Posts Tagged first time


Obviously I’m posting this after it was drafted but I decided not to edit it other than to put links in, because seeing how my mind works while very sleep deprived is quite interesting. 

I’m having the bizarre experience of writing this post while drinking a (terrible) latte on a ferry between two time zones, at either ten to one or ten to two in the morning depending on whose time zone I choose to believe I’m in. There’s no internet in the middle of the ocean, as it turns out, so when I’ll actually get to post this is anyone’s guess but I wanted to write it while it was still fairly fresh in my memory.

Because I was going away (hence being on the ferry), the Boyfriend came over for a couple of nights starting on Thursday, since both of us were off university on Friday. He got to mine quite late on Thursday night due to public transport issues/his own disorganisation (if you’re reading this, no offence but you know it as well as I do) and so we went to bed not long after he got in, had a cuddle and a chat and some oral before going to sleep.

We spent the day in each other’s company on Friday and went to the cinema in the evening to see Cloud Atlas (I highly recommend it, by the way), came home where I made him dinner and then went to bed for some fun.

I wrote before about how the Boyfriend is a switch in terms of Dominance/submission, and also that I’d never really explored that before now but had had a go at dominating him a little. This time it was his turn and being more experienced than me, he really went for it. All I can say is wow. I’m not even sure how it happened, we were in bed being silly and the next thing I knew I was on my back in my underwear with a collar round my neck and his cock in my mouth, but I got really into the role. He tied my hands behind my back, hit me with a belt, I wasn’t even “allowed” to talk and the idea of this sort of stuff has always freaked me out but it was amazing. It was mostly oral – me on him, be it on my knees on front of him or on my back with him essentially facefucking me, before he made me wank myself off/him taking over when he felt like it, slapping me every 30 seconds until I came on my stomach – one of the top five orgasms of my life, easily, not that I’m in the habit of ranking these things – followed quickly by him on my face and in my mouth. Eye contact the whole time right until the end and some very intense kissing.

Like I said, I’m not even sure how it really happened, there was something almost hypnotic about being in that submissive role. I found there was something quite satisfying and, ironically, freeing about having my focus 100% on someone else’s pleasure rather than my own, on being there for someone other than myself. Of course the idea scared me beforehand, but I think one reason I’ve never explored this sort of stuff before has been a lack of trust. Most of my sexual encounters so far in life, as you’re all very aware, have been one-offs with people I don’t really know and so it’s hard to (sanely and safely) allow yourself to be vulnerable around them, but with the Boyfriend, it’s different because I do trust him, completely.

After we both came and I was coming back to my senses he held me and cuddled me and spoke to me about it, asked what I’d liked and if there was anything I would have wanted him to do differently, additionally, or not at all, and then he got me some water and fed me chocolate. Apparently the cuddle and chat is fairly common practice in Dom/sub relationships to avoid something called “sub drop”, which is a new concept to me but it makes sense. It’s apparently a sort of post-coital depression experienced by submissives, I’m not sure the exact reasoning behind it happening (and no internet to find out though when I do get access to it I plan to do an awful lot of reading on this because it’s quite interesting, I think) but I think it might have to do with the rational mind after sex having a feeling of being used by a top, which I suppose happens and it makes sense that that would be a bit of a downer. It’s probably like the comedown you get the morning after drugs except without the shakes and altered perception of reality.

But so far, no sub drop. I felt great afterwards, I was really enthusiastic and I really can’t wait to do it again. Our pre-emptive cuddle and chat also involved the exchange of a certain four-letter word we’re all familiar with, which probably also helped to alleviate any potential “drop” in my mood. The only drop I’m experiencing now is the sadness at being halfway to a different country and consequently being further away than usual from him and not being able to phone him without bankrupting myself. However, the upside of this is that I get to see a friend I haven’t seen for over three years, and this trip will also potentially get my foot in the door to working where I’ve wanted to work since I was 14. (I’m turning 23 in a couple of months).

Expect more writing about Dom/sub experiences from me over the next few weeks though, I’m very excited about getting to have more experience with this sort of thing and learn more about this topic which I’m shockingly ignorant about as a sex-positivist. Can’t wait!

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Flashback Friday: Cake and Sex

I realise I’m no longer writing Flashback Fridays very regularly, nor am I doing them in chronological order. For the OCD among you I apologise, I’m basically just writing about whatever I feel like that day. This week I booked a flight to go back to this place in January for a week, so I’ve been reminiscing about this time.

Because I did a degree in two foreign languages and my university was really good about these things, we got to go abroad twice; a year in one country and half a semester in another in our penultimate year (and the degree therefore takes an eternity to do). In my fourth year, then, I was sent to a popular European capital to do a language course there.

Before I went I did some extensive google work, which took me to the page of a chef called B, whose food looked good and who was also pretty easy on the eyes, so I put myself on his mailing list. As luck would have it, three or four days after I arrived he had a dinner event planned, so I signed myself up and off I went.

At the dinner I met and befriended an American girl who it turned out was actually a very good friend of B’s and even lived in the flat next door. We got talking and she invited me out with her later that week to go to a huge flea market (better than it sounds, I promise), and in the event, B turned up as well. That was also the day I met Magenta. The four of us had dinner together and decided to watch a movie, and did so all spread out on B’s huge bed to watch it projected onto the wall. Magenta and B’s neighbour, about five minutes into the film, decided that they needed to go and get something from the flat next door – whether they actually needed something or it was just a ruse to get us alone together I’m not sure – and off they went leaving B and I alone on the bed. This was shortly before I became the much more outgoing and confident person that I am today, so while there was some intense eye contact going on it was down to B to make the first move. “You have really beautiful eyes. May I kiss you?” (Yep, literally “May I”).

Of course I nodded and so it started, and a few minutes later we were interrupted by the others coming back. I later discovered they’d come back slightly earlier but heard something going on so hid in the bathroom and then decided to come out loudly to let us know they were back and then leave again quickly; this worked and B and I spent the night together. The next day he invited me to another event he was having that weekend, and again, I stayed the night. Before I knew it we were sleeping together more nights than not and we were definitely becoming a couple despite his being a far from good kisser.

Things lasted a surprisingly long time between us, about five months or so, including a romantic weekend away at a castle hotel, trips to the beach, and copious amounts of cake. He was the first guy I bottomed for – he wouldn’t let anthing near his ass – and the first same-sex romantic interest I’ve never had that actually amounted . We eventually split up when I moved away to yet another country for a while (we did attempt to do the long distance thing briefly but it was never going to work, largely because I was having sex with other people and lying to him about it). That’s a story for next week, though.


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Flashback Friday

I arrived at University in the September, and moved into student dorms/halls of residence (depending on where you live) which were at the edge of the city. The halls I was in were quite small, there were only maybe 250 students there, spread out into blocks. I got there on the Friday, and on the Saturday my best friend from school came to spend the night at mine for some fun. We were hanging out before we had dinner at the reception area where some people were still arriving and getting their keys, and a girl I later learned was called M arrived with her suitcase and parents in toe. It turned out (I learned by eavesdropping on her conversation with the receptionist) that she was from central Europe, sparking off what I’ve called my central European fetish and lending itself well to my friends’ calling her The Slov, which somehow sounds insulting even though it’s not really a word.

A few weeks later – it must only have been the beginning of November, if that, that by some string of events I’d found myself in her room one Friday night with a bottle of Bacardi (it was a present from my grandmother, of all people. She gave me it before I left, along with a hardback black notebook, “for your special addresses”. She clearly saw the writing on the wall). I knew she had a boyfriend, back in her home country, and I’d even seen him once when he’d come over to visit her, but clearly my 17-year-old brain didn’t care. We talked ourselves in circles for hours culminating in me eventually asking outright whether I could kiss her. “You can try,” she said. I did.

We ended up on her bed, not naked but topless at first, and I was confronted with boobs for the first time in a sexual context which baffled me. What the fuck do I do with these? I thought. It turns out they’re actually quite good fun when you get the hang of them though. That night we only had oral (which I was later told on no uncertain terms that I was abysmal at, it being the first time I’d gone down on a girl), but we were up for hours having fun in just about every other way we could think of too. I think in the end I was awake for a day and a half and then had to go and sleep until Monday.

That lead into what can only reasonably be described as a tempestuous relationship for the rest of that academic year, the following summer, and a full semester-and-a-half of the academic year which followed it. For most of that time we were actually a couple, which looking back on it is weird because she was insufferable a lot of the time as was I, and we weren’t very compatible personalities either. Still, it was what it was; she was the first person I ever said “I love you” to in a romantic way, and at the time I meant it. The first time we had sex in the traditional understanding of the word must have been in either the January or February following that first encounter, after she’d definitively split up with her ex and we’d become a couple. I think the only thing that was normal and healthy about our relationship long-term might actually have been the sex, come to think of it.

Three years after the first night we spent together I was at a party not far from where I live now, and who should turn out to be there by sheer coincidence but a girl that M went to school with in her home country and her boyfriend, who was – you’ve guessed it – M’s ex from that same time. After we worked that out we had quite a good laugh for the first while until either he worked out which of M’s exes I was or got drunk enough to do what he’d wanted to do in the beginning, and he jumped me from behind and punched me in the face a few times. It was a bit scary at the time but looking back on it now just seems a bit ridiculous; firstly, that he was even there in the first place, and secondly, that three years on he still cared enough about it. Masculine pride, eh?

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Submissive Sunday: My First Sex Party, or Meeting Bondage Girl

Three guesses where this person lives!!

Last summer I was outside camping with some friends. We were almost in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by big trees right next to our tent and next to an open field. Somehow I ended up in my friend’s tent (which is a whole other story to write about) and we had barely fallen asleep when the wind started kicking in. Normally I’m not afraid of thunderstorms but this one was right over us. The lightning came right along with some earth shattering thunder.

It was like Noah’s perfect day to take his new ark out for a ride – Armageddon LIVE! – and I think for the first time in my life I was really aware that nature is so much more powerful than we humans and that if we don’t take good care of ourselves we could end up dead…

“But I don’t want to die!!”, I thought to myself followed by the first next thought that came to my mind….”I need to have more sex!!!”. I don’t know if you ever had the feeling that this might be IT. But I figured that the “I need to have more sex” thing was definitely something that needed to be realized ASAP!

So obviously we all didn’t die, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to write this story but I didn’t forget about my “God’s given ‘vision’ ”

Since I am so not into the whole “let’s go out dancing, get drunk and find someone to have sex with”-thing and I am also not really into having sex as a straight woman – I was hunting around for places where my queer self would be much appreciated AND I could have sex (also, there is a slightly higher chance of running into men in woman’s underwear at queer sex parties than in an ordinary club ;-))

Luckily I live in one the the world’s most artsy and colourful cities, so there are countless possibilities to find a good sex party: straight, lesbian, gay, queer, BDSM, trans*, role play, with and without playing dirty (maybe the term “golden shower” rings a bell) leather fetish….we even have several locations which offer special “playgrounds”, meaning you find cages, crosses, stretching banks as well as whips, riding crops and bondage gear. As I always say: we live in paradise. It’s right there in front of your eyes, you just have to look around and view it. (As Willy Wonka likes to sing….I have a chocolate fetish by the way, but then who doesn’t ;-))

Off I went to my first sex party which luckily somehow was almost right next to my place, so even as I wanted to chicken out there were no excuses like “but it’s too far, I’m too tired, it’s raining”. I decided to go for a “no underwear, nylons, mini-skirt and minor-see-through shirt along some with heels” – outfit.

It was a party for women, lesbians and trans* which also offered a short bondage workshop in the beginning – something that I  always have been curious about.

The place itself looked like a “playground for adults”. As I walked down the stairs I found myself in the arousing world of leather swings, cages and gynaecologist chairs – so hot! Very happy about this newly found universe in the city, I was literally gliding upstairs, flying by the bar straight into another room in the backside of the club.

Comfy, wide imitation leather couches were waiting for their horny guests.

The woman who was offering the bondage workshop gave the female crowd an overview about the basic rules for tying someone up nicely and even more important: safely! (Note: always have a pair of scissors handy.) I was so excited about learning about different ropes and knots to fiercely dominate and tie up the next person who would be remotely submissive, but after several demonstrations of different knots (and a very long working day) my brain was one big knot itself and couldn’t remember anything that it just had been taught. So there went my fantasy…

So I bravely volunteered to play the submissive part as we got to practise on each other. In walks – as I like to call her – Bondage Girl. Tall, athletic body, short blond hair (and a very stylish haircut! I am a sucker for stylish haircuts!), green eyes…”So…you want to be tied up?!”…rope in her hands…

I huddled up in my short skirt and nylons thinking: “I’m not wearing a thong…now everyone is gonna see my…ah…right! Sex Party…! Exhibtionist mode on…!” (not that it’s ever off)-

Bondage Girl straightens out the rope… it gently glides around my ankles winding its way up my each leg like a snail… smoothly moving the soft nylon on my skin…

“Shall I go on and tie you up even more? I am in the mood to experiment…” Experiment away!

The rope continues its journey around my hands which are now safely secured in a praying position in front of my chest. Each time she makes a knot she pulls the rope gently but firmly, leaving no doubt that she’s in control. She takes my shackled hands, puts them behind my head and starts sliding the rope around my chest…there is no way to move my hand from the back of my head. She loops the rope around each breast continuing making smaller knots on my sternum…then she pulls the whole art work on my sternum towards her…It’s like 10 pairs of hands touching you everywhere of your body, luring you with the sweet gentle touch of a lover and leaving you with the feeling of being someone’s prey…

I never thought I would enjoy receiving bondage, leaving me wanting more. In my personal life and in my life as woman who runs her own business I am quite the doer. So of course it first felt like the obvious and natural thing to be the one to “do” (give) bondage to a play partner. WRONG! It was somehow not only arousing but also very relaxing to for one moment NOT be the one to “pull the strings”.

Guess you never know until you try 😉

After this night I ran into the woman who was offering the bondage workshop during a female porn award party (GOD! I love my colourful artsy hometown!) and I kind of started seeing her. Since she obviously is into giving bondage it naturally led to being “tied up” during another sex party where I also had a fierce “foreplay” with a gorgeous trans* in woman’s underwear, suspenders, nylons and high heels…but that’s another story…

In case you are getting curious yourself about going to a sex party – here are some tips.

Things you want to check before going to a sex party and while you are there:

– Check with people who already have been there if it is a safe place for you to be there – what were their experiences like? (I did ask the owner and well known sex-positive activist in my favourite sex shop for women and trans* as well as  people from the queer community)

– Know what you like or would like to experience and were your borders are. Being tiet up might be a lot of pleasure for one person but sheer horror for another.

– ALWAYS PLAY SAFE!!!!! If you are going to a sex party there should be free access to condoms, dental dams and gloves as well as lubricant. If you have small hands like I do it might be a good idea to bring your own gloves in a smaller size since I mostly find gloves starting at a medium size at these parties. Of course this works, too, but if you are finger fucking someone – especially guys – the gloves tend to wrinkle up which can be a bit unpleasant for the other person. Also for fisting it’s important that the gloves fit perfectly well.

– For sanitary purposes there should be disinfection spray and wipes. All surfaces at the party should be able to be cleaned and disinfected. The playground should look and be left clean.

– The rules of the sex party should be printed out and visible to everyone. Read them! Normally the door men or woman or someone who has already been there will explain these rules to you and give you a tour through the location.

– Always check if it is ok to watch a sex scene. Of course you don’t just walk up to someone and ask during their play but normally people give hand signs or let you know if they don’t want you to watch. It’s always good to ask when you arrive at a party what the rules about watching a scene are.

–  If you are hearing the words “Help me, please help me!!!” it’s not necessarily a reason to rush over and “free” the other person. Especially at BDSM parties this can be part of the play. However each party has code words to ensure the safety. I mostly find the code words: green, yellow and red. Red usually is the term for “stop”. Make sure to know what the code words are BEFORE becoming intimate with someone. Talk to the other person about your code word for “stop” and know theirs.

– Get to know the person(s) you will have sex with BEFORE the actions starts. A good and healthy minded play partner will ask for your borders (“is there anything that you don’t want me to do?”) and might even check with you during the action when unsure. Since I am not of the quiet kind I had a very cute play partner ask “Is it ok what I am doing?” couple of times during our night of fun before s/he knew for sure I was (very!!!) fine 😉 For example: I like to be tied up and spanked but you don’t want the person to grab my feet – Might seem illogical, but it gives you an idea.

– If the person wants you to do something you haven’t tried before and you are curious but inexperienced: Let them know! They might be fine with it and teach you something new and exciting! However if you are not up for this particular new practise, just say “no”.

– The most important thing someone taught me at a sex party was: “You have to learn to say NO.” If someone wants to have sex with you but you don’t, it doesn’t mean that you have to say YES because you are at a sex party. NO it is! Also, if they are into something that crosses your healthy borders and you don’t feel comfortable with: NO!

Having sex is very intimate and you open yourself up to someone because you trust them. Always make sure you are and feel safe otherwise you will be left with some scars (not only physically but mentally) and you might end up paying a lot of money for a good therapist.

– Stay clean! Sex parties are definitely not the place to get drunk or take drugs of any kind. You want to be your sober self who is aware of what you are doing and what you are receiving. Though there are quite some drugs out there that can intensify the pleasures of sex I certainly would not take them with someone I don’t know.

– Be yourself! Be open about what you like. Dress like you feel like. One of the questions I get the most is: What to people wear during a sex party. Well, that depends on the party. If it’s a BDSM party I see a lot of leather gear. At a party for woman/lesbian I found a lot of tank tops and jeans, at a queer party I found people dressing from casual to half-naked-pink-butterfly-elf with glitter. Some are standing by the bar in their underwear, others have see-through tops, I like to go for short dresses and skirts without underwear and nylons…so it really depends on what you like! Don’t dress as someone you are not, try to find a way to express yourself through your outfit.

COME as you are 😉

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Your Stories

This is quite an easy blog post to write as I don’t have to actually do any of the writing!! Here are two submissions I’ve had to the Like a Virgin competition. Enjoy!

From KM
The tale of my virginity is one I am very lucky to have! As a “straight” girl of 15 almost 20 years ago I was pretty much a total idiot when it came to sex. My teenage years were spent living in the country where I spent most of my time working on farms with cows and horses, so sex wasn’t something I thought was on the cards for a long time. However one night, a friend from school we’ll call Stacey here, invited me out on a Friday night. It meant staying overnight at her mums house ’cause I lived in the middle of Buttfucknowhere so parents spoke and all was arranged. When I arrived there was blaring music coming from the house and the smell of whisky wafting from the living room. I will add that this story does not start out well and in fact you would be forgiven for thinking this ends in a bloody mess. It doesn’t. You’re good. Her mother was wasted drunk beyond belief and staggering around the house with her also wasted boyfriend. Stacey and i disappear upstairs and she starts on the booze. I didn’t drink. I was a good girl! I owned a pony for gods sake! Anyways, we leave the house at 9pm or something ridiculous to get in line for a local club. Once inside i realise that there there were a lot of people in their underwear. But I had never been in a club before so i just shut the hell up and drank my apple juice (no joke). Within about 10 minutes of that first night club apple juice an Adonis walked towards me clad in a banana hammock and a bow tie!Ii shit you not it was like a bad porno! He was called A and he was a barman there. The staff all had to work in their underwear believe it or not. He was a body builder and i fell in love right there. At the end of the night he asked to come back to Stacey’s and she said yes. She had actually pulled one of the other barmen (they had been eating each others faces off all night) so I felt fine about it. We talked in Stacey’s room for about 8 hours. We slept next to each other for a couple of them fully clothed. and then he spent 2 long hours just kissing and touching me because I’m fairly sure he knew i was a virgin. He talked to me, he seemed to know if he went a little too fast and would immediately slow down. it was awesome! I didn’t know it back then but he had a really big dick and he was a skilful man with it. He was 10 years older than me, I know creepy, but i did lie and say i was older and my ID said 18 so I can’t blame him and as it happens we stayed together for 4 years. Engaged and everything!
So, instead of the horror stories I’ve heard from other female friends, I get to remember my first time as a wonderful and entirely new whole experience for me with a caring and skilled older man. If it hadn’t been for him there would be a lot of sad little toyboys out there today! A, I salute you!

And from EP.

I was 17 and seriously confused about my sexuality. 3 years prior I had a kissed a boy and a girl at a party but I doubt they could even properly be counted as it was a spin the bottle game that brought them about. I think I had got to the point where not knowing if  I was attracted to guys or girls had stressed me out so much that i had kinda given up and decided it was something I could sort out later. I assumed like most of my girlfriends that i would get drunk at a party and some guy would hit on me and I’d just think “screw it” and do it!
So one Thursday night I was in my horrible student bedsit and there’s a knock at the door. The girl downstairs’ television had gone “bang” and she didn’t have credit in her phone so she asked if she could use mine. I remember looking at her at the door and not really having an opinion on her, she was just a slightly rattled girl who wanted to call her dad, presumably for a new TV. I took her to my room gave her my phone and sat down to watch telly. At the end of the call she realised I was watching a particular show and started chatting about it so I invited her to stay and offered her a cup of tea as is the ritual in these circumstances. The loss of a TV is something we all have to go though at some stage. She was wearing a long black towelling dressing gown and slippers but when she curled her legs up on the couch, the robe slipped and her legs were outstanding! I wanted to lean over right then and just lick them. And then of course I look up and she’s looking at me and smiling. Busted! We talked ’til the early hours and then as I was walking her to the door and hating myself for it, she stopped, put her hand on my cheek and kissed me. I don’t think I have ever felt that same kind of lust and pleasure since. We stayed in bed for 30 hours and it was the steepest learning curve I ever experienced but so, so worth it. Later that same year I had sex with  guy, at a party with a few drinks in me. First and last time.

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Like a Virgin

This is quite a long post, but it spans what would be several smaller posts had I been writing this blog at the time. Stories from the past are going to be a regular feature, starting at the end of this week with my first Flashback Friday. There’s a competition at the bottom too. Enjoy!

Since I couldn’t in all honesty call this blog a full account of my sex life – and also because I’ve not actually had sex in about a month, as some of you may have noticed – I’ve decided to go back to the top of my list (I’ve kept a list for years) and tell you some, actually almost all, the tales from my past, in chronological order. So where better to start than the very beginning?

I had just begun what would turn out to be my final year at high school, though I didn’t know that at the time, and although I ostensibly had a heavy academic workload with which to contend, that was also the year I began to really have a decent social life. One of my many cousins (Catholic family, lots of relatives) was playing in a band who had a “gig” one Sunday evening in the church hall of the town next to the village I’m from. Being the good and loyal relative I was before I realised that I have little in common with these people and don’t even like most of them, I went along to watch some of our local talent embarrass themselves on stage. While there I ran into some people from the year above me at school, who were there with friends from other towns and villages in the area.

One of these people, a pretty boy called KD, I recognised from MySpace (remember the days before facebook?) and I was utterly fascinated by him. For one thing, everyone knew him as Gay K – he was out to everyone, including his family, which to me at the time was unthinkable. Anyway, some of that group were sat outside on the church steps, drinking cider. At one point one of the girls from school, A, came over to where I was sitting and I could already tell from the look in her eye exactly what she was about to ask. “Dexxx,” she began, “would you ever pull a boy?” (I was barely out to anyone at that point), swiftly followed by “Would you pull K?”

Despite being fucking terrified as well as completely baffled (this was well before I ever had any sort of self-confidence) I agreed, and off the three off us fucked, around the back of the church. Here I would write “don’t judge me” but then if you’re the sort of person who is overly concerned with the sanctity of religious buildings you’re probably judging me anyway based on the rest of the blog, so whatever. K and I were sat on some other steps talking to A, and someone else who I have a feeling I knew at the time but now can’t remember. Anyway, my heart was beating so, so fast and I was so nervous, but A pushed on, kissing whoever the fourth person was before declaring, “Right, your turn!” So K and I turned towards each other and, well, it happened. I was still really nervous and I’m sure I was a terrible kisser because of that as well as a severe lack of experience.

I got really into it though, and A and whoever her mysterious fourth person was had long since vanished, so as hands began to wander K came up for air and grabbed my hand, leading me yet further round the back before pushing me up against a wall. Breathlessly he asked, “Can I give you head?” and I don’t think I could even answer verbally by that point, but my belt came off and he was on his knees going for it. I had no idea what to expect and don’t know how long he was down there for before I dragged him up and told him it was my turn. Once again I didn’t have a clue what I was doing but it seemed to be going alright until we heard footsteps on the gravel behind us and had to cover ourselves up pretty sharpish. I assume I got his number because we were texting later on, but at any rate I went back home.

At school the next morning everyone in A’s year, some of whom were in the same history class as me, already knew all about it (I have a feeling my teacher even knew) and by the end of second period the story had grown and changed in that way that rumours will, to the point where it was widely believed that rather than blowjobs in a church we’d fucked in a graveyard. I was the talk of the school, all of a sudden. It was like being in Easy A, except that wasn’t out yet and while Olive totally hadn’t, I kind of had.

The next weekend K and I met up and took a train from his town to the capital, which I suppose in retrospect was a date; on the way were talking mostly about our hopes and plans for the future, which when you’re 16 and from a mining village in northern Europe is probably all you really have to talk about. (He wanted to study either music or psychology (remember that, it’s important), I wanted to become an interpreter. I still do). Once in the city we found a quiet spot off the path on a hill and went to finish what we had started the weekend before – imagine waiting a week to cum – and I somehow managed to get cum, presumably his, all over my shirt and had to buy a new one to wear before I went home. He came buckets, come to think of it. Anyway.

After that I chickened out – I stopped replying to his texts and though I only saw him in public a couple of times after that, I ignored him both times. I’m not particularly proud of it but I don’t beat myself up over it any more either. Shortly before I moved to the city I now live in I sent him a message apologising for it (this was still MySpace), and were briefly in touch with each other for a while. I never really expected to see him again, but that was really naive of me given how small this country is.

Almost exactly five years later, last Autumn, Bruga and I had gone to the capital to take part in a psychology experiment not many people were qualified to do, so found ourselves then in the foyer of the University’s psychology department waiting for a researcher to show up when who should walk in and stop dead in front of us ut K. As he stood there I started gabbering away to Bruga in a language I knew K didn’t understand; “you remember that hill I showed you on the way here and the story about the guy I was with up there? That’s him! That’s the guy!!” I don’t know why I was so surprised; like I say it’s a small country and weird shit like this happens to me constantly. He was much shorter than I remembered but actually still cute, I still would. Or rather, I would again. After a few seconds he recognised me, looked baffled (what was I doing in his department, speaking a foreign language, when I don’t have anything to do with psychology and live at the other side of the country?), blanked me and walked off. I’m going to be in the capital again tomorrow afternoon, visiting schoolfriends. I wonder if I can manage to run into him again?

Anyway, now it’s competition time!! If you feel so inclined I’d love to get some of your feedback and your own stories; email me at telling me about your first time in 500 words or less, and I’ll post the top three stories next Thursday (12/04/2012), either anonymously or with a link to your blog, just let me know how you prefer it!

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