I wanted it to be with someone I was really in love with. So Frank was my man. He was tall, slim, exquisitely handsome to my teenage eyes, and well hung. (On skinny men, as I came to realize somewhere along the line, normal-sized penises do look large.) He was a couple of years older than me and we met in the environmentalist scene. I knew his voice before before I met him, from a telephone chain for protest activities (oh, the non-digital innocence of the early 90s!). I fell in love with it straight away. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I was smitten. Up until then, sex had been shy petting for me, with some oral stuff not worth mentioning. With Frank, I wanted to go further. The concept of “kinky” did not occur to me at the time, but looking back now: that’s what he was. I was drawn to it and it encouraged me to explore. I felt something opening up between us, something sensual and infinite. And I could very much relate to his penis, which was new to me as well.
It happened in my parents’ house, in my bed, one weekday morning. I think it was Friday. It was final exams time and I had the day off school. I was meant to meet a classmate for breakfast at our favourite café and Frank was scheduled to go on a workshop that day, so time was scarce. We had tried to fuck the night before but it never really got started. I was too dry, too tense. So we attempted again the next morning.
When I first felt him inside of me, partly inside of me, parts of parts of him inside of me, it was a slight disappointment. There was a burning sensation. I wouldn’t say it hurt, but it was unpleasant. I wasn’t aroused, but very anxious and ambitious to get it all over with. We struggled along. He moved literally by the inch while I kept encouraging him, so that, finally, we sort of plugged. I was electrified.
I do remember that sentence floating in my head at the time: for heaven’s sake, he is now officially fully inside of me, we are interconnected. The sensual feeling was banal, the emotional turmoil was immense. Orgasm was nowhere near, but there I was, with this gorgeous creature sticking inside of me. I was so overwhelmed by the sheer fact that I silently promised myself to remember this, always. If Frank came, I do not know. He probably did. How long it lasted, no idea. Not that long I guess. I was completely busy with the big picture: rites of passage, here I am, the next gate may open up now.
Then, a knock on the door and my breakfast date entered the room to pick me up (that meant my parents were oblivious). Back to life, back to reality. She grasped the situation at once, of course, and candidly announced she would wait for me in the café. She smiled a slow, huge, silent smile and left. With all sorts of feelings running wild in my head and heart, Frank and I got dressed and parted. I remember the walk to the café vividly. I was practically floating above ground. I wanted to scream out loud: “Hello world, I have just fucked!”
We’re looking for stories about the first time you had sex. Email with 500-1000 words. (Don’t worry, we won’t print your name — but please do make sure to include your gender, where you were, and how old you were.) Submissions may be edited.
