My biggest New Years Eve memory isn’t even from New Years Eve; it’s from the night before. I had just turned 22, had started in the fire department, had just bought a house that I’d move into three months later, and for the first time in my life was feeling pretty damn good about myself.
Early in the day a few of us got together to go bowling, and I met my friend W’s friend L for the first time. I can’t remember exactly how I bowled, but I rolled well enough not to embarrass myself, and later that night when everyone convened at my house, W told me that L was interested in me.
And I was definitely interested in her.
We all went to a club, and while W’s English boyfriend when shot for shot with my buddy J and talked about how he would be Prime Minister and J would be President, I danced with L. She was wearing a glittery top that tied around the neck, again around the stomach above her belly button, and left her entire back exposed. She clearly wasn’t wearing a bra.
After everyone was good and drunk and danced out, we went back to my house… to drink some more. The future prime minister passed out, and J promptly went to work trying to sleep with his girlfriend.
L asked me for a tour of the house. Two minutes later we were on my bed making out. I untied the strap around her neck, exposing beautiful breasts which I went to work on, licking gently, nibbling, sucking, feeling.
I don’t remember much more about the night, but that’s about as far as it went. Later in life I’m sure we would’ve had sex, but at 22 sex seemed more precious and sacred than it does now.
As for New Year’s Eve, J passed out in my house, missed out on our planned basketball game, and ended up staying in bed till 6pm, then going home and skipping out on New Year’s Eve altogether.
L and I never fucked, and I regret it. In fact, later, as we settled into a flirty friendship, I had fantasies of her fucking me with a strapon, something I think about regularly while touching myself in the shower.
Sex And Depression 