T.

His name was T. He was a really nice guy and he had this big 3 story house. At some point, due to my own volatile relationship with my mother, most likely, I moved into his house. I was probably 18 at the time. He also had this young couple who hated each other but they had 2 kids and also lived there. But we were all pretty happy though. Sort of like a frat house for social rejects! :)
But then the young couple took their kids and moved back to NY and so it was just Tom and I. We rarely saw each other. He worked nights, I worked days. We were buddies. He really was a nice guy. Then 1 night, we were home together and we were drinking and we ended up in bed together. I remember very little about that night, except that he was the first person who ever smacked my ass in a sexual context. That I remember. He did it a few times, hard enough to feel it and I loved it. I want to say he pulled my hair also, but I can't be sure. We never really talked about it, never really had sex again. Shortly afterwards I moved out to start college and I haven't seen him since. I smile when I think about him though. Considering that in the 21 years since I've found 1 person willing to engage with me in this and that's just been in the last 3 months, of course I'm going to fondly hold onto the ONLY memory I have. But I thank him...wherever he is...