I Remember Everything: My First Time

The first kiss

My first time lasted about a week. No, he wasn’t a stallion in the bedroom, and no, we weren’t so overrun by passion that we didn’t leave the bedroom for a week. I will save you the gory details, and simply say this; his key did not fit my lock.

After around three attempts over the span of a week, and the introduction of a lot of lube, I finally succeeded in my attempt to lose my virginity – to drop my v-card, if you may. And it wasn’t good. Although we’d been trying for what felt like forever, we didn’t really warm up properly. It was more a rush to the finish line than anything. To be quite honest, I don’t really remember if it was good or bad, I don’t actually remember the sex.

I remember what happened afterwards though, and thinking about it now, it seems rather surreal. Once the deed was done, I was feeling all weird and emotional – not something I was, or am, used to. I felt like I’d made a big step in my life, the first notch was on my bedpost, the first digit in my sex number. So there I was, avoiding physical contact. Whilst he lay there in a post-orgasmic bliss, I sat at the other end of the bed, staring out of the window.

And then we argued. I cannot remember what about, it was probably pathetic and irrelevant on my part. But we argued nonetheless. I said something to annoy him, it worked, and we fell out. So there we were, in a post-coital state, both in a huff at each other.

And then it started to rain, hard. And I continued to stare out of the window. Then I noticed that there on the street was a frog, a huge frog, just hopping about. We got dressed, and we went outside in the pouring rain and tried to catch the frog, and then we kissed, the argument forgotten.

And that was my first time.

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