I have never met a single person who truly enjoyed their first time. All of our memories are filled with awkward limbs, sounds we didn’t even know we could make, and when it boiled down to it, nervousness verging on panic. Well, at least, that’s how I felt.
My boyfriend and I had been dating for a couple of months by that point, and, ya know, we’d experimented in a few bits here and there. I remember saying that I wanted to wait until my seventeenth birthday just because I thought it sounded better to say. I might have been lying to myself, making up excuses for the plain and simple fact that I just wasn’t ready. If I’m being honest, I don’t really remember it all that well. That is how monumental it was to me. I think it was after school one day. Things started to heat up: first, the polyester blazer came off, then the school tie was yanked away, and we fiddled at the buttons on our cheap cotton white shirts until eventually we lay, skin to skin. And he said, obviously caught up in the heat of the moment, “Shall we just go for it?”
I said nothing in response. My whole body tingled with shock and then internal panic. But without even waiting for my response, he started searching through my drawer to find the condoms that I’d saved for a later date. And I still lay there, mute.
I swallowed my panic and thought to myself how it would be better to get it out of the way. I always did that back then. Bit my tongue. I didn’t know any better. Now, I’d hope I would say something, but it doesn’t much matter. It didn’t last for very long anyway. I insisted that we go under the covers because the mere thought of seeing our bony bodies, pink with heat and sweat, awkwardly colliding against each other was revolting. But this only made the heat and sweat ten times worse. He didn’t know he needed to hold himself up, so all of his weight pressed down on top of me as he pumped inside one, two, three times, and then, silence…
I wouldn’t say that I was disappointed at all because my expectations were never particularly high. Sex had never been something I had dwelled on, really. I mean, sure, I’d wanked out of curiosity, I guess. Who hadn’t by that age? Well, except for those girls at school who were terrified of their own vaginas and seemed to think that they had to wait for a man to engage in anything at all sexual. Bullshit, I say to that.
I probably remember the first time I wanked better than the first time I fucked. It was the year 2014. Back then, I didn’t have many friends, and the ones I did have spent their weekends playing various different netball and hockey matches. I wasn’t the sporty type though, so I spent my life reading various different crappy YA novels that I’d bought for about 99p on my Kindle. Ah, those were the days. In this instance, I was in the middle of reading the House Of Night series, which is a collection of truly riveting books about teenage vampires at high school. So, basically knock off Twilight.
I had reached the third in the series, Chosen, where there just so happened to be a raunchy sex scene between the main character and her teacher. As I read about them passionately sucking each other’s blood while they “made love”, I began to feel a little turned on. I’d never really experienced that before, and it made me a little curious. So, I put the book down and did what any sensible girl would do in that situation, which was google how to wank. Of course, there are various forums detailing different ways to go about it. That’s when I began experimenting. I read that one girl used a tampon holder to push back and forth up her vagina. I tried that. How completely clueless I was. I mean, it did nothing.
The next day, I went into school and a girl in my class told a story about another girl who apparently shoved a whole cucumber up there and her dad had found it. God, how embarrassing. He told her not to use something so big because it would stretch out her vagina. After hearing that, I was too worried about sticking anything else up there in case that happened to me, so I took a break from the whole wanking scene.
When I finally returned to it, I figured out that the clitoris was the ticket. I read that you could either grind against a pillow, or use an electric toothbrush, or even point a shower head at it. The pillow thing didn’t work for me and the idea of using something I put in my mouth every day wasn’t so appealing either, so I went for the final option. At first, it felt a bit weird to just be sitting at the bottom of my shower in a cm of water, pointing the head down towards my clit. But that feeling faded away as the entire bottom half of my body went completely numb and my muscles jerked uncontrollably as pleasure overtook my body. I’d done it.