There's a difference between love and lust
This story I wrote down with many stops and starts, so my excuses for that from the start. I don't think that I should try to put down my "first time" love story with too much care. After all, love usually hits one without warning and first love especially creeps up without much care about how one will look after the event. As a teenager I was "socially disfunct", so much so that I didn't have many real friends, nor the knowledge of how important having those are either. Due to various problems at school with expressing myself one caring teacher decided that I needed some extra help. From the age of 15 years and onwards I had to have "extra hours", one hour a week with a language specialist and one hour a week with a psychiater. The shrink was a really neat writer of children's stories who was doing her work at the boarding school more out of idealism rather than the more selfish monetary goals most of the teachers and other councilors had. Anyhow, during that period of more than two years I started my long journey of discovery, the quest for what true love really is and what indeed is the purpose of life. It all began with the advice of dear Vicky the psychiater that I should try to improve my social and language skills by getting some old-fashioned snailmail penpals. Without any clear thought of how, why or for what, I placed a little advert in a magazine that she put forward. It is a very well know publication called Loot and I would recommend it to everyone. However, back then I didn't quite understand the simple fact that a word like "student" wouldn't have the same meaning in English as it has in Dutch, and because I didn't even mention my age I got quite a few replies of people who actualy thought that I was studying at university. Most of those "adult" replies I simply threw away, but one caught my eye almost immediately. It was from a Canadian woman who was looking for a penpal who was openminded, sexy and young enough to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. I was intriged at first, and later on became absolutely captivated by her. We exchanged one letter a month, regular as clockwork. In our letters we discussed everything under the sun, but somehow it always got back to sensuality. She told me a bit about her past life as a ******** and nude model, and I wrote her back telling her about my interest in art history and anything else that felt oh so sensual to me. We both shared a passion for photography, and as a semi-professional she always was interested in my views. Black and white ones with the model wearing leather or black were my own favourite ones. Today I've moved on and know that it was wrong of me not to tell her my real age straight away. After the first five letters I just couldn't any more because I was head over heels in love with her and I was indeed deadly afraid of her reaction. Yes, we talked about life and all its riches in our letters, although I now believe that she was indeed lusting more after the young woman behind the letters than falling in love with me. The whole situation turned still more embarrasing for me when she started sending me "naughty pictures" from her past. I kept them well hidden and only looked at them when reading her letters. Of course, my penfriend wanted a picture of myself in exchange. What should I reply? I decided on taking a couple of naughty pics of myself with a friend's polaroid camera and taping it inside a little enveloppe with the message "for your eyes only", and inside a long letter I tried to explain that I wasn't really eighteen but sixteen. My surprise was great when I got her next letter after a month of nervously waiting. She would actually keep on writing to me for another year, telling me constantly that I needed to look for love on my side of the Atlantic. I didn't like her answers to my constant questioning afterwards though. In short her own "early to puberty" story which I puzzled together, was that her uncle had been a photographer and had introduced her to sex at a very young age. Well, I didn't like that at all because of my own past experience. How can it be right that a loving adult would interfere sexually with a youngster? People who target kids are wrong, period. When I did try to confront my friend with this, that her uncle had been wrong, had wronged her and one couldn't call it love in a long shot, she simply discontinued our correspondence. I guess that the truth was hitting too hard. Thus must end my "first time" love story. I hope that my old penfriend is well.