Vincent

A Transition

When I woke up, Vincent was still sleeping. He looked so pretty with his face relaxed, his dark eyelashes unbothered. His arms were kept around me and he didn't wear a shirt to bed. I noticed the tattoos on his hands went further up.

Those hands made me remember yesterday. Like that was a big step in our nonexistent relationship. Well, actually, I didn't really know what we were and I didn't want to ask because I was afraid it would turn him off. I always read on Instagram that guys hated that after they had sex.

It made me nervous. You would think that I wouldn't be but I was. Sex was a big thing. I didn't plan on giving it away to just anyone. Although I was a Catholic, I didn't really stick too much to the idea of waiting until marriage. Ideally, I would want to give myself to someone I loved, trusted, and respected. To me, it was important, I didn't want to just give it away to some random guy.

Yes, I've touched myself but having a man's dick in me was completely different than pressure on my clit. Two entirely different things. I heard that it would hurt and although I had a relatively high pain tolerance, I was still nervous. Plus, I know all the articles I've read said that every woman is different, but there was talk of blood. I didn't want to bleed all over someone's dick. I would simply die from embarrassment. Right on the spot. No question about it.

But, as I gazed up at Vincent I thought about him. He was attractive and dangerous and it made my stomach flutter. I thought about him a lot. Honestly. Could he? I mean, I got on a bike with this man. He could've crashed it but I gave him enough trust.

I didn't think too much about that at the moment. And, we kissed a lot. I wouldn't have let him kiss me if I wasn't okay with it.

I could see him being the guy to take my virginity. He wasn't rude and he wasn't overly sweet. I didn't want that. I wanted a gangster that was passionate and stuff. I was on the receiving end of this man's kisses and touches. That was that.

Was I ready? I mean, was I mature enough for this?

What the fuck am I even saying? Of course, I was! I was mature, I was just defiant at times.

Fuck this! I was going to do this! Take the initiative!

I carefully lifted his arm from me, weaseling my way out of his embrace. I watched as his face contorted.

"Cosa fai?" he muttered, keeping his eyes closed.

"I'm going to go brush my teeth," I answered, quietly.

He nodded, letting go of me so I could stand up. My stomach was churning in all sorts of ways. I was so nervous. I quickly brushed my teeth, running a brush through my hair. I didn't need to take a shower because I did last night, I was good. I grabbed some perfume anyway, spritzing some light fragrance.

Makeup, makeup, makeup.

Oh my fucking God, where the hell was my makeup bag- oh! I pulled it out from the cabinet, grabbing out mascara and some foundation. I knew guys liked the more natural look. Kim Kardashian's sex tape makeup looked somewhat natural and she's famous.

I dampened my beauty blender, putting foundation over my small breakouts on the side of my forehead and my right upper cheek. I even put some on my eyelids in a hurry, quickly blending it out. I usually took my time when it came to my mascara but I didn't have time. I was rushing. I was worried about taking too long. I quickly put away my makeup, running a hand through my hair before walking back out.

He didn't say anything as I got back in bed, just pulled me closer and kissed my forehead.

"You smell good," he mumbled, putting his hand up my shirt to rest on the skin.