+18 years

Youth must happen

Tired Youth, 156, Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash

If you read me these last months, you will notice that I am a bit lost between adolescence and 30 years old.

At times, I dream of settling down, meeting someone and burying myself in a couple full of complicity and tenderness… And then at other times, I live as if I were 20 years old, I flutter around and do anything.

This evening was the proof of my teenage crisis that resurfaces.

An after work party that got out of hand

It was a farewell party like any other, we were almost all there, drinking beers and cocktails.

I was determined not to leave too late, I even set an alarm clock… but Madeleine’s meters of shooters got the better of my reason. And not only mine, by the way.

You know those evenings, when your memories are fuzzy and confused, when the chronology seems absurd. She’s one of them.

When I kissed him, I don’t know. Why did I kiss him? Because he was very cute. How? With my usual hunting technique, no doubt.

It’s not that I kissed him that surprises me, but that I gave him my number. To have had the presence of mind to give him those 10 digits, and to go back to dancing with my band.

In this bar, I would not meet him again, in this bar, I would not ask him his first name, nor his age. To tell the truth, in that bar I almost forgot him.

I was not satisfied with his lips, that’s for sure. In fact, my memories come flooding back when my teeth came into contact with the back of one of my colleagues’ necks.

Oops girl, really? Again. Obviously, a new one. Oh, not going to lie, this had been brewing in my mind for a little while.

But the young man is only half receptive. He lets himself go, but when I try to kiss him, he gives me a nice stop.


It is blurred, but I feel offended. Offended, hurt, I am stung to the core. The bar is going to close anyway. So angrily, I give my colleague one last look of disappointment, grab my stuff and leave without a word.

At the time, I don’t understand why he resists me. Honestly, they were my lips on the hollow of your neck, right?

I walk quickly and nervously in search of a Vélib. All gone or dead. I shout. From the outside, I must look terrible.

And as I struggle to find a well-stocked bike station nearby, I get a text message.

“Hi Mylene Unedited, Where are you sleeping?”

I only vaguely remember her face and clearly not her first name.

My annoyance subsides a bit, and so does my frustration. We have a mini-moon conversation via text message, both of us as drunk as each other.

He ends up joining me, at the corner of the street. Shit, I had forgotten that he was so cute… and so young !

I take him with me in my search for bikes.

Docile and benevolent

Obviously to motivate him in our quest, I try to make pauses to tackle him against the walls that we cross, and kiss him in a very equivocal way.

At the same time, I speak to him about my disappointment of not having succeeded in kissing my colleague. We oscillate between a beastly desire and an almost psychological discussion on seduction.

Finally, we find some bikes, and only the discussion can continue.

Arrived at my place, I observe him greedy. He is really younger. He says he is 23 years old, but I have big doubts. Inwardly, I know that he is barely in his twenties. His face is still doll-like, his body is that of a man in the making.

He looks like the teenagers played by adults in the TV series, with athletic and beardless bodies.

I’m going to eat you up, my boy.

I approach, I take off his coat, his pupils also pierce me of desire. We kiss, and I take the lead.

This kiss, it is mine, it is me who guides it, then inevitably, it is perfect. The caresses become more intimate, our lips leave our mouths to settle on our napes, then on the parts of our bodies which are undressed progressively.

Oops… the youth which does not get up…

We cling, we bite each other, and when he grabs my thong to slide it on my legs, I feel his tongue attacking my forbidden fruit.

It is good, but it lacks experience, I try to indicate him by small sighs, but it is lost. Then I catch his face, and I pull him towards my lips.

His body crushes mine, and his soft lips caress mine, it is so good. I want him very, very badly, I want him inside me.

I run my fingers down his abs, and slip them into his boxers. My phalanges catch a beautiful… half-molasses. His look changes a little, he looks confused.

“I’ve had too much to drink, I think.”

Ouch, the classic. It’s not the first time, nor the last. I try some movements. I push him to regain the advantage, and I find myself on top of him kissing him.

“Um, I’ll see what I can do…”. My lips go down slowly on his body, they taste every bit of skin. I linger on his beautiful drawn belly.

My fingers catch her boxer shorts, and I finally release the fruit of my desire from its shackles. It is initially my hand, then my mouth which take care to caress it.

If it stiffens under my body heat, when I move away to go to seek a condom, the half-molasses is back.

He grabs me by the hips, sticks me against his warm body. And says to me: “I won’t make it tonight, sorry.

A hug and a nice talk

His arms are welcoming, he’s soft, he’s cuddly and he smells good. I snuggle up to him.

And there for a good hour and a half, we talk. Finally, he asks questions and I tell him.

He is hyper curious, he asks me intimate questions about my life, my lovers, my loves. With as much honesty as possible, I answer him, I tell him everything. Probably too much.

He is so attentive, soft and listening. I give myself up, completely. His youthfulness shows in his words. And when there is nothing more to tell, when the eyelids become heavier than the desire to continue to discover each other, we fall asleep curled up against each other.

It is in this same position that we wake up at dawn.

He lives in the 16th, he has class, he has to leave.

A last morning attempt
I force him to stay a little longer. He allows himself to do so, his lips go through my neck and make me shiver. They join then mine and our kiss becomes more and more sensual.

As the day before, we are not stingy of kisses. The caresses become more naughty, and once again, I want it in me.

I feel that it band, then I catch under the pillow the intact condom of the day before. He grabs it, and tries to put it on, but our nightmare from the night before comes back.

Too bad, he tries everything. He puts it on a softer than hard one, and we try like this. Failure.

I feel that he is ashamed. He takes me in his arms, withdraws, gives me one last kiss on the lips and heads for the bathroom.

Oops, I must have told him too much yesterday, for sure. He comes back, and apologizes, he has to go. With a quick movement, he grabs his boxers, then his jeans.

How beautiful he is, there in the morning light, shirtless with his jeans. I would like to make my breakfast out of it. Slowly, I get out of the comforter and approach him.

My breasts stick against his chest and I kiss him. He hugs me tightly, I tell him in a suave voice.

“You are so beautiful.

He answers me with a smile. “But you too, you are beautiful, you know.

Then he disengages himself, I accompany him until the door, by nourishing it of kisses. My eyes look at him going down the first steps.

I am naked in the frame of the door, and I do not care.

Goodbye, Maxime (one more!) or rather farewell. We both know that this was only a parenthesis in our lives.