My First, First TimePreviously, I've written about another first time. That was my first time of another sort. This, however, is my first, first time.
In high school I had a very good friend, a couple of grade levels ahead of me. He and I did all sorts of things together, and pretty well made the HS years a lot of fun, as long as we weren't actually in school at the time.
Being a couple of years ahead of me, he graduated before I did, naturally, and went on to a local community college. I'm not sure where and how he met the woman who would later become his wife, but he did, and he was dating her at the time of this story.
For many reasons, as friends do, I owed him big in return for some good turns he'd done me. It was only a matter of time before I'd have to "pay up".
One Saturday I got a call.
Him: "You need to help me out here"
Me: "Ok, what's up?"
Him: "I want to go out with my girlfriend today, but she has an obligation to her cousin, and says if I can't find her cousin a date, we're not getting together today. And I'm horny and I'd like to get laid."
That sinking feeling set in. I was gonna have to blind double-date with some girl I'd never met, and who, apparently, couldn't get a date on her own. Every guy's worst nightmare.
Me: "Awwww, really? You're gonna make me pay up by blind-dating some relative?"
Him: "Her name is N_____, and H_____ (his girlfirend) says you'll like her."
Me: "Yeah, right."
Him: "H_____ says N_____ has a wonderful personality."
Arrrrggghhh! The nightmare became something absolutely horrific. "...A wonderful personality?" To be totally blunt, I suddenly had visions of a multi-hundred-pound attempt at a spherical human being, with the face of a harpy. The sinking feeling rapidly became something akin to the scene in which the Titanic foundered. Really. I could hear the screams of the drowning passengers.
Me: "OK... I can't BELIEVE you're asking me to do this. After this we're even, right?"
Him: "I knew you'd come through for me!"
As the Spongebob narrator says, "Three hours later..."
We're in my buddy's VW microbus on the way to pick up N____. (Yeah, a microbus. It was the 60s. What's it to ya?)
We pull up in front of a fairly typical home in a fairly typical neighborhood in the fairly typical city of the fairly typical northeastern state in which I lived at the time.
Him: "This is it."
H___: "Go to the door and get her. She knows we're coming."
I drag my worried, but gentlemanly, *** to the door to pick up my "date". Words cannot describe the feelings I had as I approached the dread portal. I rang the bell. The door opened. Frankly, I was amazed it didn't creak, forebodingly.
A cute, slender, curvy, five-foot six-inch brunette young lady says, "Are you, S___?"
Something around seven billion brain cells are suddenly, instantly, stupefied. It's a wonder there were enough left to keep me breathing and upright. There certainly weren't any left capable of providing me with the ability to speak coherently.
Thus, it was Patrick Star who answered with, "Duh....yeah..."
"I'm N___," she says, "Nice to meet you."
And thus commenced what was a great evening. N____ was vivacious, pretty, sexy even, and we had a nice time. Some hours later, my buddy has pulled down a very secluded, dark road that rapidly became a track. (Those microbuses could, amazingly, get places you wouldn't think possible.) We pull off the road into an even more secluded, darker spot.
My friend says, "Would you two mind moving to the rear seat, so we can get out of the front seats?"
If you're too young to know the layout of a VW bus, then Google it. I'm not gonna bother detailing things for you at this point.
30 seconds later, major heavy breathing is coming from the middle seat. 30 seconds after that, articles of clothing are airborne, landing in various areas of the bus.
Remember that part at the beginning of the story, where I said this was my first, first time?
At this point I am mostly clueless.
Moist noises are coming from the forward section of the bus. I know, in the sense of having read about it, what is probably going on.
I have not, at this point done more than kiss my date. And it was a pretty chaste kiss.
I'm gentlemanly, remember that?
This is not to say I am totally inexperienced. I have more than once, kissed a girl. Necked even. And petted. And at least a couple of times, had my hand under a blouse, even under a bra, and felt gen-u-wine naked boobage.
But that, dear readers, is the extent of it.
N_____ says, "You know, if we moved up onto the cover of the engine compartment, we'd have a little more room to stretch out and get to know each other better."
Patrick Star says, "Duhhh.... yeah..."
So we do.
And we do. Get to know one another better.
And to my complete and utter amazement, shortly after we're there, she kisses me.
And not long later, she's lying atop me, kissing me with More Than Intent.
And removing her top, and her bra. And my shirt.
And, not so long afterward, her pants, and panties.
I spend some glorious time in feeling, caressing and otherwise doing my best to stimulate what's been uncovered for me. Having read something about it, I do my best to eat her *****. It must have been good enough, because soon, after lots of moaning, and after she's rolled us back over, and some grinding against my ever-so-hard ****, she's removing my pants and underwear in one (rather awkward and cramped because we are, after all, in a low, although relatively broad and just-long-enough space) move.
And I can feel wetness, and pubic hair and **** and warm, soft skin against me.
My **** is rock hard and sticking up between warm, soft thighs, wedged between her lips. Whereupon she reaches back and positions me, then slides down, engulfing me.
"I don't have a condom," says I. (The Pill has barely been invented. Condoms were all there was.)
"I don't give a ****," says she, beginning to move her hips, pumping me in and out. "Shut up and **** me."
And so, to the music of ******* from further forward in the bus, I lose my virginity.
And, sometime later, she comes, which makes me come. And my virginity is well and truly gone.