My First Sexual Experience

I’ve decided it might be therapeutic to write about my first sexual encounter. It is not intended to be erotic; it is what it is. This is an exact account. The only thing I’ve changed is the name of my girlfriend (I’ll call her Jennifer).

John was one of my brother’s friends. Actually, I can’t call him a friend; sometimes he would turn up, hang around for a few days, and then disappear for a while. He was an older black guy, maybe twenty or so, and rather ugly. When I was fifteen—I had known John for several years—he showed up in my neighborhood driving a badass Mustang Cobra. The group of friends I was with all flocked around, talking to him and asking for a ride. He drove me and a couple of friends around for a while and even let me drive in a parking lot. I’d never driving any car, much less a stick, so it kept stalling out, and I thought I’d screwed something up. Before he dropped me off at home he asked if I wanted a ride in the morning. It seemed a little odd, he wasn’t in school and we didn’t really know each other that well. But the thought of pulling up in front of school in that car was irresistible. So I said “sure.” The fact that he wanted me sexually never even occurred to me.

The next morning John picked me up for school. We didn’t talk much on the way and he said he needed to stop by his house first. We pulled up in the driveway of a somewhat large house. I had no idea where John lived and I thought maybe it was his parents’ house. When I asked him he said,

“It’s whoever’s house you want it to be.”

This was a jerky thing to say but I went inside with him anyway. Another guy that I kind of knew, was sleeping on the couch. He woke up and gave John a look that made me uneasy. John said he needed to talk to me about some things, but I told him I was already late and needed to get to school. He said, “okay,” as long as I came back after school.

That afternoon we went back to his house and two more people I had never seen before were inside. He gave one of them the keys to his car and told them something that was obviously intended to get them out of the house. When we were alone I could tell something was not right. He asked me to come upstairs because he had something to show me. In his room (I don’t know who’s room it was) I looked around at a few things he had lying around and made an excuse to go back downstairs. I could tell something was wrong, and I had a strong instinct to get the hell out of the house. John came back downstairs and said in a rather irritated tone,

“Come up here for a minute.”

I went back upstairs and into the room. When he closed the bedroom door I knew I was in trouble.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I was talking to Jennifer the other day,” he said, “you remember her house was broken into a while back?”

“Yes.”

“She’s pissed off at me. She says you told her that I was the one that broke in.”

“What? Why would she say that? I swear I never told her that.” (And I hadn’t)

“I know you told her I broke in, and a bunch of other shit too.”

“I swear, call her up, please, I never told her that.”

He looked at me with an anger I had never seen in his face; he looked like a different person.

“Take your clothes off.”

“What?! No I can’t.”

“Take your clothes off.”

“Please don’t, please I swear I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t want me to jump you do you? Take ‘em off.”

I tried to make my way toward the door but he came toward me and I thought he would hit me. I took my shirt off, and then my shoes and pants.

“All of ‘em.”

I took my bra and panties off and stood shaking and trying to cover myself with my hands. Although I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the face, I could tell he was staring holes through me. I began breathing and shaking very hard. I don’t know if I was really having a panic attack or if I was trying to make him think something was wrong with me, so that maybe he would leave me alone.”

“What’s wrong with you?” He said.

“I don’t know. I’m scared. Please don’t do this to me.”

“Me and Jennifer already had this talk. I can’t have you bitches telling people shit about me that aint true.”

“Jennifer?” I started getting really scared.

I started crying. I was still a virgin and the thought of my first time being like this…I felt like I was about to pass out.

“Are you going to fuck me?” I asked.

“Naw, I aint gonna fuck you...you’re gonna suck my dick.”

“What do you mean?” (I know this sounds like a stupid thing to ask).

“You’re gonna pay me back for the shit you’ve done to me.”

He looked around the room,

“How we gonna do this, you’re taller than I am.” Which was true; John was a short guy and I’ve always been a tall girl, though looking back now, I have no idea why it mattered.

“Here we go. Get down on your knees,” he said, and laid back on a beanbag.

I got down on my hands and knees. John unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick. He looked at me like he wanted to kill me.

“Please don’t make me do this,” I pleaded.

“You either suck my dick or I’m gonna kick your ass.” (How I wish I’d let him beat me).

“How long do I have to do it?” I asked.

He looked at me like I’d just asked the stupidest question he’d ever heard.

“Until I’m satisfied.”

I have no idea how long I sucked him. It may have been five minutes; it may have been an hour. I honestly don’t know.

“Close your mouth,” he said, “your mouth is wide open.”

I looked up at him and saw pure hatred in his eyes.

I started sucking him harder and he sounded like he approved.

I really don’t remember what it was about him ejaculating in my mouth that I found so horrifying, but as soon as I felt it I began spitting and cussing and ran to the bathroom to wash out my mouth.

John got up and looked at me with a smirk.

“It’s not that bad. There’s some Kool-Aid downstairs.”

“Everything at this point felt surreal, like I was dreaming.”

“I promise I won’t tell anybody.” I said. (I don’t know why I said that).

“Yep,” he said, “did the same thing Jennifer had to do.”

Afterward he drove me home to pick up my Taco Bell uniform and dropped me off at work. I didn’t tell anyone why I couldn’t stop crying. I never mentioned the incident to Jennifer or anyone else.