Everywhere you look, folks are talking about being “turnt up”.  Well, turning it up is fine every once in a while.  But if you ask me, I’d rather be turned out!

No, I don’t mean turned out on drugs or by a pimp!  I mean turned out in a good way with some good, old-fashioned, mind-blowing, head-banging, thigh quivering, toe-curling, slap-yo-mama sex!

Do you remember the first guy who turned you out, sexually?  Not the first guy you slept with, because everybody talks about that one.  This isn’t about your first time.

I’m talking about the first man to take your sex game to a whole new level.  You know … the first guy who had you speaking in tongues and praying to deities you didn’t even know existed.  He’s the one who had you making those ugly faces in bed, and not caring if you sweated out your hair.

I’m talking about the one who made you get so nasty you couldn’t even look him in the eye afterwards.  He had you doing things you’d only heard about and you loved it!  In fact, he probably taught you things about your own body that you’d never even imagined.  And to this day, you still get compliments on the skills you learned under his patient instruction.

Remember him?  Yeah, that’s the one.  You know exactly who I’m talking about now, don’t you?  What was his name?

Mine was Orlando*.  We met when I was young and getting over a break-up.  I wanted to enjoy my freedom, but wasn’t looking for a serious relationship.  Besides, Orlando wasn’t really my “type”.  It’s not that he was ugly or anything.  But he was a lot older than me, and seemed so serious all the time.

We met through mutual friends and I could tell he was interested right away.  But I really wasn’t feeling him.  I was young and carefree and he seemed so mature and … well, boring.

Boy was I wrong!  Boring?  Not even a little bit.  He turned my young ass all the way out!  Dude had me crawling out of my skin and climbing the walls!  And all the men I’ve been with since owe him a huge debt of gratitude.

It started at a small party.  I was in a horrible mood when I arrived because I’d just found out my ex had moved on to a new girlfriend.  Not that I wanted him back, it just sucked that he’d gotten over me so fast.

My friends insisted I go to this party just so I wouldn’t sit at home feeling sorry for myself.  So I got there pretty late and socialized just enough to not seem rude.  And then I sat at the bar to drown my sorrows.  I was on my second drink when Orlando made his move.

Maybe it was the brown liquor.  Maybe it was my crappy mood and my bruised ego.  Whatever it was, Orlando didn’t seem all that boring that night.  He was attentive without being pushy, and he even managed to make me smile.  I was surprised to find myself enjoying his company.

In hindsight, I realize Orlando played me like a fiddle.  Anyone with eyes could read my mood that night.  He just bided his time and then said all the right things.  The alcohol didn’t hurt, either.

Anyway, it didn’t take much for Orlando to convince me to go to his place that night.  Mind you, I wasn’t drunk.  I knew exactly what I was doing.  Still, driving was out of the question and I’d had just enough to be able to blame any later regrets on the alcohol.  Plus, he was doing wonders for my ego.

What followed was a night so satisfying I still fantasize about it to this day!  Orlando rocked my world from the moment we stepped into his 2nd floor apartment until my walk of shame the next morning.  I went to his place expecting nothing more than a little pick-me-up from my bad mood.  What I got instead was a lesson in all night passion and mind-blowing sex.

Orlando was so good because he was patient and attentive.  He took my body to paradise slowly, paying close attention to what worked and what didn’t.  For the first time in my young life, I was with a man who was more concerned about my pleasure than his own, and that was a revelation.  He introduced me to erogenous zones I didn’t even know existed, and made every single nerve ending in my body come alive!

He also taught me how to make a man writhe with pleasure.  He tweaked my blow job style, patiently talking me through new tricks and skills.  Because he made me feel so good, I wanted to please him.  So I was more than willing to let him guide me.

Nothing was forced or rushed.  It didn’t feel like a race to the finish.  In fact, Orlando showed me how good it can be when you delay your release, staying right at the precipice of nirvana for as long as possible.  Under his patient tutelage, I learned how to enjoy the journey to the orgasm as much as the orgasm itself.

Speaking of orgasms, that night I had several.  For the first time, I knew how it felt to be multi-orgasmic and it changed my life!  Even better, I learned how to make them last, riding wave after wave of pleasure until I was breathless and weak.

I still get chills just thinking about it.

It wasn’t about love or romance that night.  It was about pure, unbridled pleasure.  I’d grudgingly gone to a party to nurse a bruised ego and stumbled upon a generous, skillful lover who totally rocked my world.  I don’t know where Orlando is now, but I’m grateful for everything he taught me.  He truly helped make me the woman I am today.

So ladies, let’s raise a glass to our sexual Svengalis, the ones who gave us our first real taste of ecstasy.  We owe them at least that much.  After all, without their patient coaching, we wouldn’t be the sexual divas we are now, would we?

*Y’all already know that’s not his real name, right?  Names and details are always changed to protect the not so innocent!


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