Where it happened: My Bedroom
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 5
Category: Straight
You could call it pretty lame, but still rather interesting I would dare to say. I was an only child with a single parent, so time should have been on my side. It had been planned since two nights before when – during one of those seven hours phone calls that so vividly marks my memory of that time – we arrived via a roundabout route to the subject of sex. At that time our relationship had existed for just over three weeks, and that giggly state of juvenile love tasted as sweet as candy whenever we got a moment alone together. Just that week we had kissed for the first time on a cold, wet October evening. We got soaked for our trouble and, in the course of drying off, I found my eyes agape at the sight of black sports bra for the first time in my life. It seems so silly now to have been so utterly dumbfounded by such a thing, but I believe that’s the charm of being so young.
Just five days later we were blessed with several free hours and an empty bedroom, and those soft blue eyes that I had already fallen so much in love with looked at me with a curious sort of rapture when I dawned upon that certain area beneath her panties. Oh, we were well enough aquatinted with the general principles of sex, but there was nothing we did together during that time that was not surrounded by extreme bouts of anxiety and childish giggling. Hearing about it was one thing. Doing it was another entirely. That afternoon my mouth also underwent a metamorphosis from a talk box to french-kissing machine. We must have been locked together in that new, odd sensation for a full hour put together, and for several minutes at any one time. If I recall, it became something of a game to us once the anxiety faded. How long could we keep this up anyway?
And in the course of those events the straying of my hand was returned in full equality, and doubtless I wanted to go father but would never have even dared to venture into such things all at once. I rushed home and wrote the entire even down – just as I had when we kissed – worried that I might forget it happened someday. I laugh heartily at such notions now, almost eight years later.
Up to that point I had experienced little more than some serious kissing and a few delightful moments of rubbing (I had also acquired a few blemishes on my neck, as had she), and it was during the following night when our seven hour phone call took place that we decided to go for it. To do the whole damn thingàwhat the hell? I recall her concern that the manhood she had placed her hand so gently upon the day before would be too large for her to take in. Unfortunately for me, that would turn out to be no problem whatsoever.
The plans were set. One of her parents – God knows why this was ever allowed to happen – would drop her off at my house sometime in the early afternoon. My single parent was working that weekend and I though for sure we would have all the time in the world, but much to my chagrin the girl didnÆt seem in any hurry to arrive. In retrospect I suppose she was either legitimately busy, or possibly getting cold feet about our plan, and either way I should have been a tad more courteous to her when I called her and said, and I paraphrase, ôWhen the hell are you getting here?ö Brewing within my chest was such a powerful mix of anxiety, love, and lust that I thought for sure that I would explode.
Finally, as darkness descended she arrived, looking wonderful (we were two outcasts in love. She was not a woman of stereotypical beauty, but she was gorgeous to me). I took her inside and kissed her by the door, and then – with time no longer so much on our side – we made our way upstairs. Our feet wrapped in blocks of ice, we kissed and fondled for awhile, I getting myself fairly well aquatinted with her breasts that were still securely underneath her shirt and bra, and then – somehow – we actually got up the strength to do it. Our hearts were beating like drums, and I donÆt suppose we were doing much thinking at that point. I donÆt know what she was thinking when I finally let my shorts slip down far enough to reveal what she had assuredly been thinking about that entire strange week, but I suspect it was an awe similar to mine when that hairy mound arrived before my eyes. In a rare moment of daring my eyes swept down for a closer look, and I thought – for just a moment – about attempting something I had heard about but not seen very much of. Alas, the moment of daring elapsed and my eyes lifted upward until they met hers, and she was nervous, I knew. So was I. So terribly nervous. I feel shamed to have missed such an opportunity, but I suppose in the end I would have been far too tongue-tied to even make the attempt.
From thereàwell, from there it just gets downright embarrassing. Up to that point everything had gone reasonably well, but we were two virgins who – in the end – knew far less than we thought we did, and it took an exasperating 15 minutes for me to find a way inside that tantalizingly unattainable treasure chest I had so successfully been aquatinted with in another way just two days before. I was about ready to run into the closet and hide from my shame when – to my surprise – I was told in a soft, affectionate tone to calm down, to relax. To grab a hold of myself. My desperation left me and, not too long after, the moment finallyàand I emphasize thisàFINALLY arrived. FINALLY we were able to discover just how little we knew what we were doing. Oh, I suppose at the time that loving grasp and the sheer novelty of the sensation made it so as wonderful as I remember, but in retrospect, it didnÆt last very long and we looked like idiots.
As a former stupid teenager I would like to send a message to all the current stupid teenagers that may come across this by accident: While it is quite extraordinary to watch ones own orgasm be displayed upon the flesh of another, and more extraordinary still to hear the words ôso thatÆs what it looks like,ö from a girl using no protection whatsoever, it was likely the most unintelligent thing I ever did in my life. DonÆt do it. Ever.
We cleaned up afterwards. Shabbily. Our necks were covered in teeth marks (a delight I have not indulged in very much since that time) and our clothing – which had remained nearly on the whole time – was marked here and there by rather conspicuous red stains. To this day I have absolutely no idea how we got away with it.
Incidentally, my path to oral enlightenment was long and slow, but eventually – long after she should by rights have left me for lack of it – I did bring her to orgasm. But thatÆs another story. For now I conclude this clumsy tale of an extraordinary week in my life by saying, simply: It was nerve racking, gut-wrenching, mind-blowing, utterly frustrating, and for the last eight years IÆve been thinking about how it all would have been so different if only I had another chance.
Ah, yesàit was absolutely wonderful 🙂
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