The First, Part II

My first sexual experience was actually not long after Troy moved out from the condo above ours. In his place, a nice family that included a boy and his teenage sister, moved in. Peter was my age, 9 or 10, and we hit it off right away. Incidentally, I had THE BIGGEST CRUSH on his sister, Margot. Back then, I was a raging tomboy and had friends of both genders, though for a while, my best friends were boys. We could run around, ride our bikes, sword fight, skateboard, and do fun, typically boyish activities. Peter was my absolute best friend in the whole world. We spent vacations, trips, and all our free time together, usually at his house because he had the best toys; a Nintendo, Legos, and G.I. Joes. We may even have had a sleepover or two, but we were at that age when parents start having concerns about budding sexuality. Rightly so, it turns out.

I'm not entirely sure how it started, but Peter and I invented sex games that involved dry humping. I'm almost reticent to describe this as my first sexual experience, because despite it being a sexual activity, I don't think either of us knew much more than what we did felt good. There was never any nudity or orgasming, just one of us lying on top of the other and thrusting away. I wish I could remember what we called it. Sometimes we'd draw pictures of animals on my magnetic drawing board and then attempt to "do it" like that animal, which involved occasional doggy-style positions.

I've known about sex since my mom gave me a children's "How Babies Are Made Book" in second grade, but I'm not sure I truly connected what Peter and I did to sex. At least not more than in an abstract way. Both of us knew that what we were doing was "bad" and that we should do it in private or when our parents weren't around. We didn't do it all the time, but it was frequent enough that if I met him today, I would be supremely embarrassed. We did a pretty good job of not getting caught, although my mom did confront me once to ask what Peter and I were doing. Apparently she'd walked in on us, and instead of saying something at the time, or making us stop, she quietly slipped out and closed the door. My mom is pretty cool about a lot of things, and I'm grateful that she comes from the school that understands that sexual exploration between kids of that age is fairly innocent and not something to be freaked out about. I was so caught off-guard by her question that I flat out lied and denied everything. When she saw that I wasn't going to admit it or explain, she dropped it.

I can't remember if we ever stopped on our own, but my family ended up moving when I was about 11, and Peter and I drifted apart. We lived in the same city, but went to different schools.. he was a budding adolescent boy, I a girl.. you know how those things go. Later, when I hit my teens, I looked him up in the phone book and considered calling to catch up, but realized that I was far too embarrassed at our shared history of fooling around. I figured he might be, too, especially at that age.

For a few years after Peter, I experienced a hanky-panky drought. No fooling around with my girlfriends at sleepovers, no messing around with boys. Just masturbation, and lots of it. At 14 or 15, things started picking up again. I went on a few dates, and even made out with a boy in my room. The problem was that I went to a very small private high school, so the pickins were slim, in addition to it being the beginning of my struggle with being way more attracted to girls than boys. I fought the good fight until I was about 18, trying very hard to be straight.

My first "real" sexual encounter came when I was 15. SC was a cute, popular senior that on-and-off dated a popular girl (on whom I had a big crush), and he had previously never really given me the time of day. We were sitting in the lounge area of the library when he passed me a note that said, "I want to fuck you." Completely out of the blue, but it totally turned me on. We passed notes back and forth discussing the subject, I expressed interest back, and we talked about when and how we'd do it. Nothing concrete came of it that day, but he'd set my mind in motion.

A few days later, after I settled on a plan, I approached him and said, "I know where we can fuck." His interest piqued, he cocked his head at me and asked where. I told him, and a slow smile spread across his lips. He nodded and we agreed we'd meet there after school.

I almost lost my virginity in the school darkroom. There was virtually no one at school, and with the double door system, we would have some warning if someone tried to come in. It was a genius plan. By the time we made it there, I was scared and having second thoughts. I told him I wasn't sure I wanted to go all the way and that I was afraid. To his credit, he didn't act overly surprised or disappointed, and just told me I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to. He turned the lights out and sort of hugged me for a while, my head on his chest. The radio was on in the darkness and I will never forget that moment, being on the precipice of sex for the first time, being in this guy's arms, and hearing Rodney King say his famous line, "Can't we all just get along?"

I finally worked up the courage to lift my head so that SC could kiss me. We kissed for a while, and he took my hand and placed it on his crotch so that I could feel his hard cock through his shorts. I'd been reading and fantasizing for years, and somehow I knew exactly what to do. Even though it was my first time, it was never awkward for me. I rubbed his cock through his shorts, and he squeezed my breasts. His hands went under my shirt and undid my bra. His shorts came off, as did mine. I stroked his bare cock and he played with my nipples. I was so unbelievably turned on and wet.

I knelt in front of him and administered my first-ever blowjob. As I said previously, somehow I knew exactly what to do. I'd been thinking and fantasizing about it for what seemed like forever. With his hand in my hair, I licked and sucked at him, taking his cock in my mouth and bobbing my head to slip it in and out. At one point, he leaned down and said in my ear, "Are you sure you've never done this before?"

Because I didn't like the idea of him coming in my mouth, I stopped after a while and stood up. He pulled me close to him, placing the head of his cock against my pussy. We may have kissed some more, but what I remember is us thrusting our hips together, the soft skin and hardness of his cock stimulating my clit in just the right way. I held on to him and thrust my way to my first orgasm with another human being. I can't even describe just how fucking good and hot it was!

We weren't finished, though, and he lifted me up on the counter, placing our hips at the same level. He was really hard at this point, and I stroked him some more. He moved forward enough to place his cock against my pussy again, in the same way that felt so fucking good. He rubbed against me just right, slowly, getting me all worked up again. I felt his warm breath in my ear as he asked me if I wanted him to put it in. I was at the point of arousal where I would have done anything, and I wanted him in me more than life itself. I wanted to be fucked. While that part of me was screaming YES, the scared, inexperienced part of me wouldn't shut up. Not only was I not sure I wanted this to be my first time, I was too afraid or embarrassed to inquire about a condom. I knew well enough to not even think about sex without protection. Nowadays, I have no problem, but at that moment, I was too inexperienced to feel confident about asking. Plus, if he said yes, then I felt I was locked in. I wanted to beyond words, but did I really want to? So when he asked me if I wanted him to enter me, I had YES! in bright, bold letters in my head, but the word no came out of my mouth.

He continued thrusting, his cock sliding in my wet pussy folds and teasing my clit. I held on to him, wanting him in me so badly, still debating my decision. I found myself clutching at him, lost in pleasure, reaching the edge of climax, and then being pushed over again. Recounting this entire experience now gets me so wet. It was so hot.

We may have made out a bit longer, but it ended after that. I didn't know enough about how things worked to determine whether he'd gotten off or not, and it honestly was not my intention to leave him blue-balled after getting me off twice. A tease I am not, and never have been. If I could go back to that moment, I would have made sure he got his, too.

After that afternoon, things went back to normal between us. He hung out with his friends, I hung out with mine. There was never a repeat experience, although I offered once. That day, however, was masturbation fodder for years.