Believe it or not, I was the biggest prude in high school. I did not believe in sex before marriage. (No, really, I didn't.) And I always made that perfectly clear to any guy who was wanting to be my boyfriend. It seemed that everyone was coupling off and having sex, but I wanted my first time to be with someone I loved. I wanted it to be special and memorable.
The first guy I ever got physical with (I'll call him K) was a guy I had told a friend I had a major crush on. It seemed almost like out of a fairy tale that a few days later he had started paying attention to me in class and next thing I knew he was "asking me out". Granted, I was too young to date, but "going out" just meant hanging around each other and stuff like that.
The day he asked me out, he invited me to his house after school. I walked over with K to his house (which was 2 blocks from the school) and when we got there, the house was empty. Both of his parents worked late, so we would have the house to ourselves for the next several hours. I may not have been the sharpest crayon in the box, but I certainly knew what that twinkle in his eye meant.
He pulled me close to him, pressed his lips against mine hard and forced his tongue in my mouth. (My very first French kiss...) It was awful! I thought it was the grossest thing that had ever entered my mouth. His tongue was really slimey and he kept licking my teeth. Ew.
Not a great start.
But then he started exploring my body with his hands. He had very nice hands and his touching me felt really good and my body was tingling everywhere. I think the little angel that was supposed to be telling me that what I was doing was wrong had fallen asleep or something because I had no intention of asking him to stop. At the tender age of 15, I had quite the voluptuous shape and K was wanting to touch every inch of it. I was wearing my favorite flowered Chic jeans coupled with a tank top...both articles of clothing showing off my well proportioned shape. Just to be clear, I told him that my clothes would be staying on. He seemed to be okay with that.
I didn't know why at the time, but K told me that I should call my best friend and tell her where I was and who I was with so that I could show off. So I called her and while I was talking to her, K was right behind me feeling up my breasts, pinching my nipples, running his hands down my sides and over my hips and then (after seeing that I hadn't pushed his hands away yet) he put his hands between my legs and started rubbing my pussy thru my jeans. I was heavy breathing in no time and it made it difficult to talk to my friend, but K insisted that I keep talking to her while he was nuzzling my neck and continuing to rub my pussy. Well, obviously, I couldn't tell her what specifically he was doing to me, but I was wanting to give him my full attention, so I told her I needed to let her go and I would see her tomorrow at school. As soon as I hung up the phone, he stopped. Everything. No more nuzzling my neck, no more touching me anywhere, and no more trying to stick his icky tongue in my mouth.
I thought this was a bit weird (the angel must have woken up) but who was I to complain? The problem now was that I had missed the bus and hadn't really given it much thought as to how I would get home. Sure, I could walk home, but it was 3 mile trek and I had a heavy bag of school books with me. Plus, I hadn't checked in with my parents yet and they would both be home from work soon, wondering where the hell I was. (We didn't have cell phones back then.)
I called and left a message for my mom to come pick me up and then happily announced that K and I were "going out". She didn't need to know the details. And at the time, I didn't know that what I was doing was later going to label me a slut.
Anyway, my mom told me that later in the week I could invite K over and we could watch tv together. I was so excited because I wanted him to touch me that way again. I wanted to feel my body completely relax against his to the point of forgetting everyone else around us. So I wanted to make sure I was dressed appropriately for the easiest access possible.
I decided on a long, flowy white skirt with a matching cropped top and after making pleasantries with my parents, we went into the computer room so that I could show him the latest games that I had. (I kicked ass in both Space Taxi and Impossible Mission.) The chair in the computer room was a leftover kitchen chair and it was plenty roomy for two people to sit in it at the same time. So he sat on the edge of the chair and after hiking up my skirt a bit, I sat directly behind him. I referred to it as our motorcycle position.
This time, it was my turn to do the touching. He was wearing black pants and a crisp white, long sleeved shirt (he was looking VERY good!) and I started rubbing right above his knees and slowly worked my way up his thighs and then back down. And then rubbing the insides of his legs, I wasn't sure how far he would let me go. He stopped my hand right as I was getting to the creases between each leg. I guess he didn't want me touching him, afterall.
By this point, he was ready to go "talk" so we left the computer room and went into my bedroom and the rule was "no boys on the bed", so my thinking was it would be okay if we were on the floor. :] We were both sitting on the floor, a few feet apart when he leaned in to kiss me. It wasn't as bad of a kiss this time. I guess that meant this whole French kissing thing was starting to get fun. He started nuzzling my neck and was whispering how we could go to go to the same college and even stay in the same room. This weirded me out because 1. I had no clue where I was even going to go for college and 2. I wasn't sure this was the guy I wanted to be my first. There was just ... something ... about him that didn't feel right, but I couldn't explain it.
Now would probably be a good time to describe K. He was a few inches taller than I was. He had dark, curly hair, big brown eyes and the most mischevious smile I had ever seen before. I think he reminded me a lot of Gopher from The Love Boat, but the closest he resembled was Lee Curreri (of Fame and Crystal Heart). The thing about him that grabbed my attention was this outfit he would wear about once every two weeks....white pants and a white shirt....kinda Miami Vice style...he looked SO good in that outfit! Can't really explain it any further, but you'll just have to take my word for it that the outfit worked for him. And the funny thing is that once we started going out (and I told him that outfit drove me crazy) he never again wore that outfit.
Okay, so now that he has mentioned our going to the same college, I brought him back out of fantasy land and told him that I wasn't going to have sex with him because I wanted my first time to be with my husband. This shouldn't have been news to him because I had mentioned it a couple of times before, but I guess maybe he didn't think I was serious about it. I was dead serious. This was not a religion thing or a parents thing. It was MY wanting to wait until I was married.
After reminding him again of my beliefs and telling him that this was NOT my parents talking as he had insisted it was, he all of a sudden "remembered" that he needed to be home taking care of his younger brother. (Yeah, THAT was subtle.)
My dad offered to drive K home and I rode along and K and I both sat in the back seat. I tried to hold his hand but he pulled away and then didn't even look at me. The two mile drive to K's house was over in what seemed mere seconds and once we got there, K muttered a quick "see you at school tomorrow" and then he was out of the car in a flash.
The next day at school, he completely ignored me when he passed my locker and it was like I didn't even exist anymore.
Come to find out, he heard I had a crush on him and he made a bet with some of his friends that I would sleep with him. I guess once he realized I really wasn't going to have sex with him, he figured what was the point of going out with me anymore.
I figured I would just write him off as an experience. Remember the definition of experience....experience is what you get when you didn't get what you wanted. How true with K. I was looking for someone to want to be with me and desire me and have fun with and he was just looking to win a bet.
It gets worse.
Same school. Same people. A few years later. His name comes up in conversation and I mention that I went out with him for a short while and that he was my very first REAL kiss. Apparently by this point, K is quite the popular fellow. Next day in class, I am curtly told that K not only was NOT my first kiss, but that he doesn't even know who I am.
So. Bottom line? Since K completely wrote me off, he doesn't get credit anymore for being my first boyfriend. That title proudly goes to my ex-husband who WAS my first and I DID wait until I was in love before we did the deed.
But that is a story for another time.
Vixy :]
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