1st Times: Memories of College Ex

(All characters 18+ years old.)

A few days ago, I found a photo from over 20 years ago, of an ex-girlfriend of mine, the one with whom I experienced many 'first times'. The one who has changed so much between the first and the last time I saw her. Memories sweet, bitter, and sexy, keep flooding back. So much so that I decided to write it all down. Maybe then I can stop thinking about her.

Part 1

It was the year 2001, some time past midnight, in the middle of the dance floor in a dark, minimalist semi-full club in London, United Kingdom. Aggressive and loud House music thundering from the loudspeakers, and this girl I had just met 2 hours ago had her hands behind my neck, her tongue tangling with mine, and for the first time in my life, I had a finger inside the warm and wet pussy of a girl.

But let's rewind just a bit more.

A few months before that night, after recently turning 18, I moved to the UK from Hong Kong on my own to start my first year of study in one of London's universities.

I was, simply put, a nerd. A bit socially awkward and an introvert by all accounts. So I guess it was lucky that I became a fast friend with Jeff, my coursemate, a fellow Hong Konger, and someone who knew so much more about nightlife and parties than I.

We started hanging out in record shops, various student parties and trendy nightclubs, as Jeff introduced me to IDM, Drum 'n Bass, and Dubstep.

One night, he asked me to go to a club known for cheap drinks and cool music. "I am gonna bring 2 friends I went to boarding school with."

And they were both girls.

As an 18-year-old virgin who was dumped by my first serious girlfriend not long ago, the first thing my brain did whenever I met some new girls, especially fellow students from Hong Kong, was to gauge two things:

1: Do I want this girl?
2: Am I able to get this girl?

When Jeff introduced me to Jan and Florence at the queue outside the club near Holborn station around 10pm that night, my first impression of question 1 was "Probably Not" for both of them.

To make it clear, most guys would probably rate their faces between 6 and 7 out of 10, so they were by no means ugly. (And it was a cold night, both of them were wearing long, puffy jackets, so at that point, faces were the only thing I could base my judgment on)

Jan was petite, probably 5'4. She had chin-length hair dyed light brown. Her eyes were small-ish, her nose was round and cute when she showed her warm smile. She seems energetic and chatty.

Florence was taller, more than 5'7, with flowing, long and straight jet-black hair. Her face was sharp and angular, lacking the soft contours most would call classically beautiful. Her dark monolid eyes carried an intensity that was both unsettling and magnetic.

There was a distinct coldness to her expression, as though she were observing from a distance, detached and untouchable. She probably wasn't the kind of girl who instantly turned heads in a crowd, but I found myself having to force my gaze away before she noticed me staring.

The problem was, my ex wasexactlymy 'type': big, mesmerising, round and double lid eyes, a remarkable beauty by most mainstream aesthetic, her face wouldn't be out of place on a magazine cover or movie poster. I guess she had set my bar rather high.

Consciously or subconsciously, as soon as my brain decided Jan and Florence weren't my potential targets in my quest to find a girlfriend (or at least lose my virginity), I didn't pay the two girls much attention. Jan was the friendlier one, as she took the initiative to involve me in the conversation. Jeff was clearly good friends with both of them, as the three of them traded banter and jokes while we queued. From their conversation, I gathered that Jan has a boyfriend while Florence was single.

Once we went into the club, I peeled off from the three of them, grabbed a beer and started slowly walking around, having a good look at every girl in the club. If I have not made it clear, 18-year-old me really wanted to get laid.

When I rejoined Jeff and the girls, they were already doing tequila shots, and Jeff thrust a shot glass to me, 'Come on, you've got to catch up!' He said cheerfully.

Judging by the empty shot glasses on our table, this was already their second round of shots. I downed the tequila.

With the encouragement of alcohol, Florence obviously lost some of her apparent aloofness and distant air. While it was mostly Jan and Jeff doing the talking, and me chiming in here and there, Florence also became more involved in our conversation, her gesture more animated, her language surprisinglycolourful. Her retort to Jeff when he teased her about being a 'try-hard' sounded almost mean and smug. But he laughed it off.

I found her manner and speech pattern a curious mix of reserved, educated grace and rude bluntness. I could almost picture in my head how she might have attended etiquette class for high society in the morning, and then a curse match with some wannabe gangsters that afternoon.

And somehow, I think she and I have yet to have a direct exchange of words. Maybe she found me not to be her type either.

'And you? Have a girlfriend?' Jan's question directed at me brought me back from my musing.

"Eh... nope. Single. Very single." I replied.

"That makes two of you! So now you and Jeff can go out and be each other's wing man, yeah!' Said Jan enthusiastically, gesturing at Jeff, who sat next to me.

During this exchange, I think I saw at the edge of my vision that Florence sharply looked up and kept her gaze in the direction of me, or Jeff, for a few moments.

It might have been awkward if I turned my eyes to check, so I didn't.

The four of us then ordered another round of shots and chatted and laughed more about meeting girls and guys in our respective universities. Nothing special, but I remembered thinking, 'good, at least Jeff and Jan are nice company that I really enjoy hanging out with.'

Then Florence, who had checked in her jacket but was still wearing a baggy jumper, turned to me and said about my degree course, "I heard the computer science degree at your university is not bad." Before sipping her drink.

"Yeah, I mean, it is supposed to be one of the best in the country," I replied, feeling defensive.

"But not like it is as renowned as the one at our school..." Florence stopped herself just a bit late. She quickly sipped some more of her drink, looking away with a hint of sheepishness.

She was not wrong, of course. Her university was, in fact, top of the country, if not the continent, in many degrees. It was unnecessarily cocky; she knew she had misspoken, and I was a bit annoyed.

"Sorry..." Unexpectedly, Florence uttered under her breath.

Before I could respond, Jan jumped in with her customary cheerful tone, trying to bring Florence and me into a wider conversation again. Undoubtedly, she sensed the awkwardness between us.

Another round of drinks, or two, Jeff led us all to a particularly secluded part of the club to dance. The two girls, who were both looking quite under the influence of the drinks now, were swaying, hands in the air, revelling in it.

I was looking around, actively searching for potential targets that I could hit on, when a couple greeted and hugged Jeff. Apparently, they were some friends he had not seen for a long time, and they pulled him to the bar for drinks.

Being the only male left of our party, I felt a need to keep an eye on our two girls, and only then did I notice that Florence, her jumper left on the seats, with only a plain grey tank top and jeans on her, had quite an eye-catching body.

The tight garments clung to her snugly, hinting at the ample bust and slim waist underneath. The jeans also outlined shapely, long legs that felt wasted covered up.

Moments later, Jan went for the toilet queue. It left just me and Florence in the middle of the sparsely occupied dance floor.

With the music so loud, I lean in towards Florence's ear, meaning to ask if she wanted to go back to our table for a bit. But before I could speak, she had put her hands behind my neck.

I froze as she then kissed me lightly on the lips, pulled back a little and smiled at me. Right then, she looked so different to the cool and reserved girl when we first met, I needed to blink my eyes to be certain who I was looking at.

She looked a bit drunk (ok, more than a bit), a bit seductive, and totally looking like she expected me to make the next move, inviting me to make the next move.

And guys, remember this was me at 18, been single for months, after one beer and 4 tequila shots. I know I decided she was not 'my type'. But there was only one thing I was gonna do then.

I put my hands on her lower back and pulled her close for a kiss. First it was lips to lips, then we both opened our mouths, and I felt her taking the lead, her tongue actively exploring mine.

We hug each other tighter, I felt that my chest squashed something soft ('those are breast? Those are breasts!' thought the virgin me, who have only previously touched the very flat chest of my first girlfriend, for a few seconds), and the hard part of her bra (Later I learnt that's the underwire. I had no knowledge of bra back then) digging into my chest, my hands moved as if by instinct toward her ass. And I squeezed.

Florence stopped the snogging, leaned back slightly and looked into my eyes. Did I go too far? Did I blow it?

But she smiled that mischievous smile again, and she started rubbing my very hard dick over my jeans with her hand.

It drove me crazy. No one, not even my ex has proactively touched me like that. My mind went blank at that moment. Before I knew it, I was grabbing her hand that was rubbing me over the jeans, and placing her finger tips under the waistband of my boxer shorts. I swear I didn't know I was gonna do that.

She didn't hesitate at all, as she slid her hand inside my boxer, held my erect cock and started ever so slowly to move up and down.

I had a hand job from my ex before, but it only happened after I begged and nagged for ages. And now, this girl I barely knew, on a dance floor!

With her grabbing my dick, I couldn't think. I gave in to any animal instinct I may have, and I found my hand on her jeans was moving from her ass cheek toward what's between her thighs.

I grabbed and pressed. I had no idea what I was doing, but Florence moaned into my ear as I used my fingers like I was a little kid trying the only way he knew to break into the packaging of his favourite sweet.

She jerked me more enthusiastically, together with her second moan that seemed to urge me on, I moved my hand up the backside of her jeans, slid my hand inside her underwear, and started caressing the soft and smooth skin of her ass.

But I didn't stay there for long, my hand continued to move downward, my fingers eagerly exploring, pressing, and found.... Wetness.

My ex never let my hand between her legs, and it was the time when HD porn was not easily accessible for me, so I only had the most vague idea about how much natural lubricant a woman can release.

And man, she was really WET.

Feeling how delicate and soft her flesh in this region was, I gently inch my fingers on. My middle finger was like an explorer stepping into a forbidden jungle for the first time, carefully prodding, not wanting to make any sudden movement, but hell bent on pushing forward, feeling more and more.

I felt her folds, and the hairless, smooth, soft skin around them. I didn't know about caressing her lips to make her feel good or anything like that, then. My finger had one goal only.

I started to hook my middle finger upward and inward; her wetness made it easy to slide in. And she MOANED, her body leaning onto me further, her hand on my cock stilled and squeezed me tighter as my finger went deeper and deeper, bit by bit.

Her pussy was so warm, moist and soft, it's like nothing I have ever touched.

Most of my middle finger went in, and I didn't have a clue what to do next, but since Florence seemed to enjoy it whenever my finger moved inside her, I started to rhythmically pull my finger out, push in, and out...

She kissed me again as her hand resumed stroking my shaft inside my boxer. Taking that as a cue, I shifted my free hand from her waist to slide up into her tank top. I probably had stolen a few glances around us to check if anyone was staring, but it was so dark, and I didn't think anyone was in our close proximity.

In what would probably have been an awkwardly skewed posture, my right hand kept busy inside Florence's pants from behind her, my left hand reached her bra inside her top.

I wanted to squeeze my fingers underneath her bra, but the underwire proved a hindrance, so I relented and settled for cupping her full, ripe breast over the thin fabric of the bra.

Like I said, even though I have touched my ex's chest, hers was nowhere near as shapely and perky. Florence's breasts (a 32 C cup, as I later found out) were not 'big' but certainly a handful. Even when covered by fabric, I marvelled at how good it felt to knead and mould it.

I dare not squeeze too hard that I may hurt her, but man, wasn't this fun to play with.

I didn't know how long has passed since Florence first kissed me but I knew I needed more, I needed the next step, and I certainly don't want to blow my load in her hand like this, so I gently stopped my finger pumping, pulling my finger out as I put my mouth on her ear and said, 'let's get out of here, let's go to my place?'

She smiled at me and said, 'Yeah!' But it was then, as we pulled apart, that I realised again how intoxicated she looked. And how totally different her smiling expression now was, compared with her controlled, cool demeanour before she started drinking.

Thinking about that now, 20 years on, I would question if I was taking advantage of a drunk girl. But if it's bothering you, just know that I, too, have had at least 1 tequila shot too many to think clearly, at that point. And if truth be told, a sober me (18 years old or not) would be way too timid to do what we have done, basically in front of everyone, there.

What happened next was a blur to me then, and a blur to me now: Florence said, 'Let's tell Jeff and Jan first...' and walked off. I collected her jacket and mine, and I walked up to the exit of the club to the sight of Jeff and Florence 'play fighting', his hands gripping her wrists as it seemed like she was trying to hit him, but both of them were smirking. Their faces were very close together without touching. Still, my heart sank. It was foolish to feel possessive about a girl I barely knew, but that's exactly how I felt.

Was there anything between Jeff and Florence?

Then Jan stepped in between them, and despite her shorter stature, put Florence's jacket on her (I have no idea when Jan took that from me) like a mum caring for her daughter, and the four of us stepped out of the club.

Under the brighter street lights outside, I remember Florence's silly drunken smile, and Jan saying to me, "I am taking her home, bye!" Her expression seemed to be saying, nah, not today with a hint of an apologetic smile.

As Jeff and I watched the two girls get into a black cab and drive off, I wanted to ask him about Florence, but I stopped myself.

I probably felt gutted and disappointed, wished I could be taking Florence to bed and continue what was an exciting and amazing time for me and, I assume, her as well.

In the cab Jeff and I got on, we got a bit more sober and chatted about everything but Florence, but I did find out she and Jan were sharing a flat near Kensington. Just before he got off at his stop, Jeff wasn't looking at me, but he said casually, "Florence, she has always had a thing about alcohol... "

And then he smiled as he said bye to me, and he was off.

Part 2

After that erotic night in the club, I couldn't stop thinking about Florence and what we had done.

We were literally giving each other hand jobs in the middle of a club, albeit the lighting was dark and there probably weren't a lot of people in that part of the club, but, in hindsight, there must have been some people noticing, watching what we were doing. Luckily, it was 2001, camera phones were still a total rarity, and there was no chance those early phone cameras could take a clear photo in that darkness.

But still, while I was not a model student, I came from a socially conservative society, and very rarely broke any rules, social or school ones. So that was totally nuts.

As for Florence, just so many questions: I wondered how much she remembered about what we did? How often would she get this drunk? What's that Jeff said about her 'thing with alcohol'? That sounded ominous... And how 'close' was she and Jeff, really?

After A couple of days (and several times of jerking off, remembering that night), I finally asked Jeff for Florence's number, via text.

I almost thought Jeff would not let me know because there was no reply for well over an hour. It was agony waiting, but eventually he sent me her number.

It took me 30 minutes to draft and rewrite that first message I sent to Florence, inviting her to have a coffee in Soho, and another nervous 40 minutes before she replied with "Cool, see you then." (Thinking back, she was definitely trying to sound as chill and 'yea, whatever' as she could. The butterfly fluttering in her stomach at that moment must have been as big as mine then.)

When we met two days later in the afternoon, the awkwardness was so palpable that the air felt thickened between us.

First time seeing Florence in broad daylight, and with little make-up on, has reinforced my initial judgement: she looks cool, not pretty.

Flowing down her shoulders, her straight, jet-black hair was centre-parted neatly, further emphasising the sharpness of her jawline and the proud aura she exuded. Her high cheekbones and straight nose lent her an air of unyielding sophistication, but her lips, set in a faint, almost dismissive curve, suggested a quiet arrogance.

Yet, for 18-year-old me at that moment, what she looked like was almost beside the point.

She was the first woman who gave me that sexual thrill by snogging with me so passionately while giving me full access to her vagina and her breasts (in front of strangers!). That night in the club felt closer than ever that I could, finally, go through the full sexual experience I instinctively craved since publicity began, and one that I felt my ex, my first proper girlfriend, denied me.

Besides, even though she was totally not trying to dress to impress me - Loose sweat shirt, long jeans and sneakers - seeing the vague shape of her very noticeable breasts pushing up under the sweat shirt, her narrow waist and fairly long and lean legs showed off by her tight jeans, these brought back the memories imprinted by what my hands felt back in that club: her fit body had both the curves and leanness at the right places that made me hard just thinking about it.

So now, even though I didn't feel especially attracted to Florence's features, I wanted to really talk to her, get to know her, and find out if we could form a bond that was beyond the surface and the physical.

If this were a romance story, I would recount how I 'won her heart'. But that's not why you are reading this, so let me be brief: we were both nervous at the start, but after 4 or 5 more dates, to cafes, to museums, record shops, house parties, and a few late-night phone calls that were enjoyable enough and lasted for ages, Florence and I were officially a couple.

We started holding hands, we would steal a light, quick kiss here and there, and we hung out with Jan and Jeff, but throughout this time, Florence seemed to be cutting down on her alcohol consumption, quite deliberately.