I was living with my parents and commuting to college. My parents were going through a rough patch, so Andy came over a lot to drink with my dad in the basement and listen to him whine about my mom.

My original bedroom had been turned into a sewing room for my mom after I finished HS, so I slept in the extra room in the basement. That meant I saw a lot of Andy. My dad frequently passed out in his chair, and Andy would come hang out in my room with me.

The night it happened was basically the same as any other night we hung out. Something caused the mood to change, and next thing I know, we’re going at it in my bed. It was incredible. He was so gentle and mindful of my needs. It was perfect for my first time.

We had sex a lot after that. We would sometimes meet somewhere else, but it was usually in my room after my dad fell asleep. I absolutely fell in love with this man. I knew we could never actually be together, but I couldn’t stop myself either.

We stopped having sex after about 2 years. He met someone closer to him in age. She had no desire to have kids, like him. I wanted kids, which was a major reason a real relationship never happened.

Andy died when I was 34. I was devastated, because a part of me never stopped loving him. My dad couldn’t understand why I could barely function for about a week. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I knew he’d be furious and I didn’t want to ruin his memories of Andy.

I found some pictures of him in the back of my dad’s closet while we were packing up for him to move. They were from around the same timeframe he took my virginity. Andy’s been gone so long, but seeing those pictures felt like reopening the wound.

I guess I’ll never really get over his death completely. I’m married now, with 3 amazing children, and I’m happy. But they say you never forget your first time, and I’ll never forgot that wonderful man.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5608471&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=5310690",#48176853)