The next day, my weiner was a little bit sore – not terribly bad, but a little red and tender. It certainly was not an injury worth canceling that evening’s festivities for! So, that afternoon I headed off to the convenience store for a pack of condoms. No more sneaking them from my father’s sock drawer. I was no longer an embarassed young boy – I had my 15 (literal) minutes of sexual experience! I strolled proudly into the convenience store, selected a pack of Trojans, and confidently plopped it on the counter. The clerk rang up my purchase, then caught me off guard when, at 2:30 in the afternoon, she said, “Have a good night.” Night? It’s the middle of the afternoon! Is that comment because I’m buying condoms? Is she messing with me? I left the store blushing like a schoolgirl.
Just to be on the safe side, when I got back to my dorm I locked the door and tried out one of the condoms. It’s amazing how easy these things work when they’re not ages old and cursed by gypsies! As an added bonus, I double checked on Captain Happy, and he wasn’t feeling too sore. All systems go!
D got out of class, and we headed out for dinner. After dinner we headed for her dorm room, popped in a rented movie, and sat on the couch. Movie watching turned to cuddling, cuddling turned to kissing, kissing turned to intense caressing, and intense caressing turned to clothes strewn about the room, and D and I ascending the ladder into her bed, mounted on a loft above the couch.
As pathetic as my first sexual experience was, my first time with D was absolutely amazing. We were two people truly in love, taking our time, exploring a fascinating new experience together. Don’t get me wrong this wasn’t like in the movies – she certainly experienced some first time pain and our inexperience led to some awkwardness, but all together it was a terrific experience, and at the end we found ourselves breathless and sweaty, wrapped speechless in each others’ arms.
I reached down to hold the condom in place while I withdrew, then scooted from on top of her to lay next to her. I brought my hand up to caress her cheek, but stopped short – there was blood on it.
I sat bolt upright in bed, smacking my head against the ceiling. I looked down and there was blood on her thighs, and on the sheets.
And there was blood on Captain Happy! :eek:
Now, I’m sure everyone here, being all calm and rational, knows exactly what’s up. D was a virgin, and “deflowering her” naturally resulted in a bit of bleeding. However, rational thought is a luxury you do not have when you suddenly and unexpectedly discover blood on your willy!
HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO STUPID?!?!?!? HOW COULD I HAVE SENT MY SOLDIER TO BATTLE, KNOWING THAT HE WAS WOUNDED!?!?!?!? WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
One thing was for sure – I needed first-aid, STAT! Obviously, that meant I needed the roll of paper towels sitting on top of her mini-fridge down below. D was frightened by my sudden strange behavior. “Where are you going?”
“Blood!” I responded. Hey, no time for chit-chat – this was a crisis! Before she could ask any more questions, I was at the top of the ladder, which I intended to descend normally. However, the combination of my light-headedness brought about by sexual exertion, plus the head-crack on the ceiling, plus the sight of blood on my penis, turned out to be too much. Perched at the top of the ladder to D’s loft, I passed out.
D described the fall as very graceful, as if I had just decided to lay back and dive gracefully backwards into a swimming pool. This was no swimming pool, however. My head managed to barely miss the dresser, but instead thwacked hard on the floor tiles of D’s dorm room. I was out cold.
It was D’s turn to panic. She threw on pajamas as quickly as possible, then whipped open the door and tore down the hall to fetch her RA. I was still on the floor, unconscious, and bare naked. My soldier was covered in blood, but still standing bravely, dutifully indicating north to anyone who was confused. In her haste, D had left her door wide open. In an all-female freshman dorm, word travels fast.
When I woke up, I don’t recall feeling any pain. My head felt kind of fuzzy, and the whole world was out of focus and dreamlike. I was looking up at a ring of about 12 girls. Half of them were exclaiming “Oh my god, he’s dead!” and the other half were just giggling. At least someone had been kind enough to place a blanket over me, but otherwise I was still naked. I don’t think D was one of the faces I saw, but I don’t think I would have known who she was anyway. Her RA, who by the way was VERY attractive, was holding my head in case I had broken my neck. At this point I wasn’t feeling any pain and wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t know who I was, let alone who my girlfriend was. I just knew that I was naked, Captain Happy was still awake, and a beautiful girl was on the floor with me, her hands around my neck. Later D told me I had done some unintelligible mumbling, but hadn’t succeeded in forming actual speech. Thank god for that – If I’d have said what I thought I was saying, my head might have taken another blow!
My mind started becoming slightly more lucid, and I remembered where I was, and started looking for D. I remember hearing her voice, but not being able to see her. I’m not sure how long this went on, but I remember everybody leaving at once, and finally being able to spot D. I think that’s when the paramedics arrived.
I remember them asking me some questions, like what was my name, and not being able to answer them all, even though I knew that I should know the answers. I even vaguely remember being briefly on my feet, trying to dress myself, and people yelling at me to lay back down.
The last thing I remember is being strapped to a stretcher, and being carried down the stairs. D lived on the third floor, and they carried me down head-first. I hadn’t felt any pain yet, just a thick fuzziness in my head, but when all that blood rushed to my head, the pain hit me hard. I remember screaming, and then I blacked out.
My memories in the hospital are pretty sketchy. I remember first waking up on a bed being wheeled down the hall, and asking “Where’s D?” over and over again. I remember lots and lots of vomiting. However, most of the rest of that night I was out of it.
The next day D’s parents showed up at the hospital. Since we wouldn’t be heading down to their place for Easter, they decided to head up and check on me (it would have been a much longer drive for my parents to come up). D was very insistent that her parents NOT know that we had had sex – not that I was eager to mention that.
I was released from the hospital early the next morning. D’s parents went with us to the cafeteria for breakfast, where we were mobbed by friends eager for the story. D was telling them what it was like when the paramedics were talking to me. “It was weird, 'cause he didn’t know what his name was, but when they asked his social security number, he said it right away. He couldn’t see how many fingers they were holding up, but he managed to stand up and put his own pants back on.” At that statement the whole table went silent, and everybody’s eyes fixed on D’s parents. The look on D’s face was utter embarassment, until her dad simply cleared his throat, and everybody went back to nervously eating.
I was quite the celebrity for a few weeks there, and there were many wild versions of the story floating around campus. It didn’t take long for my fame to fade, though, and soon I thankfully stopped getting reminded of it everywhere I went. In fact, it pretty much stayed dead, until after summer break when I ran into my old RA during the first week of classes. “You know every summer in RA training, they go through various scenarios and quiz the new RA’s on how they should react. Guess what the new scenario was this year.”
Great, glad I could help.
Thanks!