Tell me your first time story. I don't know why, but loss of virginity stories turn me on. It's my favorite part in all those silly Harlequin romance novels. The formula has changed a bit now, no doubt, to accommodate the modern woman, but once upon a time every romance novel heroine had to be a virgin until she was deflowered midway through the book by the manly hero. Always in these unrealistic scenes, he handles her gently in spite of his burning loins driving him to get busy and rock that ass. For her, it only hurts for a second before the pain is driven away by the rising tide of passion that washes over her and carries her to glory in a mind-blowing orgasm together with her man. Luv it.
Y'all, if my first time story was the least bit interesting or erotic, I'd tell you. It's not. So I'll tell you someone else's first time story.
This man's name was Julio. I dated him for about a month. He was mid-40's clean-cut, very conservative. He was a Catholic altar boy (not when I met him—I mean he had been an altar boy as a child). Although he claimed to be agnostic, he still attended mass every week. He talked a lot about guilt and sin. You get what I'm saying, he was very Catholic.
So this young man, Julio, at the age of 20 had not yet committed the sin of fornication. He was a virgin. As was bound to happen, he acquired a girlfriend who was free of the burden of guilt and shame associated with sex. She just wanted to shag him rotten. Every time they made out, she would push him to go a little farther and his defenses grew a little weaker.
One of the things I love about this story is the delightful gender role reversal. It was the chick pushing the guy to go all the way. What a hoot!
So one night they got well past third base but not yet a home run. She slithers down and starts giving him a blowjob. Reader, this just fascinates me—the power of guilt and shame was so strong that he was not able to enjoy his first hummer. He wanted it. He kept trying to push the disturbing thoughts out of his mind and concentrate on the pleasure of the gift she was giving him. But he began to go mad. Auditory hallucinations—he heard his mother's horrified voice crying out to him in shock, "Julio! What are you doing?" Then he saw the anguished face of Christ floating over him. He was filled with self-disgust and shame. So ashamed he thought he might throw up.
Needless to say, he lost his erection and put a stop to the night's activities.
Now Julio was more normal than you may be thinking. He did not dedicate himself to the priesthood, nor did he break up with his girlfriend and buy a subscription to Playboy so he could spend the rest of his college days jerking off. He wanted sex. So he thought a lot about it over the next week or so and brought himself to a comfortable compromise. As long as he didn't actually do the hibbedy-dibbedy then he needn't feel guilty. Oral sex was okay because he wouldn't actually do anything. Whatever sin she was committing by sucking on his sausage was between her and Jesus. But he himself would be sin- and guilt-free.
And eagerly he did set out for his next date with her. He wondered how to actually get her in the position he'd last had her without asking her or taking any action whatsoever.
Fortunately, her goals were in harmony with his own and it wasn't long before he was laid back with his eyes closed, pants around his knees, while his girlfriend gave kind attention to his manhood.
Suddenly something happened. She climbed up on top of him and put himself where he could do the most good. For her. Before he could freak out, she'd rolled them both over and he was on top of her, doing what comes naturally.
It didn't last long, but he was able to deliver the goods without collapsing into spasms. In fact, when it was over, he felt fantastic. He thought he could hear angels singing a hallelujah chorus. He couldn't stop smiling. He knew he'd grown at least six inches taller and if he stepped off a bridge he had no doubt that he could fly.
Wow. What had he been waiting for? He wanted to turn around and go back to his girlfriend's house, pick her up and do it again.
Unfortunately, after turning him into a sex maniac, the girl lost interest in him and it was a while before he had the opportunity to experience nirvana again.
What an interesting thing—to go from the extreme of paralyzing guilt and shame to the extreme of glorious acceptance of himself as a sexual being. I asked him, "What happened to the guilt and shame? It didn't just go away, did it?"
Well, what happened was he had an Epiphany with that first sexual experience. He had not hurt anyone, he had not lied, he had not committed a crime, he had not taken anything that was not given to him, he had not disrespected anyone, he had not betrayed anyone. He had not done a single thing that felt wrong. Why, exactly, was he supposed to feel guilty? Because someone had told him that God didn't want him to do that? Why would God have a problem with two people privately sharing something special and giving each other pleasure? With a world full of people killing, hurting, cheating and destroying each other, Julio figured God's least concern was the configuration of body parts between two people making each other feel good.
So began his crisis of faith. However, you can take the boy away from the altar but you can't take the altar out of the boy. Julio dumped me because I was "too sexual." He'd be ashamed to introduce me to his mother, he said. Seriously. Did he think that I don't know how to act around someone's mother? Did he think I might whip a dildo out of my purse and offer to let her borrow it?
So anyway, that's my favorite first time story so far. Tell me yours…
