Where it happened: A party at his friend's house
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 7
Category: Straight
I’ve read beautiful stories on this website, and others that I really have a hard time believing are true. So far though, I haven’t read that many that actually realized their first time was perhaps a mistake. I didn’t plan on sharing MY first time because it isn’t my fondest of memories, but for whatever reason I changed my mind, so here goes nothing.
We’ll call him Ted. I hadn’t known him for very long, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t a virgin. I’d made out with a lot of guys and performed as well as received oral sex, but I’d always deep down been really curious about actually “doing it.” Perhaps the only thing that kept me from acting on my feelings was the fear of being labelled a “slut” by anyone who found out.
I thought age 15 was kind of young to be partying, but I had already developed a mild alcohol and drug habit by then. Beer and weed, nothing hardcore, but I’d grown to love that warm tingle in the base of my tummy when that buzz started to kick in. It gave me an invincible feeling, like I could take on the world… unfortunately it also kind of turned me on, which I really didn’t need considering that I was a pretty horny kid as it was.
Ted’s friends decided to throw a little get together while one guy’s parents were out of town, and a party isn’t a party without members of the opposite sex. So they got on the phone and called all the girls they thought might be interested. Many had plans already, or had significant others who wouldn’t have approved of the evening. I wasn’t part of either one of these categories, and soon after hanging up the telephone I found myself cautiously peeking through the open door of a large, well-furnished townhouse. It was kind of chilly for a summer night, but being the “fashion conscious” teenybopper, I’d decked myself out in a tight red miniskirt and strappy white tanktop, and white sandals. My blonde hair was long then, and pulled into a tight, curly ponytail. I was probably wearing too much makeup, or none at all, one of the two. Stepping cautiously around the door and into the light of the entryway, I touched my hair and slipped off my shoes. Nate, who’s parents owned the house, emerged from the kitchen carrying an armload of beers. He nodded a hello and continued into the living room to join the rest of the guys who were lounging in sofas and chairs. I recognized two girls I knew, Jessica and Carrie, but it appeared that both of them were flirting with the same guy so I didn’t bother interrupting. Someone handed me a beer and I found a spot on the floor, trying hard not to expose myself too much while sitting down.
I casually chatted with some guy whose name I forget now, trying to cleverly hide the fact that I was nipping bad from the chilly air coming in through an open window across the room. The guy kept staring at my chest, so I figured I must not be doing a very good job covering it up. I soon found that it was me doing most of the talking, as he was getting really drunk. I mumbled some comment about lightweights and stood up, making sure he caught a good peak up my skirt before I gave him an annoyed look and walked off. Guys, don’t you hate a tease?
On my way to the kitchen for more drinks, I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around quickly. It was Ted, looking slightly drunk and slightly mischevious. He told me he remembered meeting me before, and that he wanted to get to know me better. Of course I knew what he was doing, but I must not have cared too much. I didn’t really think I’d have the nerve to do anything with him anyway. I loved to tease guys and see how crazy I could drive them…I think that was a passion from an early age. Anyhow, Ted suggested we remove ourselves to a quieter upstairs room where we could “talk.” Now really. Any woman who knows ANYTHING about guys knows that if they’re feeling drunk and mischevious, the last thing they want to do is talk. Especially to a girl with slightly larger than average breasts wearing a tight tanktop and a short short skirt. Feeling quite high and mighty that a nice looking older guy was interested in me, I finished my beer and grabbed another for the trip upstairs.
We made our way through small groups of people, stopping to say hello to some but just passing by most. When we reached the foot of the stairs I looked back at the party going on without us. I was a little nervous because I didn’t know Ted that well, but what harm could a little making out do? He stepped aside for me to walk up the stairs first, and followed a ways behind me. I knew he was looking up my skirt, but I felt kind of proud that he wanted to check me out. After all, there were other girls there wearing less clothing than I, and many of them would hop into bed with the first guy who offered.
At the top of the staircase he put his arms around my waist and kissed my cheek. I giggled a little and smiled at him. He slipped one hand under my shirt and rubbed my stomach, kissing my neck. I felt kind of awkward and didn’t really know what to do, so I just stood there and let him explore. He touched my breasts through my bra and I could feel my nipples hardening between his fingertips. Slipping his fingers under the support wire, he buried them into my soft flesh but didn’t touch my nipples. His other hand had begun to roam down my hip and thigh, and up again over my ass. He moved toward my inner thigh and I let out a little sigh. Pulling his hands away quickly, he led me to a bedroom.
By this time I was feeling pretty drunk myself. Every touch of his hands felt like warm silk on my skin. He closed the door and led me toward the bed, where he sat down heavily. I was still standing, and he pulled me in front of him and lifted my shirt to kiss and caress my stomach. His hands ventured toward my breasts again and he squeezed them harder this time, rubbing in circles with his hands and twisting his thumb and index finger around my nipples. I groaned a little and he reached around and unhooked my bra with the quickness of a well practiced cassinova. Urging me to slip my arms through the straps, he lifted my tanktop until my breasts were fully exposed in the moonlight through the window. I shivered a little and he immediately took my left breast in his mouth. His tongue ran circles around my nipple and he scraped it a little with his teeth. I still didn’t feel bold enough to do anything back, so once again he just had his way with that breast and moved to the other one.
The crotch of my panties was really wet now and I really wanted to touch myself but I didn’t feel comfortable doing it in front of him. He climbed off the bed and onto the floor, me still standing in front of him. He slid my skirt up around my waist and began to kiss the damp spot between my legs. He licked my thighs and squeezed my ass while burying his nose into my wetness. When he started to slip my panties off I tried to stop him for a brief moment, but figured “what the hell. I’m on vacation.” I stepped out of the panties and as I did so he shoved his face right between my legs.
I moaned as his tongue slid over my clit and up inside me. He made low moaning sounds and I began to breathe heavily as he nibbled my clit and gently chewed it with his teeth. He pushed a finger inside me and I flinched, because it was dry and hurt a little. I’d never been fingered before, just eaten out. I’d done it to myself but I’d always lubricated with something. My vagina responded to the new sensation by secreting more juice and the discomfort easily melted away into bliss. After a short while he stopped and stood up, and began to remove his pants. I got a little scared then because I really didn’t feel like giving him a blowjob, and we weren’t actually going to even consider…”doing it”…were we?! He took off his boxers and his shirt, and fondled his throbbing erection. I started to panic then, until the relaxed drunk part of me told me not to worry, because it was only about 6 inches long. “Only?!,” I thought. “Still, that’s longer than my middle finger…”
He slid his boner between my legs rubbing it against my moist opening. I felt dazed and a little concerned. What about a condom? What about waiting until I’m married? What about knowing that this is the special someone who loves me enough to deserve this gift: my purity? He pushed me toward the bed, my mind still racing. It felt good, but I wasn’t sure this was the romantic perfect moment I’d always dreamed about. Again, the alcohol told me to relax and I relented.
He wasted no time in finding my hole and inserting the tip of his pulsing penis. I moaned again, this time more from worry and doubt. He began to enter me and I felt a twinge of pain. I whimpered slightly and he hesitated, listening. I realize now that his trained ear was probably waiting to hear any hint of the word “no,” so he could save himself from any alleged charge. I didn’t say no, although the still barely clear-thinking voice in the back of my head was whispering “What the hell are you DOING?!” I told it to shut up and tried to enjoy the experience, but the dry stinging feeling wouldnt go away. He began to pump me slowly, trying to be gentle or at least pretending to try. I felt my face getting hot, and realized I wasn’t feeling as horny as I’d thought earlier. As he picked up speed and intensity, I tried harder than ever to help him along so I could just get it over with. Suddenly I realized he wasn’t inside me anymore. “Fuck. Help me get it back in.” A sinking feeling overcame me when it became clear he hadn’t finished.
“Come on, help me. I can’t keep it up forever you know.” He shoved his way back into me and the stinging feeling multiplied. A hot tear trickled down my cheek as he pumped me even harder than before. This was NOT what I’d imagined sex like. Hell, I was practically still fully clothes, minus my bra and panties. The empty feeling returned between my legs. “God damn it. You aren’t helping much.” I told him I didn’t think I could do it anymore. I was feeling really sore and I thought I might be bleeding. He sighed in annoyance and suggested that I suck his dick, because it would hurt him to walk around with an erection all night. I told him he could just as easily masturbate and achieve the same effect, and he rolled his eyes and began tugging at his dick. I sat watching for a moment or two, a little stunned by what had just happened. My insides felt torn up. I couldn’t shake the burning feeling as I stood up and searched in the darkness for my panties.
After he’d finished and dressed himself, I was still looking for my bra. He opened the door and crossed the hall to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I found my bra and put it on, and was turning around to follow him into the hall when I saw him looking at me strange. “What’s wrong.” I told him it was nothing, that I just felt a little tired and that I thought maybe I’d had too much to drink. “Okay. Well I’m going back downstairs. Want a beer or something?” I said no thanks and went into the bathroom. I wasn’t bleeding, which was a partial relief. And at least he hadn’t come inside me, so I wasn’t too worried about him not having worn a condom. But the feeling that I’d just made a terrible mistake kept creeping over me even though I was still really intoxicated. What was his name again? Ted. Yeah…Ted was downstairs, probably telling Nate and all his friends how he just broke Virgin Abby, and then couldn’t even get her to finish the job. I wiped my eyes and tried to fix my smudged mascara. I didn’t want to face those people downstairs. I just wanted to be at home in my bed, with my cat breathing quietly and my parents snoring down the hall.
At the top of the staircase, I surveyed the scene. The small groups were even smaller now, as many drinkers had cut themselves off and gone home or decided to check out some other parties. The few who were within eyeshot of me glanced up but continued their conversations, not incredibly interested by the girl standing upstairs in the shadows. I started down toward the living room quickly and headed for the door. My sandals had been kicked to one side, and I clumsily put them on and walked out onto the porch. I hadn’t seen Ted, and I didn’t particularly want to. But shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t I tell him how I felt? Give him my phone number? Ask him if we’re officially together now or what? “Stupid girl,” I thought. “He doesn’t want to see you any more than you want to see him.” I lit a cigarette and took a long drag. How could something that seemed so fun and carefree have turned into what I then considered a big commitment? I pondered this over and over while finishing the cig. Flicking it to one side, I headed for the nearest 7-11 to use the payphone. My sister picked me up about half an hour later. I didn’t see Ted again.
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