Okay. So I know this is supposed to be the "censored" version on Wattpad. But I made Bailey a promise to write a truthful account of our life, and that's what I'm going to do. And writing this next part isn't going to be easy. Under normal circumstances, it's something that would be very private. But it's going to be the truth. What happened between Bailey and I didn't go perfectly. I mean, of course it didn't. It was our first time. So please don't expect anything steamy and exaggerated like you'd read in some cheap romance novel. Just expect the bare reality of what we shared. None of which I'd change for the world.
Despite my fear that I would hurt her, Bailey didn't seem like she was worried about getting hurt at all. She whispered my name and pulled me closer.
But suddenly my fear of hurting her was all I could think about. In addition to this fear, I was also suddenly really nervous. I was nervous that I wouldn't know how to put my penis inside right, or that I would come inside her without meaning to. And this made me even more afraid that I would accidentally hurt her somehow.
She reached down and gently pulled me toward her. But I was so nervous and afraid that now my penis softened. I pressed into her awkwardly, and I returned her intense kiss, but the more I tried get a little harder—but not too hard so that I would hurt her—the softer I got.
For a while I fumbled around stupidly, pressing against her. Then I pulled away.
"I'm sorry," I said. I was so embarrassed. I'd let her down.
What was wrong with me?
"It's okay," she said, confused. "It's okay. Is something wrong?"
"I don't know," I said. I rolled away and pulled the sheets over myself. "Something's wrong with me. I'm so sorry."
"Is it me?" Suddenly she looked heartbreakingly horrified. "What am I doing wrong?"
"No! You're not doing anything wrong," I insisted, feeling horrible that I'd put her in this position all of the sudden when she was already so self-conscious. I whispered, "I want to be inside you so bad. It's all I can think about. I just . . . I don't understand."
Bailey took a deep breath and released it. "It's okay." She grabbed both of my hands and pulled me closer. "Don't worry," she said. "We'll figure it out." She smiled. "You and me, remember?"
She kissed me. "I love you," she said.
Then, without any warning, she put my penis in her mouth. I felt her soft lips, then her tongue, and the warmth of her saliva. Her hair fell around my hips. She moved awkwardly, unsure of herself, and these movements were such pure expressions of her that I fell in love with Bailey all over again then. I felt myself expand in her mouth. Suddenly, quickly, I felt almost ready to come.
I pulled away from her mouth, and slid down. We were on the edge of the bed, and now we both slipped off in a tumble of bed covers. Bailey gave me a look of surprise, her head propped against the side of the bed, her back on the floor. But she just wrapped her legs around me right there on the floor, and she grabbed my penis, already wet with saliva, and pulled me towards her. I held it too, and I pushed into her, her fingers and mine brushing against one another. I pushed further, and suddenly I felt the inside of her vagina all around me.
I was inside of her. We were making love. She looked at me, and we kissed. My head was bursting with the sheer fact that our bodies were connected.
But before my penis was all the way in, I came. I felt my semen burst inside of her. I could tell that she felt me come. She was surprised, and she held me close as my whole body heaved. I fell onto my elbow, lay my cheek against her shoulder, and my penis slipped back out of her.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered, still without having caught my breath. "I didn't mean to . . ."
What had I done? I hadn't meant to let myself come inside her. It was the last thing I'd wanted to do. I'd barely been inside her, but the physical sensation, and what I'd felt for her in that moment—what I still felt for her—had been too overwhelming to bear. I was deeply embarrassed that I'd come inside of her, and so quickly, even before we'd really started. But at the same time I felt infinitely happy about whatever it was that we'd just shared together.
"I'm so sorry," I said, afraid about what Bailey was thinking. Had I just ruined everything?
"Don't be sorry," she whispered into my ear. "This is what I want."
At this, the brute fact of Bailey's illness suddenly resurfaced in my thoughts. She was dying. It was only now, in her arms, listening to her tell me that this was what she'd wanted, as if there would be no consequences about pregnancy or anything else because her future was short, that I finally understood that Bailey was really dying. I was overwhelmed with an emptiness and a yearning that I can't begin to explain.
She pulled me closer. By now, we were both sweating a little, and my skin slid against hers. The only sound in the cottage was the faint rustling of the fire. Bailey was crying. "This is what I want," she said again, and pulled me closer. I felt myself harden. I started to cry, too. I couldn't help it. "This is what I want," Bailey whispered again, and she pulled me once again inside of her.
This time, we didn't stop making love for a very, very long time.