Part Eight: Let’s Back Up a Bit

When asked, my usual response is that I lost my virginity at the tender age of 15…this is not an entirely accurate statement, but the truth is a bit more complicated and would require more of a convoluted answer than is typically being requested with that inquiry.
What is the truth, you ask? Well, you’re probably going to be disappointed that you asked by the time I’m through…but I can oblige, though I remind you that you have been warned.
My first sexual experience was when I was around eight years old, maybe a little younger, prior to the divorce. Next door to our house in Piedmont there was a girl, a few years older than me, who I ended up spending a lot of time with…it could be said with some accuracy that she was my only friend at the time.
I don’t know anymore how it could have began, but at some point while we were playing together she decided that she wanted to see my penis. I didn’t know what I was doing, this was a different time, when children weren’t exposed to semi-pornographic material during prime time television and I hadn’t yet seen my first pornographic magazine…so you would be safe in assuming that I was entirely out of my depths.
Over the next couple of months she would regularly lead me into a shed that was essentially an expansion on a chicken coop, if I recall correctly. She would touch me and ask me to touch her in different places. One of my clearest memories of those experiences was of her having me kiss her vagina, though that word wasn’t in my vocabulary at the time. I remember her telling me to keep licking it and holding my head down there, I also remember that I wasn’t enjoying it because it smelled and tasted like pee…which was the word in my mind at the time.
These experiences were brought to an end when her grandmother walked in on me standing there with my pants around my ankles after the girl had left briefly. I told the woman that I was taking a pee, because I knew, even at that age, that the truth would get me in trouble. I was told to leave and that I was not welcome over there anymore. I remember the way the family next door would look at me after that and knowing that it wasn’t fair that I had gotten in trouble the way that I had while I was keeping my mouth shut to keep the neighbor girl from being dragged into it. To this day I don’t know if anyone ever told my parents or grandparents about me being caught over there like that, literally with my pants down.
There was no penetration, though probably only because I wasn’t physically capable of it, so I don’t know if this would have counted as me losing my virginity…but it certainly stands out as my first sexual experience with a girl, or anyone at all.
Even after becoming sexually active by my own volition, it took me some time before I was comfortable performing oral sex on a woman…those first experiences had kind of soured the whole idea for me. I feel almost silly about that now, because I have come to enjoy that particular intimate act a great deal.
This is where things are going to get a bit more interesting. During the remaining years of my childhood I really only had a couple of friends. I wasn’t well equipped for making friends and influencing people, as my mother would occasionally describe things. One of these few friends factors heavily into the story I am sharing with you now…it would be safe to say, I think, that he was my best friend during the following years.
A homophobe reading this might do themselves a service and skip forward a little ways, since I wouldn’t want to upset those tender sensibilities…or maybe they should just stick it out and discover some previously unknown fuel to burn in contempt for me. If you’re still here I can assume it is safe to go on…but that is sometimes an erroneous assumption to make. I have shared the following information with some people over the years, close friends and some family members…and it has been those I most expected to display open mindedness that were the ones who typically expressed disgust. People can be funny like that.
From around third grade through eighth I had one friend with whom I probably spent substantially more time than any other. I don’t know if our shared experiences were common, or if he and I were just in a unique place where we were comfortable experimenting and exploring with one another. I don’t rightly know why or how it happened, but he and I developed what is, to date, the longest sexual relationship of my life. Of course, it could be argued that it doesn’t really count…but you can decide that for yourself.
We spent the night with one another quite a bit and wandered around by ourselves through the mountains which were practically in our back yards…and during these times we spent together we occasionally began to explore our sexuality and one another’s bodies. It began innocently enough with touching one another, watching each other touch ourselves, and learning what felt good to us. Over time our exploration became more intimate, performing oral sex on one another…sometimes even making a sort of game of it, waking each other up by performing oral sex on each other in turns. I recall one occasion where I pretended to remain asleep just to be selfish and not reciprocate. Yes, I admit I can be a bit of a prick…seriously though, I was a kid, fuck off.
I will avoid sharing the sordid details with you here, at least most of them. We only took things beyond oral sex once, while wandering through the hills together…neither of us seemed to particularly enjoy anal sex too terribly much, and our mutual exploration was pretty well at an end by that time.
I’m one of those people who has trouble saying that I don’t like something unless I have experienced it for myself, something that has gotten me into trouble a few times. It was from experience that I determined not only that I wasn’t exactly inclined towards homosexuality but that I also wasn’t a big fan of anal sex. Aren’t you happy to know that detail about me?
So, there you go…that’s the long-form answer to the question of when I lost my virginity. Don’t you feel special now?
Honestly, either of those stories is probably better than the story of the girl I slept with at 15, the one I say that I lost my virginity to. That night itself was fantastic, seven times we had sex in that one night…and that wasn’t just my interpretation of it, she ended up promoting me sexually to another girl only about six months later. It was the events that followed shortly thereafter where my perception of things become a bit jaded.
A month or two later a couple of my friends felt that they had to tell me about her going down on a mutual friend of ours while they were all driving through the hills together. I stewed for a while, waiting for one of those friends to get off work, at which point we drove to the apartment my girlfriend shared with her older sister.
This is where shit gets well and truly fucked up, and I hope you enjoy it, because I did not. When we arrived at the apartment it was to discover my girlfriend drunk, in the bathtub with our mutual friend she was blowing a week or so before as well as another of our mutual friends…this one being the person I considered to be my closest friend at that time in my life.
I was livid, if that word even approaches describing what I felt at the time. They all slipped out of the back door after I had been briefly distracted and a chase did indeed ensue.
There was no violence though. I had spent my whole life, up to that point, learning to reign in my violent impulses to avoid becoming my father (something I will discuss at another time)…progress that, sadly, ended up hitting a major setback less than a year later when I became little more than an animated vessel for anger and self-destructive impulses. You know how that came about already though, so I thankfully don’t need to address it again.
Needless to say, that spelled the end of my relationship with the girl who took my virginity.

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