Everyone remembers their first time. Whether it be for the right or wrong reasons.
Mine was below average (in fact, pretty shit) sex, but I remember every detail, for the simple fact I had wanted to have sex for as long as I could damn remember, and it was my first time.
I went to an all girls’ school, and when I hit puberty I was like a dog on heat. Any male celebrity I wanted to bone, and I’m not just talking your Justin Timberlakes, I mean your Billy from Eastenders (yes, he’s on my “list” from when I was 15, there is written proof). If they had a dick, I probably wanted to climb them. I don’t know if my frustration was beyond that of any normal hormonal teenage girl, or if it was exacerbated by the fact I was surrounded only by vaginas, and hadn’t in fact spoken to a boy, and when I did I had no idea how to behave.
I remember trying to shag the first male friend I made, who as it turned out was gay. I didn’t fancy him, I just wanted someone to lie on top of me and thrust.
When I finally started to have a circle of male “friends” (i.e. boys I would lust at in turn), I became a predator. I remember telling a friend of mine when I started college that I would lose my virginity within the first term, I stuck to my guns and did it.
I distinctly recall becoming aware of my breasts, and how impressed boys were by the size of them, so I used this to full advantage in an entirely horrifying anti-feminist way and had them out and shoved up under my chin as much as I could whenever around the pray, trying to use them as bait.
It clearly worked as I hooked my first boyfriend. Again, someone I don’t think looking back I was at all attracted to, I was merely fucking high that someone wanted to kiss me. He was a strange kisser, very closed mouth and jabby with his tongue. Assumed this was the norm at the time, having only kissed some girl friends prior to my first exchange of boy saliva.
We had sex after dating for a whole 2 weeks. Which at sixteen, I thought was very respectable. We’d been to pizza hut and the cinema, so I think it was third date time. Except, it wasn’t really a date. It was a house party, at his house. He didn’t know I was a virgin, neither did several of my extended friends, as to try and fit in with my best friend at the time I had lied about this in my teenage wisdom that you need to be something other than who you actually are (I wouldn’t recommend this).
So, party. I went from having had several snogs and never even so much as a boob graze, to all the sex in one evening. I distinctly recall panicking that someone would burst in for a laugh, as everyone knew what was going on, but thankfully that didn’t happen. He poked at my vagina a bit, not very erotic, and then went down on me with his jabby tongue, much like a lizard. At some point (during the extremely brief cunilingus) I managed to kick him in the head, Christ knows what I was doing. When taking my bra off I got my Baby-G (check it!) caught on my bra strap and had a fumble to detach myself, it was as though I had lost all sense of how to function.
I was instructed to suck him off, having never seen a real life penis; I probably just bobbed up a down on it for a few seconds. Then he fiddled with a condom and climbed on top and fucked me for a few minutes. It was a massive anti-climax. He seemed to get bored as we were sliding around on his single bed and hitting the posters on his wall. He decided he wanted head again, though after the johnnie his dick tasted rank, of which I told him. He wasn’t impressed, but ran to the bathroom (to cheers) and washed it.
The whole thing seemed to be a race to make him come and probably lasted ten to twenty minutes’ tops.
Afterwards, the sheer joy from a teenage boy just having had sex was palpable. He went and asked my friend to “smell his fingers”, wafted his willy in someone’s face, and then shouted “did you get your period, there’s blood on my tee-shirt”. Fucks sake. It’ll only be me that remembers all of this, but I remember it not being quite what I wanted to go down. I also got dumped a few days later.
I didn’t let it put me off and continued on my quest for sex, but better sex, and ended up going out with his best friend (to much dissatisfaction amongst the pack) a couple of weeks later. We had significantly better sex…
I don’t regret my first time. I know many people say you should wait for it to be with someone special, but I don’t have that approach to sex now, and clearly I didn’t then. I was super sad when I was dumped, I think for the fact of feeling used, but when I look back, I didn’t like him, we had nothing in common and I didn’t even find him attractive, so I was using him as much as he was probably me.