She flashes
a nervous smile as she slides her lacy blue boy shorts down past her knees and
off her feet. She has olive skin, bright green eyes and dark brown hair. Her
tan little upturned nose has been kissed by the sun and is covered in tiny
brown polka dots. I lean in and give it a peck with my lips, she grins and
eases herself on to my bed trying to prevent the wretched squeak that the old
springs produce.
We are both
18 and spending our senior year working our way through the awkwardness of
sexual learning. See, up until last
week, we were both still virgins¹ with
the exception of her occasionally letting me fuck her in the butt. I am not
quite sure why that was acceptable but she always told me, “you can’t get my
butt pregnant!” For being such a lovely young lady I always wondered where she acquired
that very redneck quip. I’d shrug off the comment, lube up my main vein and go
diving in.
¹Read chapter: I “accidentally” missed her
b-hole and wedged my penis in to her vagina and then she cried for an hour
about no longer being a virgin.²
²It’s a working title.
Truth be
told, I am just happy she still let’s me stick it in her number two slot.
Considering the first time I did plow in to her asshole, we were unaware that
she should take a shit BEFORE we had sex. She screamed, I pulled out then
turned on the light. The poor girl had shit all over me and my bed. “This could
have gone better.” I thought as we sat naked in the excrement and I embraced
her with a shitty hug as she wept in to my pathetic boney chest.
My first
sexual experiences were obviously not romantic in any sense of the word and not
one of them lasted more than two minutes. This time of my life is actually when
I discover that girls grow hair around their buttholes too. “Gross!” I thought,
looking at her ass cheeks spread apart kneeling down in the doggy position as
she looked over her shoulder smiling at me, “It looks like a squashed spider.”
And it truly did! It was a dark circle with crooked spider-leg-looking pubes
straying in all different directions. I wince now just thinking about it, but
none the less she was beautiful, and most importantly, she was mine. A couple
of wiry butthole pubes weren’t going to stop this guy!
Too say this
girl is out of my league would be an understatement. She’s smart, attractive,
the captain of the volleyball team and the homecoming queen. Me on the other
hand, I stand all of 5’7” tall weighing 130 pounds soaking wet. Between my Chuck
Taylors that are a size too big, my wannabe grunge rocker flannel shirt, ripped
jeans and shaggy hair, I make for a terrible athlete. “Way to go boys!” I
squeal from the sidelines like a total homo. “My hands are looking exceptionally
tough today.” I note while looking at my newly formed calluses from the
excessive clapping. I think of myself as a good athlete that doesn’t get enough
playing time to show his true potential, but as I get older I will face
reality, I was fucking terrible.
I remember
back to my junior year when I was once forced to write a hand written apology
to our whole football team, followed by doing 100 burpees. All this for
screaming “Touchdown!” as a far better team scored its 50th point
against us in a single game. So not only did I suck, but apparently I was a
traitor too. “I said I’m sorry!” I gasped to my coach while vomiting through my
one hundredth burpee. “Not sorry enough.” He said like a prick, and then
instructed me to run laps until practice was over or I died. He was a true
inspiration. Fortunately for me I got the last laugh; he was fired after
getting caught watching porn on his laptop in the boy’s bathroom. “Hey coach!”
I yelled as I held the gymnasium door open watching him cross the parking lot with
all his belongings, “Suck a dick!” I slammed the door running inside the gym giggling
like a girl, so proud of my accomplishment.
But that’s
enough reminiscing of my pathetic sports career; let’s take our focus back to
the naked girl in my bed shall we?
So here she
is, my first love, sitting on my bed waiting to accept me. Her breasts are
extremely large and coursed with veins similar to that of my grandmother’s
legs. That reference grosses me out, but the tit’s themselves, to me they’re
perfect. She has a thin waist and her tight ass that looks great in a pair of
blue jeans. Her thin waist gives way to a large patch of razor burn where her
“I’m still a virgin” bush used to be. I snicker at the red bumps then glance
down to see that my razor burn is twice as bad where my “I’m still a virgin”
bush used to be. I turn my focus back to her, as she blushes and covers her
vagina with her hands. Her knobby knees are pushed together as she anxiously
plays footsie with herself.
I lay her
down on to her back as I crawl on top listening to my lousy day bed let out a
series of squeaks and yelps. “Shit” I mutter, “we have to be quiet!” See, my
bedroom is connected to the living room and my bed sits right in front of my
bedroom door. My mom and dad are currently in the living room staring at our
cordless phone, waiting for a ring. My cousin Bret was in a car wreck tonight
and his condition grows worse by the hour. I love my cousin Bret, but he’s
three hours away and there is nothing I can do for him now.
For a moment
I pause while sprawled out naked across my first love and think back to my cousin. See, Bret was always my idle growing up. He was
almost a decade older than me and grew up doing all the hillbilly things I
wanted to do, he was crazy. Motorcross was his favorite sport and he’d always
ride wheelies up and down the dirt road in front of his house. He was a four
year letter winner in football and won state in wrestling. His free time was
spent hunting, fishing and working on his 1969 Camaro he had purchased from an
old farmer after he spent a whole summer working in that same old man’s fields. Bret was everything I wanted to be, but as we
grew older, his coolness faded. He went from being the awesome cousin that
taught me everything, to another white-trash kid hooked on crank (which is like
meth’s redneck cousin according to Dave Attell.)
Bret and I
have since grown apart and years have passed without us talking. Plus, I never
learned to work on cars and my mom wouldn’t dare let me have a motorcycle. “You
got drunk and drove your car in to the neighbor’s house.” She scolded, “If you
had a motorcycle you’d be dead!” She’s probably right, but in my defense, Fast
and the Furious had a large impact on my teenage years. I still remember
pulling my e-brake and screaming “TOKYO DRIFT!” right before I slammed into our
neighbor’s chimney. But that’s a story for another day.
My alarm
clock shines a dim red light across her body. I take in the site with a long
gaze, then spread her legs apart and ease my way inside. At this point in my
life I am a one trick pony, and that trick is missionary position. My strokes
are short and slow, partially because I don’t want the bed to make a noise and
partially because, well, I wasn’t endowed with a penis big enough to produce a
long stroke. Luckily this girl likes me for my personality and not my frail
body and lackluster genitalia.
As I am
performing the lost art of missionary styled sloth fucking, I hear our house
phone ring and muffled sobs start coming from the living room. I don’t let this
deter me; I’m two minutes in to this deed and probably thirty seconds away from
finishing. I am already breaking my own personal record for consecutive minutes
spent inside a woman. “Come on Bret, hold on for another minute you fucking
cock block!” I think to myself.
I feel my
testicles start to recoil as I prepare to embrace a rewarding feeling that I
will later find out is termed “premature ejaculation.”
No sooner
than I start to release my little swimmers, a knock comes to my door. It’s a
knock I will never soon forget, it makes my butthole pucker and my hair stand
up on end. I try to control my orgasm that looks more like an epileptic seizure
as my mother opens my door. Turning my head, I try to shield my eyes from the
light now pouring into my dark bedroom. “Fuck fuck fuck!” I repeat in my head
reaching for my comforter that is wedged between the bed and the wall. I pull
at it desperately to cover my naked behind but it is stuck. I am too weak to even
make it budge.
“You have
some nerve young man!” My mother’s voice is shrill as it cuts through the air
like a knife. I don’t look up, I can’t make eye contact with her, I’m still
busy pathetically tugging at the comforter. “Here I am nervous to the core,
filled with sadness about my oldest nephew passing away³ and you’re in here having sex!” she scolds. I still won’t look at
her, I’m too embarrassed, my focus is on the comforter. “You know what, don’t
look at me. We are going to have a long talk later, mister!” she screams.
³When did ‘passing away’ become the polite
way to say somebody died? I feel it’s correctly used when your grandpa takes
his last breath of life while he sleeps peacefully in his bed. I don’t feel
like it is correctly used when a meth’d out 28 year old drives his car off an
embankment while screaming the lyrics to Motley Crues “Shout at the Devil” and
the fucking car explodes. Just my two cents!
No sooner
than the words leave her mouth, the comforter breaks free. With all my 130
pound might, I yank it away from the wall and it sails over our naked bodies
landing right on my mother’s feet. “I’m sorry!” I let out as I jump to my feet
without thinking, my dick and balls flopping around like they’re at a House of
Pain concert. Mom cocks her hand back. “Oh shit,” I utter, wincing my face and
preparing for impact as she slaps me twice. The lady has a hell of a left hand,
my eyes begin to water.
“I’m so
disappointed in you.” she says begrudgingly, the way only a mother can. She
turns around, slams my bedroom door and leaves me standing naked, holding my
left cheek in my hand and my manhood in the other.
I turn to
face my girlfriend in the darkness of my room, my alarm clock casts a reddish
glow on to my body, my voice perks up, “Did you notice I lasted longer than two
minutes this time??”