Where it happened: In the woods
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 5
Category: Straight
I was around the age of seven years old the first time I had sex. Well, if you can call it sex. I was too young to really know what it was.
Anyway, I was a teacher’s brat, so I would always have to stay after school with my mom. So, sometimes I would walk around the track on our recess field. It was a quaint little thing, just dirt really, with grass in the centre and fences on three sides separating it from the area of woods on two ends and the street on the other. So, I was walking on the track this particular day when I saw Charlie (another teacher’s son a few years older than me) standing on the far side of the fence. He said,
“Hey, do you want to see the sex museum.”
Now, I was too young to really understand the term sex, but certainly not too young to have a shaky connotation associated with it. So, I said yes. Why not? I climbed over the fence (not very hard, I’ve always been limber) and walked into the woods with Charlie. Once we got into the woods, there was a log lying horizontally around waist level (much lower in those days). On the log were various cylindrical objects of varying size. He told me to jerk off with whichever fit and,
“If you see white stuff, don’t let it come out.”
That was imperative.
So, I began and got myself hard. From there, we began the experiment. I had him in my hand and I had him in my mouth and I had him in my ass. There was never any pain. But it was a cold day and I remember feeling his (larger) warm body on top of me and feeling comforted. I remember the weight of it. I remember him saying,
“Wow!”
“What?” (Me)
“I’ve never got it all the way in before.”
And I’d felt proud of that. I remember feeling that having him inside of me was like taking a bit of his essence inside of me. And it wasn’t a bad feeling.
Nobody got off (how could we’ve?) but it was sex all the same.
The guilt didn’t come until later. I remember because I was shocked to find out that what we’d done was sex. That was when the guilt showed up. I freaked. I stopped seeing Charlie right then and there. And eventually, I worked up the courage to tell my mother. And after that, I didn’t see Charlie for almost eight years.
I was okay with that.
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