first love

This week, over two decades later, i became lovers with the girl who was my first teenage sexual desire.
The fact that it was a dream does not make it as unreal as you might think. I'll get back to that in a minute.
So often in life we distort or simplify truth, as it suits our needs. With statements like "I've never felt this bad", "You're my first love", or "That was the spiciest food ever!", there is often a lack of total truth, but for most people a measure of truth is all that is required. If no one is being essentially deceived, this facet of human interaction isn't even necessarily a bad thing...it can enrich the day-to-day moments of our lives. And sometimes we think we're remembering truth, but memory is fallible and self-serving in ways we're only beginning to understand.
Once in a long while, our superlative statements are true. But human psyches are too layered for most emotional superlatives to be so. When we say "i've never felt this bad", there have almost always been variations and building blocks of that feeling all our lives.
Who was my "first love"? Was it Renee, my childhood crush? Was it Miss Dull, my fifth grade teacher? Was it Stacy, the girl whom i gently adored in that window between childhood and adolescence? Was it Farrah? Was it Carol, my first long-suffering teenage crush? Was it Missy, the first girl who paralyzed me with longing? Was it Meghan, the first girl i had an intimate, healing relationship with? Was it Amanda, the first (and third) girl i fell in love with? Was it Vanessa, the first girl i felt a vacuum-in-my-head thunder strike for, the moment we met? Is it a woman who's only ever existed in my imagination?
In the dream, my mother and i were teaching at an elementary school in the Pocono Mountains. It was dark outside, and a blizzard was forcing an early end to the day. After we got all the kids away, Mom and i and some others, both kids and adults, got into a big van and headed for home in the swirling darkness. I was in the way back, with some kids and a girl i couldn't see clearly. As i chatted with the kids, the silent girl moved closer. I became aware that it was Missy, who lived across the street when i was a teenager. Even now, having seen her only once in the past twenty years, the image of her standing alone by our pool in her black bikini is enough to affect my pulse. I was lying across the van seat, with her now behind me, and i reached under and behind her, and slowly touched her in the most intoxicatingly sensual way. She stared front so as not to give our secret away. I continued talking to the kids, my hand moving in her pants. The softness of her skin and the electricity in our touch was breathtaking. I slid a finger into her front hole, then one in the back hole. She didn't open fully immediately, but eventually both fingers were drawn all the way in. Finally she laid back on me, face up.
It was at this point that i became aware it was a dream, and that i was slowly coming out of it. I tried to stay in the dream, but a minute or three later i was mostly awake, with an erection so full it almost vibrated.
Did you know that the brain doesn't know the difference between fantasy and reality? In a study done on athletes, winning a race and imagining winning one manifested completely identical brain patterns.
So in a very real sense, i've made love with Missy. Was it the "best sex of my life"? On some level only my purest brain understands, a little bit, yes.
Of course, since we only remember a fraction of our dreams, it's possible that i've made love to Missy before...maybe even thousands of times. But this was the first time i remembered it...or the first time i remember remembering it.
If that's not the total truth, it's enough to make for a tender tale...
Especially the part where she liked my finger in her hiney.