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"Tell me about your first time."

"First time with a guy? Or with a girl?" Wendy asked.

I shrugged.

"Both," I said.

We were sitting in my living room. I was on the couch. Wendy sat across from me in an arm chair. We were halfway through a bottle of wine.

For two months we had been meeting up to fuck. When I met her, she was a bored soccer mom who wasn't satisfied with her married life. There had been an instant attraction between us. We'd been sneaking around ever since. Most of our time was spent in the sack. We had skipped over the "getting-to-know-each-other" phase.

"The stories aren't that exciting," she said. She took a sip of her wine. "He was my high school sweetheart. We spent a year kissing and fondling one another before I let him go all the way. I thought it would be romantic to do it at senior prom. But I lost my patience and it happened one day on a sofa in my parents basement. It wasn't very good. I remember being nervous more than anything."

...

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