Stories of people's first times are awesome. A lot of them are funny. Some of them are tragic. Most of them remind us of our own first time. Remind us that, when we were young only so many things mattered. Sex was most of them. I was a freshman in high school. The biggest worry I had was getting to school on time (something i did not excel at). I was also involved with the theater at my high school. Call me a theater geek and I'll agree with you every time. What I remember most about the theater were the girls. Somehow, being on stage made them less inhibited about things like, say, their clothing coming off, or experimenting with something more than just a deep kiss.
I don't regret my first time having sex. I'd say it set me up for how I am in bed now. I am very sexually zen about my life between the sheets. I've always been intrigued by the pleasure of my partner. I know some of that is my own personality. Looking back at my first experience, though, I'm reminded how I felt, how I perceived what was happening. It started there. I've been addicted to sex ever since.
She wasn't the gorgeous head of the cheerleading squad. She wasn't even the semi-gorgeous straight-A student who had a wild side (I'll tell you more about her at some other time). She was just a friend. A friend that used to pick me up and drive me to theater rehearsals after school. We had fooled around a few times. She was very curious for her age and we tried things that we certainly new to me. "You want me to put my hands where?".
One spring afternoon, she came by, as usual, to pick me up for practice. She left the car running and came inside. I'm not sure why, but we started "making out". Somehow (a little fuzzy with these details) we wound up in my bed, with most of her clothing strewn about the house. She mentioned in a very matter of fact way that we should fuck. I didn't disagree. I found the condom (i only had one, a friend had given it to me) and quickly resumed the "making out". I didn't make any move to go any further. She did.
It was (as it may have been for some others) a shocking experience. I kept wondering, "what the hell am I doing?". I guess I was doing something right because, her being the more "experienced" one, she quickly had an orgasm. Yes, I'm sure she did. Like I said, she was the experienced one and she confirmed it for me later. I, however, was so intrigued by the entire process that I forgot I was supposed to do the same thing. Instead I remembered a rather interesting fact. Her car was still running in the driveway.
We stopped. She asked me if it was ok that we stopped since I hadn't, as she put it "enjoyed myself" as much as I could. I laughed and said it was fine, we'd have to do it again soon. We never did. We rushed out to the car, got to the rehearsal and as we were climbing out of the car, she gasped. "I left my bra on your bed." I groaned and pictured my mother, walking past my room and seeing some girl's not-so-big lacy bra laying across my unmade bed. I didn't have a choice. I went to rehearsal.
That night, I got home, went immediately to my room and the bra was gone. I don't know where it was. I knew exactly where it had been. But it was gone. I expected the wrath of my mother. What I got was nothing. Absolutely not a question or statement to indicate she knew anything. I still don't know what happened to that bra. I can't bring myself to ask my mother, even 15 years later. It's a mystery I don't want to solve. That girl lost her bra, and I lost my virginity. Sounds like a fair trade to me.
