Is the first time the worst time?

Blurgh, it’s not good Lovers,

Last night, I watched Twilight. By Choice.

And it was awful as usual, but then I watched the second one, which was worse! But you know what Lovers? I’m just so in love with the idea of being in love with someone that much. Seriously, for me to sit through five hours of Kristen Stewart I’ve got to be pretty in love with the notion, right? Don’t worry, I followed it up with Shawshank Redemption to remind myself of what good movies look like.

It got me to thinking though, if Bella was so lucky with her first ‘love’, why can’t we all be? The first guy I ever said ‘I love you ‘ to was a complete fucktard. As I later found out he was a fucktard who couldn’t even fuck. So I guess he was just a tard. And that’s just pathetic. But I like to think, if I started with someone this bad, it can only get better right? I have to find my Edward eventually, yes? Or is it all just a really badly scripted movie where vampires sparkle and K.Stew is considered sexy? Well, you read on a decide…

So, it was the beginning of the year. The New Years parties had come and gone, and like all others out there I was making my resolutions for the year. Lose five kilo’s, learn how to cook, always stop at three pieces of cake, not five and most importantly, find a nice boyfriend. (Who is preferably a great cook, personal trainer and cake Nazi) Work was a total breeze. I liked everyone there except the bosses (Because really, who get’s along with wankers? It’s genetically impossible) Unfortunately there was a hard lesson to be learnt in that, even if you don’t like them, you should pretend to. I did not learn this lesson quickly and so after another tongue lashing, I was sitting morosely in the lunchroom, playing Domino’s with a block of Dairy Milk. All of us had different shifts; therefore I usually had lunch alone. But lately a certain gentleman had been going out of his way to eat with me. I just thought he had a thyroid problem and had to have two lunches everyday, but it turned out there was a method to his lunch madness. As another chocolate Domino tumbled over and had to be punished by being eaten, he slipped a note across the table.

I giggled, chocolate bubbles escaping out the corner of my mouth. After hastily sucking them back in I picked up the note and read it.
It simply said “I Like You.”      I didn’t know what to say. Nobody had ever been so upfront like this. Even when I had been asked out before it was done with hesitancy and a little “Lets see how it goes huh?” I knew my lunch break was almost up and I was out of chocolate to stuff in my mouth to try and stall with, so I said the first thing that came to mind.

“Thank you.”

And then I got up and walked out. Idiot, idiot, idiot. I was completely shaken. The truth was, I had never felt liked by anyone of the male persuasion before. I mean, apart from my two day debacle of a relationship in high school. Certainly nobody had ever looked me in the eye and said (or written) I like you. Three little words. The runner up to the big Love trophy. I ran to the sink and buried myself in dishes so deep I didn’t resurface for five hours. It was tempting to go up to him and wave my pruney fingers in his face and ask “ How do you like me now?” but no, it wasn’t the time for jokes. I spent the next two days avoiding him, trying to sort myself out. The question was, did I actually like him back? Or was I just flattered by his protestation of like? Looking back now, I know it was the flattered option, but these are the mistakes we have to make so that we can learn not to be such dumbasses in the future. Finally he cornered me in the cool room and asked if I was ever going to respond to his note. All reason left me then, and I jumped wildly into the unknown, with a burst of “I like you too!” And then he kissed me. Sweet, but disappointing. Absolutely no tongue, no open mouth at all. I suddenly began to think, oh dear, what have I gotten myself into here?

His name was Charlie and he was from the wonderfully exotic land of Cambodia. Yes, he struggled with the English language at times, but he was kind, sweet and clearly liked me quite a bit. Our first date was oh so romantic. We went clubbing, Boo yah! I found out then that he smoked, which was a big downer, but on the upside he helped me experience my first cigarette. I didn’t think there was much to smoking, but apparently I do it wrong. He was very disappointed, and I couldn’t get the taste of ass out of my mouth, (which is exactly the after taste cigarettes leave you with) so that put a slight dampener on things. But then like a true gentleman, he bought me some mints and promised I would never have to smoke again. Now that’s what I call like. Later on in the night I let him kiss me (with tongue, thank god!) and allowed him to get a feel of my eighteen-year-old bottom, which was thankfully still in fairly good condition. After refusing a lovely offer to come back to a hotel room with him, we hopped in a taxi and went home. Separately, of course. I had experience a very awkward taxi share experience a few months earlier and didn’t feel like repeating that particular moment ( I’ll fill you in on that story soon) I was very clear with Charlie straight up, plus of course my house was a total shambles.

Things really started to heat up at work. The cool room was our own private domain (as it was one of the only places without security camera’s) and we took full advantage of it. You’ll never know the feeling of kissing the person you like with the smell of mud cake and muffins lingering in the air. There is nothing like it. (Note: I have tried to recreate this feeling with a boy, some cakes and a fridge, but it just doesn’t work. Unless you have a really big fridge, both of your heads don’t fit, plus you have to stoop over the whole time. It’s just not worth it.)

Of course we only ever kissed in there. I was a lady, and a very innocent one at that. So when the opportunity came for me to housesit in a house all on my own, I was very reluctant to let Charlie come stay the night. Where would he sleep? Would he be a bed hog? Oh god, is he going to make me touch it? (Yes he tried, but I never got near it without squealing in embarrassment. I never even saw it. Could be for the best actually) I invited him over on a work night so we would have to go to bed early and there would be no time for…shenanigans, as my Mother would say. I cooked lasagne and to his credit he tried to eat it. I gave most of it to the dog, who ate it only under coercion. And then after doing the dishes, it was time for bed. I was super nervous. I put on my pyjamas while he got down to his underwear. I nodded in satisfaction as I saw not tighty whities but rather classy navy blue Y- fronts. I got into bed and gave him a quick kiss good night before turning off the light.

And that’s when I got the tongue in my ear.
This is just a note to the guys here, but trust me when I say, you will be hard pressed to find ANY girl who enjoys a slobbery tongue shoved into her ear. The worst part is we can hear you breathing all the way down into our brain. Imagine a friend of yours giving you a wet willy with double the saliva and a wind machine. It feels a little something like that. That said though, keep up the earlobe stuff, we go crazy for that.
Anyway, there I was, my eardrum slowly filling up with saliva, inch by inch.
I wasn’t exactly sure of a way to get him off me without hurting his feelings or ripping his tongue out with my bare hands, so in the end I just turned my head and gave him a kiss, praying he hadn’t picked up any wax while he was in there. We made out for a while and then I decided it was time for sleep. Apparently in Cambodia a woman’s decision making rights don’t really count for much. I had to make out with him for a good hour, and while he was a good kisser, it was difficult to keep my eyes open, not to mention the fact that he kept trying to tug my shorts down. Finally we came to an arrangement. I could either keep my bra on, or my top on. Of course being the prude I was at that time I kept my top firmly on and slid my bra out of my sleeve. I let him touch my boobs for an exact sixty seconds before I burst out laughing. I’m very ticklish in the nipular area, a fact I did not know until that moment. Eventually we both slipped into sleep, and I remained virginal for another night.
It was not to last long though.
After racing each other to work I told the girls of my raunchy sleep over. They were as usual full of the usual questions “How long did it last? Is it big? Is he a grower or a shower? Is it more wide or long? What’s his favourite position? Could you fit it all into your mouth?” Of course I had no idea how to answer any of these questions and had to fess up about the G rated nature of my night. After suffering through the judgmental looks and muffled sniggers, I asked them how long they had waited before they had slept with their boyfriends. The secretary answered with a no nonsense “First date.” While the apprentice waited a month. The other shop girl waited two weeks but she considered blowjobs a form of sex so I couldn’t really take her word for it. After the talk I began thinking. Charlie and I had been going out for about a month now, and while things were going well, he was getting rather impatient in the bedroom. I practically had to start duct-taping my shorts on whenever he stayed the night and he had the wiliest wandering hands I had ever seen. Maybe I was being too much of a nun. If the other girls jumped into bed so quickly then maybe it was just the done thing. Maybe it was more of a “let’s get it over with” more than a magical moment between two people in love. Perhaps “making love” was just a figment of my imagination and sex was all there was. Charlie was sweet and always went out of his way to bring me something back from the restaurant he also worked at, and though I had never met his family or been to his house, we still had something some people would call special. Besides, he said he liked me, and in my book that put him sky-high above all others.

With this in mind, the next time he came over I was as jittery as a schoolgirl. I didn’t want to ruin the moment by cooking and giving him a dose of food poisoning, so we bought the ultimate aphrodisiac for dinner.                            Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Nothing like a little grease and chicken salt to loosen you up. We watched T.V for a couple of hours but I couldn’t concentrate. I kept trying to imagine would it would be like, what it would feel like. Would there be lots of blood? What if I didn’t like it? What if it didn’t fit? Could I be as bad at sex as I was at smoking? Does sex smell? Eventually Charlie suggested we turn in. I nodded and forced my shaky legs towards the bedroom. This time when his hands wandered down to my shorts I let him take them off. I could practically hear the smile on his face. If I was as jittery as a schoolgirl, he was as horny as a teenager. The shorts came off, followed by the bra (under the shirt of course. We may be about to have sex but that didn’t mean he had to see everything) I gingerly asked if he had any…stuff. For some reason I couldn’t force the word condom out of my mouth. It felt like such a dirty word. He laughed at me and said he did, but what was I afraid of, that I would get pregnant? I may have yelled hell yes a little too loud, because he scuttled off to get that condom faster than I’d ever seen him move.

Unfortunately this gave me time alone to think. I started to freak out a little; maybe this was too fast, what if he wanted to get married? No, I told myself, get a grip; we’re just doing it, that’s it. He returned with a twelve pack in hand and graciously let me pick the colour. He also graciously offered to let me put it on. I declined the offer. I looked away while he did it; it was just too gross to think about. I could hear the snap of plastic on skin and all thoughts that I might secretly be into dominatrix ventures instantly left my head. The heady smell of strawberry latex filled the small room, and I tried to keep my breathing shallow so I wouldn’t inhale too much. I had heard stories of girls allergic to latex and I certainly didn’t want to be breathing it in if I was one of them. Then it was on for young and old. It all happened rather quickly actually (thank god) Charlie climbed on top of me and within a couple of seconds I felt a little something happening down there. I was shocked. I thought he would have at least asked for permission! Also, I was alarmed at how little I could feel. Wasn’t it supposed to hurt? Surely I should be feeling a little of that ecstasy written about so often in Mills and Boon novels? But my loins weren’t on fire with burning passion for my lover’s firm shaft of manhood, they were barely lukewarm. And that’s when I realised it was his hand down there. I shot up, asking if there was something wrong, had I not done it right? All I got back was a smile. I frowned in response and slumped back onto the pillows in annoyance. He must have known it was my first time. He was supposed to be teaching me things, so I could become all saucy and seductive like all the girls at work.

And then he was face to face with me, and I knew this was the moment. I was about to become a woman. I may still have the breasts of a teenager but I would come of age in all other ways.

When I say Charlie was small I am not saying it to be spiteful. In fact, I am grateful that he was, it would have hurt a hell of a lot more if he was huge. And when I say he was quick, well that was another small mercy. It was not a good first experience. We were two people who just happened to be joined at quite an intimate juncture and that was where the similarities ended. He flopped around on me like some fish out of water, while I tried to stay as still as possible so he could get the job done. He kept yelling “Yes Yes!” so I assumed he was enjoying it. I was so bored. Occasionally he would flick me a quick glance, I assume it was to check I was still alive, after all, nobody wants to be that guy who did the dead chick. Finally he did a series of acrobatic flops and let out a very definite YES! Before collapsing on top of me in a sweaty heap.
I felt awful. That was it? That was sex? All this time what I’d been waiting and saving myself was just that? If they wanted teenagers to not have sex they should have taped us and shown that to them, it’d be guaranteed to put them of for life. I was vaguely aware of Charlie pawing at my chest and I snapped out of my thoughts just in time for him to ask me how it was. How do you answer that question? The only thing you can say to boost a mans ego, that’s what. I looked him dead in the eye, crossed my fingers behind my back and said, “That was the best sex I have ever had.” Technically it wasn’t a lie. After all I had nothing to compare it to so maybe it would be the best ever. It was enough to satisfy him, and he rolled onto his back, a smug smile etched across his face. It was enough to send me into a tailspin.

I had to get out of there. I told him I had to pee and ran straight to the lounge room where I threw myself onto the couch and sobbed silently.
Where was the romance? Where was the lip biting excruciatingly wonderful bliss? As the Black Eyed Peas so often said, “where was the love?” I couldn’t understand it. Maybe I had built my expectations up too high but that meaningless, awkward and at times what felt like an attempt at the hokey pokey (pun intended) disaster was not what I was prepared for. Oh the unfairness of it all! I lay on the couch for around twenty minutes before Charlie realised I either had chronic diarrhoea or something was wrong. Eventually he found me, snuggled against a beautifully embroidered cushion, which was now beautifully smothered in my saliva, snot and tears. Then he did something great.

Without a word, he picked me up and carried me back to bed. I got to lie down next to him and rest my head on his chest. It was exactly what I needed.
So maybe the first time sucked, but who cared? There was always next time, although deep down a little part of me wanted next time to be sometime next year…

The following morning I of course relayed my sexploits to the ladies over morning tea. They were very impressed but also a little shocked. “ You say he just, flopped around?” they asked with puzzled faces. When I replied yes they then asked things like “Did you try spooning sex then? Or what about doggy? Guys love doggy! Maybe he was just nervous.” It was at this moment that I realised I might have left out one crucial detail to them. I gingerly placed my hot chocolate with seven marshmallows crammed into it on the table, and after taking a deep breath, explained to them that last night had been particularly important because I had lost my V plates.

Well the shit hit the fan then, I can tell you! They were amazed, awed even that I could last as long as eighteen before finally unlocking the old chastity belt.
None of them had known I was still a virgin. I could talk the talk, but the truth was, until that night I had never walked the lube smeared walk. It was then that I realised I may have just made a big mistake. I asked the girls how long they had been with the boyfriends they actually lost it to before they finally had ‘relations’ and oh how their answers upset me. They ranged from three months to a year.

My world started to spin a little and I had to lay my head on the table. I’d done it; I’d really done it. And not because I was in love with someone, but because I thought it was what everyone did. I couldn’t believe it. I had been peer pressured into sex. And horrible sex at that. The girls tried to console me, but how do you get that first experience back? The truth is, you can’t. From that moment on, Charlie would be my first. There was nothing I could do to change it and I just had to make the best of a bad situation.

Not bad eh? I suppose it could have been a lot worse. What about you lovers? What was your first time like? Were you the sickeningly sweet school sweethearts? Or were you the three thrusts on a pool table girl? Either way I can tell you from experience, that if you put your mind to it, you can have the most mind blowing sex ever. And if you’re not having it now, might be time to either change things up, or look for a new Edward.

Claire xx

Pick up line of the day: Are your parents retarded? Cause you sure are special!

(Wrong I know but very creative to say the least!)


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