Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Tomorrow, by Medea (medeafk@hotmail.com)

   I was fifteen the first time I had sex.  I'd been dating Dan since
Christmas, but we were friends longer than that.  We met at a summer
Shakespeare workshop, this six-week-long thing where we spent all day
learning and rehearsing, and then performed at the community center at the
end.  We were doing Macbeth, so of course I wanted to be Lady Macbeth, but
instead ended up as one of the witches.  It was a fun part, all the same.
Dan was in charge of the sound crew, and sometime during dress rehearsals
we started doing stuff in the evenings, after the workshop was over for the
day.

   We continued to hang out a lot after it ended, going to movies, talking
on the phone about homework and the crazy teachers at our different
schools, but he was just this cool guy I spent time with, nothing romantic.
And then Christmas vacation, we were sitting on the couch in his parent's
basement, watching TV, and all of a sudden he leaned over and kissed me.  I
was in shock, I had no idea he liked me that way.  It all clicked, though,
and so after that, we were dating.

   In February he turned sixteen, and his parents gave him keys to the old
beater of a car they'd been holding onto for him.  Suddenly we had a lot
more privacy on dates, if we wanted it.  We took advantage of this, of
course, to drive to the woods just outside of town and make out in the back
seat.  One Sunday night in March, we were kissing and groping and trying to
make the most of the hour left until curfew.  A bit of early spring weather
made it warm enough without the car's heater to take off more clothes than
usual, and we were so into it, so turned on, that groping led to more, and
we had sex for the first time.

   The next day, I had to get up and go to school, but I couldn't focus on
anything other than the night before.  The experience followed me around
all day.  When I dressed for school, I thought about the way he had touched
me, when I looked into the mirror, I wondered if anyone could see the
difference.  I certainly felt changed, and I kept having to repress the
urge to dance around and sing.

   I daydreamed my way through all of the morning classes, remembering each
moment, the thick feeling of pleasure still filling my body.  I recalled
lying against the side wall of the car, skirt up around my waist, him with
his hand between my legs, kissing me.  His hard cock, half-constrained by
his shorts, pressed against my thigh.  I let him slide my underwear off,
making me more accessible to his touch.  Then I released his cock from his
clothes, and stroked him, looking with lust into his eyes.  "I want to be
inside you," he said, fumbling a condom out of his pocket.  I nodded, eager
to feel it, eager to take this last step.

   We switched around, and he sat slouching back on the seat, pulling his
shorts off and awkwardly trying to roll the condom on.  When he was ready,
I straddled him, and tried to lower myself down, but his cock kept slipping
out of place.  Finally he managed to hold it at the right angle, and the
tip slid inside me.  Biting my lip, hoping it wouldn't hurt, I pushed down,
feeling him stretch me open.  It didn't hurt at all, though, it felt
incredible, and soon we were fucking faster, gasping for air and steaming
up the car windows, and oh, it was so good.

   Then the bell rang, bringing me out of my memories and back to the
classroom.  At lunch, Marissa, who had been my best friend since third
grade, picked up immediately that something had happened and wouldn't leave
me alone until she knew the details.  "Out with it Jess," she said. 
"What're you so thrilled about?" I just kind of blushed and grinned, not
sure what to say.  "Did you and Dan...?  Oh, I bet that's it.  No wonder."
I nodded, almost embarrassed.  "Was it good?  How was he?"

   "It was...  I don't even know what to tell you.  It was great."

   "Lucky girl.  Much better than the 'take her and leave her' act that
Andy pulled with me, I'm sure."

   Marissa was still a little bitter about her first time.  Her now
ex-boyfriend Andy not only ditched her a week later, but then she found out
that he'd told a highly exaggerated version of events to his friends.  I
was definitely glad that nothing so humiliating had happened to me.

   The rest of the day continued at the same level of distraction, and
after school I rushed home to call Dan.  We talked and talked for hours,
until our parents got home, and made a date for Friday, which seemed the
soonest we could get away with staying out late again.  We met at least
once a week after that, to repeat that first Sunday in the car.  I loved
sex, I discovered, and while my schoolwork probably suffered, those weeks
and nights were magical for me, making me feel alive and sexy in a way I
couldn't have even imagined before.

   It ended eventually, of course.  In June I discovered that the reason he
had been avoiding me lately was because he had started seeing some girl
from his school.  I was devastated, and we had a melodramatic break-up
involving angry phone calls where I would yell and cry, not understanding
how he could leave me, while he tried to give me comfort I didn't want,
saying it wasn't my fault, there was just this other person, and he hoped
we could be friends again someday.

   Eventually I got over it, though, and moved on.  After things settled
down, I was able to look upon our relationship more fondly, for the
enjoyable experience that it was.  Now when I think back, I'm reminded of
Macbeth's soliloquy about the passing of time:

   To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

   Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

   To the last syllable of recorded time,

   And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

   The way to dusty death.  Out, out, brief candle!

   Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

   That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

   And then is heard no more: it is a tale

   Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

   Signifying nothing.

   And somehow, that makes me smile.