Thursday, February 02, 2006

Popping the Cherry...and Happy HNT



I was seventeen when I lost my virginity. Of course, that's relatively old by today's standards, but I had wanted to wait until I knew it was right. I wanted passion. Moonlight and roses...the stuff of fairy tales that I'd read in the Harlequin Romances I had stolen from my mother's collection. I thought it had to be with someone I loved. That someone was Scotty.

Scotty was nineteen, a hockey player and the older brother of a girl with whom I had trained. He was handsome. Tall and muscular with bright blue eyes and dark messy hair. He had a smile that made me want to take my panties off and hand them to him the very second he graced me with it. And of all the girls at the ice rink, he wanted me.

We dated for months, seeing one another on weekends and holidays when he came home from Purdue. The distance between us only added to the intensity of the situation. Young and foolish, we'd spend countless hours professing our undying love to one another as I hid under my comforter in an attempt to hide the fact that I was on the phone from my mother.

The kisses and the touching were all new to me. I was petrified and exhilarated all at once, and we pushed it a little further every time we were together. First, his hand under my shirt, then later, under my bra. Next a gentle rub over my pants, then suddenly his hands were in them, touching me in a way I'd never been touched before.

He was gentle with me...he moved slowly but with the confidence of a man twice his age. When he finally slipped his fingers inside of me, I felt light-headed. It wasn't until later that I realized I'd had my first orgasm. He never let me touch him, and though I was curious as to why, I was grateful that he took so much time trying to please me. I never questioned it. I just knew I was happy, and that was all that mattered.

That summer, his parents and his sister left on vacation for two weeks. Scotty stayed home because we had decided it was time for us to take the final physical step in our relationship. I remember it was a Saturday, and I had told my parents I was sleeping over at my friend Darcy's house.

When I arrived at Scotty's house, I was blown away. Everything was as I had imagined it should be...soft lighting, candles, flowers and music. He knew it was my first time, and he had worked so hard to make it perfect for me. For me, there was no fear of what was about to happen. His thoughtfulness comforted me and put my mind at ease.

After dinner, he grabbed my hand and led me upstairs to his bedroom. More candles and music...it was lovely. He undressed me, piece by piece, button by button. I pulled his shirt over his head, and then removed his belt. He gently lifted me and laid me down, my head resting at the foot of the bed. He took off his jeans while I watched, and I can remember thinking how great he looked in his boxer shorts.

He laid down next to me and we began kissing. After I while, I grew restless. I tugged at his boxers, moving them down just far enough so I could push them down the rest of the way with my toes. When they were almost all the way down, he rolled away from me and reached for a condom. I was a bit disappointed at how quickly he'd moved. Other than in pictures, I'd never seen a completely naked man, and I really wanted to take all of him in.

When he came back, he quickly moved on top of me and kissed me again. I moved my legs apart, and he laid between them. I was excited, and happy, and I couldn't wait to finally have him inside of me. And then it happened...

I felt his fingers, and then something else, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. Suddenly he started moving up and down, his thighs slapping against mine. What the hell? What's going on? I said, "Scotty, I want you inside of me. Please don't make me wait any longer."

He said, "I am in you, baby," and just kept going...up & down, up & down, thighs slapping against mine. What the fuck?

And then it hit me. He's small. Very, very small. Like, "I can't feel a goddamn thing" small. That's why he never let me touch him, and why he rolled away from me so quickly. Jesus Christ! Say it ain't so!

So I laid there, head tilted back, watching a muted re-run of Fantasy Island upside-down, listening to Depeche Mode's "Somebody" in the background, until Scotty and his little penis finally finished jack-hammering away at my thighs. To this day, I still have no idea how he came. I sure as hell couldn't feel anything, so how could he?

When he'd finished, he rolled over, kissed me deeply and said, "I love you, baby. That was incredible." I didn't have the heart to tell him what I really felt, so I lied. "Yeah, Scotty. That was great."

I won't bore you with the rest of the details, but needless to say, Scotty and I didn't last much longer. Wonderful as he was as a person, my immature mind couldn't get past the disappointment of that night. I know I hurt him when I broke it off, but even at seventeen, I knew that sex would be an important part of my life. I knew I needed more than what he was capable of giving me.

It was a while before I had sex again. As a matter of fact, I waited until I got to college...and I want to say thank you to John Hess, with his big, beautiful penis for finally showing me what good sex is really all about.



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