First of five and a quarter

ashayla webster (56)

Writing Prompt: First!

My first time was not long after my eighteenth birthday. It was not what I was expecting, but then, is anyone’s first time really? In fact, I’m not even certain that what I consider the first time to be, actually counts. As Lily and Marshall concluded in an episode of “How I Met Your Mother”, if you’ve only been to the lobby of the Empire State Building, you haven’t really been there; you’ve only been in the shallow end. So if he only splashed around in the entrance, does it really count? For the sake of argument, let’s say it does.


There I was, a wide eyed innocent virgin tempted into sin and debauchery by an exotic foreigner. Ah who am I kidding, I was raring to go! I do not regret my first time, or the time after that, which is probably a more technically correct version of ‘losing one’s virginity’. I’m one of those people that believe that sex can be free, wild and fun. Sleep with whoever you like! It’s funny though, the first person I slept with is the only person I’ve slept with. Over five years and I’ve only had one penis. He likes to think he has some sort of magical appendage, perhaps a narcotic laced shaft that keeps me around, but the truth is, I fell in love and haven’t fallen out of.


Hmm…perhaps it is magic.


My partner was very considerate the night of my first time. He spent a great deal of time stroking me, touching me, cuddling and kissing me. He was determined to take it slow and I was wound so tight I’m pretty sure I dry humped his leg at some point. He wanted me to be sure I was ready. How he didn’t laugh every time I made it perfectly clear how unexperienced I was is a testament to him.


The first time I saw his penis my eyes grew wide with horror, “will that fit?!” The first time I took him in my mouth it was with an orange flavoured condom, “Ooh! It tastes like Tic Tacs!” The first time he penetrated me, I cried. Some say that the first time hurts, most assure me that it’s not nearly as bad as people say. I can only akin the pain to slamming my thumb in a car door, which I have done. It was sharp, throbbing, strained and my nether region hurt for days. Despite my highly excited state, it hurt a lot.


You know you’ve picked a great guy when he cuddles you close, kisses you gently and doesn’t say a word.


The next night we tried again. He was cautious, asking me again if I was sure. I was. I was more than sure. I wanted to do it. I wanted to finish it. As much as it had hurt, I’d never felt anything akin to having another person inside of me. I had never felt closer to another human being as I did cradled in his arm.


He was gentle, very gentle. I felt the pressure again, the pain rising and then a gasp from him. “I’m all the way in,” he said, to which I replied, “Thank god!!!” Five and a quarter years later, my first is still my first. Here’s hoping he’s also my last.


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