over time. How it could go from sad and wanting what you cannot have, to being overwhelmingly happy and having what you once couldn't have.

I often also wondered what my safe haven was. I never really felt like I could call a place home, for I didn't have a biological mother and father in the same house with me since birth.

I didn't have a father by my side at the hospital when I was getting my tonsils removed as a child, I didn't have a father to wake me up with a glass of warm milk when I woke up with nightmare, nor did I have a mother to do that either, for she was always out with strange men to earn money whilst he used her body.

Therefore my house was simply a house, not a home nor a safe haven, whatever that even meant, just a house full of picture frames of fatherless family photos and that same old alcohol stain in the carpet caused by my mother years back when she decided to take a man home with her.

The bearded man spilled his bottle of booze and fucked my mother against the wall beside my bedroom. I heard it all, and after that night I neglected to sleep.

I was only six.

But now as I looked at the ceiling fan above me and the man I loved beside me asleep, I knew I didn't need a biological father and a mother to be happily married for a home to be a home.

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