Where it happened: My room
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 1
Category: Straight
I was a shy guy. My self-esteem was low, and I had a rather small penis. But I had a very strong desire for love and affection.
My shyness stood like a barrier between me and girls. I was 25 years old when I first dared to get close to a woman. Her name was Marie and she was sexually experienced.
I was nervous when we kissed the first time. It was on a park bench. It felt wonderful! But when our lips parted, she laughed and told me I was sloppy. Then she taught me how she wanted to be kissed. I felt like a very little boy in her arms – a little boy who did not know how to treat a woman.
Two weeks later we were in a bed together for the first time. The sensation was incredible for me. I had never felt a woman’s breast in my hands since my mother gave up breastfeeding. We lay naked and her skin against my skin made me very aroused. Then all of a sudden Marie took my penis in her hands and led it in to her wet vagina. A wonderful moist softness engulfed my limb and sent a storm of signals to my brain and then right away down to my testicles, prostate, and out through the urethra. I came in a second. The orgasm, the first in my life induced by a woman and not by my hand or a dream, turned in to shame when Marie laughed at me.
“Was that it?”
I wanted to restore my pride as quickly as possible and in maybe only 15 minutes I had an erection again. Then I entered Marie’s body, but turned soft after a very short time. I was simply not ready for another bout. Marie laughed at me again.
Shame, frustration and disappointment made me want to die. I had been looking forward to this moment since I was a teenager. It turned in to a fiasco. Every negative thought I ever had about my small penis was in a way verified. It was obvious that Marie had noticed my size too. When we were still in bed she said:
“I am sort of glad that you have a small penis. My ex boyfriend had a really big one and it hurt inside me when we made love in some positions.”
That was definitely not comforting me. Then she went on and described how oversexed her ex had been.
“We made love all the time. Now I am kind of fed up with sex. I hope you respect that this is not new to me and that I don’t have the same degree of desire as you probably have. I know how it was for me when I was a beginner too. I wanted it all the time.”
My premature ejaculation, inability to stay hard on my second attempt, the image of her ex boyfriend’s gigantic cock that she planted in my brain, and her request to not have sex very often was an assault on my entire value as a man. Marie was my first woman, I loved her, but I hated myself. I could not leave her. Sex became a competition against her ex. Every lovemaking turned in to a struggle for revenge. Restoring my pride was the primary purpose. I did everything for her, always obsessed with being a great lover. My own sexual pleasure was lost in the process.
We were together for some years and she really loved me. But I did not love her after the humiliation she caused me the time I lost my virginity. I stayed with her because my self-esteem was low. I had to be a real man, a love-maker, before I could leave her. When I had restored my pride to the level that I could dare having a relationship with another woman it was time for me to break up with her. It was too bad because she was a wonderful woman and she loved me with all her heart. But I could not live with her because we were always three in bed. Marie, me and her ex boyfriend against whom I competed. He participated as a phantom in my mind and I hated it. Marie ruined what could have been a life long relationship by humiliating me the first time we made love. Her laughter when I came too soon, the comparison with her ex boyfriend’s penis, and her request to not have sex so often because she was fucked out, were blows that I never overcame. If she had instead expressed gratitude for being the first and unforgettable woman in my life, and never compared my penis with another man’s, then everything would have been different.
My fist time gave me scars inside that I have carried through life and the scars have influenced my relationships with other women.
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