I was 19, she was 18. We worked together at a large water park, but met at a party. Went back to her house and made out a bit after the party, and I couldn’t get her out of my head. Managed to “acquire” her phone number a year later and called and asked if she wouldn’t like to come for a visit.
Did it like bunnies all weekend and managed to break my parent’s fold-away couch. Hooked up a few more times over the years. The last time we were together, she stole my pants.
I was 18 and in the Army, in AIT in Ft. Gordon. Dana and I “dated” briefly but soon drifted apart. I think about her occasionally, but no way was she or would she have been the love of my life.
I was 16, he was 17, and we were each other’s first. My first time was not pleasant (hurt like hell and I bled a lot). The next handfull of times were meh, partially because he didn’t know what he was doing, partially because I didn’t know what I liked. Gradually, though, we figured it out and had a lot of great sex for about 3 years before we went our seperate ways.
Not at all. I was nearly 17, he was 25 and we were in a play together and hardly knew each other. What we did have, however, was the most incredible sexual chemistry I ever experienced, before or since. First time we met we couldn’t take our eyes off each other. The first time he touched me, all he did was stroke the back of my neck and I nearly exploded. The sex, when it happened, was fantastic, and we spent the two weeks just Doing It whenever we could.
But we had nothing in common besides the chemistry, and I didn’t actually think he was a very nice person, so I ended it with no regrets.
My first was a girl I went to high school and church with. I’d known her for years, but only peripherally, we didn’t socialize. We started seeing each other around Christmas 1983 and broke up around March 1984. I was 15, she was 16. There was never any notion of marriage.
The summer between 7th and 8th grade, so what did that make me, 13? Anyway, Eileen (she was one year older than me) was the school punch board, and she did me the favor in the back of an old '47 Plymouth up on blocks in the back of a gas station.
Funny thing…Eileen wasn’t what you might picture as a school slut. She was very, very attractive, very sweet, great body (early bloomer), and just overall nice. She was also as horny as a sack of rabbits.
I know of several guys that she initiated. As far as I know, there were no regrets–only pride.
I haven’t seen her in 40+ years. She’ll always have a sweet spot in my heart, though.
Not especially. I thought he was cool but he used crack openly and pitched a tantrum because i wouldn’t call off work to see him. I have no idea where he is now, and am probably better off with out him.
I used to go to a grocery store near my house when I lived in New Jersey. This checkout girl would always check me out, looking me up and down and practically licking her lips. She was super hot, and she would flirt with me whenever I got to her line. After about a month of this I needed a job so I applied there. I got the job and as luck would have it they put me on her register bagging for her. About a week later she took my virginity on an elementary school playground under the Hale Bopp comet. Then a little while after that she started some crazy drama with some other dude and it led to some nastiness in the parking lot and everything. Basically she was a crazy bitch.
A while later after I’d moved to Brooklyn, she came to visit me in the city and wanted to get back together and everything. I was dating another chick and was kind of brusque to her. I left her at Penn Station and went to get laid by my new girlfriend who was much older than I was and a fantastic lay.
I think my experience with her colored my view of women because I really liked her and she was nasty out of nowhere when I was generally pretty nice to her, she even said so when she came to visit me wanting to get back together. But anyway, no, I wasn’t that close to her. We had sex twice hung out for a few weeks and that was about it.
I considered my virginities (I count myself as having had two) as burdens needing to be disposed of so that I could get on with not being a virgin anymore.
The boy (one of only two ever) - We’d met online, had a bit of a distance thing going for a few months, and then we decided he should fly in from Minnesota to California for a weekend. I was 21, he was 19. I was taller than him, and he was a very nice guy. It was not really memorable aside from the whole being the first time and he was quite endowed. When he flew back home, things pretty much immediately fizzled, and I think he met a nice girl closer to home shortly thereafter. I was quite relieved when he told me about her.
The girl (one of…no comment) - She picked me up at the first lesbian bar I’d ever set foot in, on the first night I walked in the door. I gave her my number. She called me at 4am that night, which sent up a big red flag but didn’t stop me from unburdening myself of my ledbianhead a few nights later in the twin bed she was sleeping in at her friend’s (rather awful) house because she’d recently been kicked out by her Mom for being gay. I was beyond thrilled to find the experience of sex with a woman that I was only kinda attracted to, in an environment that was less than ideal (I remember that there were roaches in the bathroom, and the whole house was a complete mess) was great. More than I was hoping for. We went out for breakfast and that was the last time I saw her. She called me again and tried to get me to go out with her on her birthday later that week, but thankfully I had to work. I felt sorry for her that she didn’t seem to have any other plans, but really didn’t want to encourage any unrequited feelings.
I was then free of my self-perceived burden(s) and stepped confidently into my authentic sexual self, being (usually) much more selective about the women I would sleep with going forward.
We weren’t close at all. We were only in each other’s company for, maybe, 90 minutes. Never learned her name. My friends and I were driving around one night in the summer at the beach, and she hopped out of a cab in front of my car. My friend called her over to talk at the window and chatted her up, offered her some weed if she’d get in and drive around with us. Fifteen minutes later she was blowing him.
We smoked and drove, and pretty soon I ended up in the backseat with her, whereupon she enthusiastically fucked me as my friend drove. I was pretty amazed because I didn’t even have to put any effort into trying to get into her pants; she just sort of went after it.
When we finished, she asked us to drive her back to her house, gave us each a peck on the cheek and with a “Thanks!” and a wave, she was gone.
I was 25, in grad school and we’d been dating for a year and a half. I needed surgery before I could do it, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Though he was the first guy I’d tried it with.
Denial (about being gay) can be a powerful force. I dressed it up in all sorts of different outfits between puberty and my coming out at the age of 22. Like “I don’t need/want any distractions, I’m concentrating on school.” I had had what I thought were crushes on a couple of boys in high school and into college, but they were nothing like the emotions and attractions that involved other girls in my life that I rarely even allowed myself to think about.
I was 15. He was 15. We met as freshman and had been going together for several months, through the summer and into our sophomore year of school. He was my first boyfriend. He was all kinds of awesome. We talked about “doing it” for a few weeks, I guess, before we actually did it. In his bedroom while skipping school, IIRC. I believe it was his first time as well. It was awkward, of course, since neither of us knew what we were doing, but it was not regretful. I have fond memories of it and him still. At some point, we broke up and I took it pretty hard. Learned a lot about relationships that stayed with me for years.
Thanks to the wonders of technology, I have learned several things about him. He is still hot and never married, although I can’t imagine why not. Alas, I am happily married. But, man, if you don’t ever wonder what it would have been like if it had worked out between us, you’re dead from the waist down.
Since you asked (and I’m neither proud nor ashamed of this, it was what it was):
I was deeply closeted and terrified young man of 21 in 1970. At that age I was able to go places where I knew it would be safe to make myself available (“safe” meaning I probably wouldn’t get beaten up or outed as queer).
I count two virginities, giving and receiving. I don’t even remember the first time I gave, but I’m sure it was anonymous and I never saw him again. I do remember the first time I received, also anonymous and someone I never saw again. It didn’t go particularly well (it was very spontaneous and we were not well equipped with the necessaries) but I knew as I was going home that I wanted to do THAT again, and soon.
Looking back, I wish I had not been so closeted and terrified, because all that anonymous sex had a negative effect on my psyche. But I am living openly in a loving relationship now, so I count my blessings.
Roddy
