Where it happened: My Apartment
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 5
Category: Straight
“My First Time” is rather indeterminate.
My early sexual education was non-existent, so when a boy I was dating in college went a little too far during a “petting session” on the living room floor of my apartment, I yelled from the surprise hurt. He immediately left and I had to figure out how to stop the mysterious bleeding! Technically, this was my first time, but hardly something to commemorate.
My next few sexual encounters, including a year-long relationship with a fellow who repeatedly asked me to marry him, still left me at a loss as to what might be called a real sexual experience. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, these guys were just ill equipped for action. . .
The notion of looking for Mr. Right was also non-existent for me. My focus was on education and travel. Eventually, I met and dated a man with whom I experienced what was another “first”–the term “G-spot” had yet to be invented, so I had never heard of it, let alone understood that mine was located in the most remote of regions. But this guy found it, again. . .and again. Our relationship ended after about a year, as our lives moved in different directions, but I’ll never forget that “first time”!
As my life moved on, I had two long-term relationships, four to five years each. I had many happy experiences, sexual and otherwise, with each of these men who were both intelligent and well-endowed! However, try as I might, I cannot remember the initial sexual experience with either of them.
It is quite a different story with a man whom I met when I was 32 and would marry when I was 37. There was an immediate mutual attraction when we met at a union organizing party where we talked non-stop for two hours. Due to a variety of circumstances it would be over a year before our first date.
We taught at the same college where we came to respect one another professionally; we shared similar social, political, and intellectual views; had many interests in common. So by our first date, while we might not have fully realized it, we were well on our way to being in love. And, yes, we “did it” on our first date and discovered we were as well matched in that area as others we already knew about. As our relationship grew, so did our sexual routines and varieties, of course. But nothing stands out in my memory more than the connection, intensity, and surrender of that first evening. I remember it in great detail.
Were it not for this play and inquiry, I might never have thought again about what technically was “my first time.” However, hardly a day has gone by since my dear husband’s death that I don’t recall and seek comfort and joy in the memory of “Our First Time.”
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