My first time as a girl

I hesitated to write this part. Sharing the experience feels vulnerable, raw, and a little intimidating. But if I’ve learned anything from this journey, it’s that honesty can be liberating. So here it is—the moment I crossed a line I never thought I would. When M. and I arrived at his apartment, my heart was pounding. I wasn’t sure if it was from excitement or fear—probably both. His place was cozy, dimly lit, and smelled faintly of sandalwood. He poured us each a glass of wine, and we sat on his couch, talking and laughing. It felt almost surreal to be there, in this intimate space with a man who saw me not as I used to be, but as I had worked so hard to become. When he leaned in to kiss me, my breath caught. His lips were soft and sure, moving against mine with an ease I envied. I kissed him back, trying to push away the doubts in my head. Did I feel feminine enough? Was he noticing the subtle things I was trying to hide? But his hands on my waist, pulling me closer, silenced those thoughts for a moment.Soon, his kisses trailed down my neck, sending shivers through my body. I felt both exhilarated and terrified. This wasn’t just an act anymore—this was real, and I was vulnerable in a way I’d never been before.When he led me to his bedroom, I followed, my legs trembling slightly. The room was warm and inviting, with soft lighting that cast a golden glow over the bed. He turned to me, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name—desire, maybe, or tenderness. M, took his time undressing me. He started by slipping off my dress, letting it pool around my feet. I felt exposed but also strangely powerful, standing there in my lingerie, my chest rising and falling with nervous breaths. His hands were gentle as they traced the curves I had so carefully created, and for a moment, I felt beautiful in a way I never had before.When he kissed my collarbone and let his lips wander lower, I tensed up. My body didn’t match the image I wanted to project, and I was hyper-aware of that. But M. never hesitated. He treated me like I was everything I wanted to be, and that kindness melted away some of my fear.As we moved to the bed, I found myself letting go—just a little. His touch was firm but careful, his kisses deep and searching. Every move felt like a question, asking for permission, and I found myself saying yes, again and again.

When we finally came together, it was awkward at first. My mind was racing, torn between the physical sensations and the emotional weight of what was happening. The vulnerability was overwhelming. I worried about how I looked, how I sounded, whether I was doing things “right.” But M.’s patience helped me relax. He whispered reassurances, his voice soft and warm, and slowly, I let myself sink into the moment.The experience wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t like the idealized scenes I had imagined in my head. It was messy and strange, and parts of it felt uncomfortable—both physically and emotionally. But it was also deeply intimate. For the first time, I wasn’t just performing; I was present, experiencing something raw and real. There was a moment, somewhere in the middle, when I locked eyes with M.. In that gaze, I felt something I hadn’t expected: acceptance. He wasn’t looking at me as someone incomplete or out of place. He saw me as I wanted to be seen, and that was enough to bring tears to my eyes.Afterward, we lay there in silence, our bodies tangled together. My mind was a storm of emotions—guilt, relief, joy, confusion. I felt exposed, like I’d shown a part of myself I could never take back. But I also felt a strange sense of peace. I had crossed a line I never thought I would, and while it was scary, it was also freeing. This was more than just a first experience with a man; it was a step toward understanding and embracing who I truly am.