First time.....

OK, so this past summer I promised myself to try some fiction writing. This is my first attempt. I wrote this months ago and of course, it's the only thing I've written so far. Damn you Ms. Procrastination, your effects still linger. So here it is, unedited. Some followers of this blog my have read this already, if you did, read it again. If you didn't, hope you enjoy. Either way, comments and feedback are always welcome. Rock out.

C

FIRST TIME


You never know what your first time is going to be like. You know what you “want” it to be like. What you want it to feel like, smell like, look like. You can plan out every detail about how you’re going to be a stud and leave this poor, unexpecting girl quivering in your newly de-virginized wake.
But when you’re 16 years old and you want to touch everything that wears perfume, you can plan all you want, the truth is you couldn’t care less how it happens. You just want it to happen.
I didn’t care. I wanted to pipe everything. Every girl that thought I was cute. But if I was honest with myself I was scared to death. There are so many what if’s. What if I finish in 13 seconds? What if I finish before we even start? What if I’m just bad or fumble with the condom for 3 minutes straight and end up firing it at this poor girl like a slingshot.
All my friends were older. They already did it. So did my brother, Eric, and he was only a year older than me. But he was sleeping with girls since he was 14. And I’m barreling down on an old-ass 17 and I don’t have any when-I-was-with-this-one-chick stories. But Eric and I were together all the time and that was cool with me because Eric was soaked in swagger. He had a quick mouth and didn’t really seem intimidated by anyone. He was tall and light-skinned, slim and muscular and had light brown eyes which in and of itself made him a pimp. Plus, he was on the track team and one of the best hurdlers in the state. He had his weird thing – well, it was weird to me – he always leaned to the right, looking over his shoulder like he was waiting for his shadow to catch up him walking.
Eric dated this petite, cute, Guyanese girl named Nicole. She was the first girl my brother was infatuated with. Nicole was the Indian-looking West Indian, with red-dyed hair and a pierced nose. But she always had a fresh outfit and crisp pair of Nike’s. Her best friend was Lisa. They were like a package deal. You don’t get Nicole without Lisa. So when Nicole told me that Lisa liked me, I should’ve known. Lisa was what I called sometime-ish. Some days she was a bad chick. Some days she looked like she got dressed with her eyes closed and left her face on the pillow in the morning. I didn’t understand it. Still don’t.
I had just grown into myself anyway. I was about four inches shorter than my brother. I was one of those kids that had all the girls in elementary school, when light-skinned kids when curly hair couldn’t lose. But by my freshman year I couldn’t get a girl to look at me if I painted my teeth purple and shaved a profanity into my hair. Luckily that phase only last a year and by my sophomore year I found comfort in my brother’s shadow. I got skipped in the third grade, so Eric and I were in the same grade in school.
Now it’s junior year and God blessed us with the ability to squeeze into the cool kids group in school. Actually, at Edison High in late 90s, being on the track team allowed almost instance cool status or at least you thought it did. It seemed like every girl in school ran on the track team at one point or another, until they realized that practice might get hard or they might have to sweat out their perm and that was the end of that. Nicole and Lisa both ran on the track team but were now content to be just track team affiliates. Lisa and Nicole had reputation too, which I tried to warn Eric about when he started with Nicole. Word passed that they were easy, that tons of guys at school and already explored their barely-out-of-adolescent sexuality with one or the other of them – Nicole or Lisa. But Eric was sprung so what else could I do. I accepted it. And I accepted Lisa, who turned out to be not terrible to hang out with. Plus those days when she chose to find some lip gloss, high heels and the hair dresser, I didn’t mind her company at all.
It was about a mile walk to the bus station from school. Eric, Nicole and I were headed home after school. Nicole knew about my lack of booty experience. But still she dropped a bomb on me.
Rick, you might want to be prepared tonight, she said with a devilish look. Eric had this knowing look on his face too. Lisa might have something for you.
She told me that Lisa was planning on letting me in tonight. Letting me in. I was as terrified as I was excited because at this point, I for one didn’t care who I had sex with – just that I had sex. And soon. I went out and bought some condoms. Eric and I stayed at our father’s house on the weekends. He always went to bed like a 90-year old man. In the bed by seven. Lights out by nine. That worked great for us because that was as good as having the house to our 16-year old, horny selves. Honestly, I couldn’t tell what happen before or after the main event. But Nicole and Lisa behaved like they had no parents. We were all in the living room of my dad’s house at 1 a.m. with my dad dead to the world and all the lights off in the house and me thinking, ‘Holy shit, I think I’m going to have sex tonight.”
The living room was big enough that we could barely see each other on our respective couches, clear across the room. My brother’s voice came out the darkness like my sex conscience, alerting me to keep quiet on this squeaky ass couch so that my pops doesn’t come downstairs to be the fifth person in the room to witness this monumentous moment in my life We were all talking, about who-knows what when the words faded and the silence gave way to the flapping of teenage lips and muffled groans. Lisa and I were on the couch right underneath a window that looked out into the street so the street lamps filtered in a romantic illumination over us. Not that this was really a romantic moment instead of the first in what would be a barrage of relationships mounted on casual sex.
We kissed for a while. The way only high school kids know how -- and I was waiting. Normally, I would always try to find a way to have sex with a girl instantly, knowing that it wasn’t going to happen, which is probably what gave me the balls to try in the first place. But this time I let her be the aggressor, hoping she would usher me into sexual-royalty.
I don’t remember talking. She just saddled me. I kept thinking about what I should do with my hands. Where should I go first? It was like I had forgotten how to make-out, which I felt like I was an expert at by now anyway, since it was all I had really done. I rode my hands up her sides. She had on a wife-beater tank top and jeans. I slipped my hands from her waist to her breasts while she sunk her teeth into my neck. All I’m thinking about is the condom in my back pocket and when the appropriate time to pull it out is going to be. The more we kissed the more bold I become. I cup her ass. I squeeze. She moaned softly in my ear. My shaft throbbed. She started to lift my shirt. I took it off. Shit, accelerate the process. When she tugged at my sweatpants I ditched those too.
Now, I’d been here before -- half-naked with some girl that likes to get naked and not have sex. So although I took Nicole’s word I still reserved some doubt. That was until she let me take her pants off. Every part of me launched into high alert. I had to play it smooth. I slid off the couch and kneeled in between her legs. I kissed her stomach and her hips while I reached into the back pocket of my sweatpants laying in a heap on the floor. Then I balled it in my fist and slowly stood up. She laid flat on the couch, squirming. Every skin flick I’d ever seen, every image from every sex story I’d ever heard stampeded my brain.
Put your back into it. Go slow. Build up speed. You gotta work it like this. Don’t go in there short strokin’.
I mounted her and started grinding up against her. This is as far as I had ever gone with any chick so I was still in known terriority. I had even forgotten that my brother was on the side of the room until I heard her in a screaming whisper, Go on the fucking floor. You’re making too much noise. Stupid couch.
I pulled her panties off. I could smell her moistness. The call of the wild. Then I strapped the condom on. Seamlessly. I have no idea how I pulled that off.
Lisa guided me inside her. I looked at the time. 1:47 a.m. February 21.
Don’t forget the time, I told myself. I waited for the parade to march through. I waited for the fireworks and the Mayor of Sexual Activity to issue my pass into the land of grown men. I waited to be devoured by a feeling uncontainable.
But nothing. I was just having sex. Pumping in a unfamiliar but natural way and watching her face for signs that said, “This motherfucker has no idea what he’s doing.” I lasted a lot longer than I thought I would too. Then when it was over, Lisa said something I could have never expected. But it was the greatest thing she could have ever said to me and I’ve probably never heard a better thing since.
You sure you never did that before?