First times… Memories… The sexual journey has so many firsts. The first snog, the first feel of a boob, the first time you see someone/someone sees you naked, the first hand-job/fingerfuck, the first blow-job/licking a girl’s cunt, the first fuck. So many, many different firsts. All new, all exciting (hopefully), all more than just a little nerve-racking, and all of them discoveries of the things we like/dislike as we embark on a journey that, if we’re lucky, we will continue upon for the rest of our lives.
But what counts as a sexual first? Is it the same thing for both partners? Where does teenage hormone-fuelled fumbling cross the line and become sexual activity?
For me, the first “sexy” thing I did was playing with a girl’s boobs. First outside her clothes, then moving under her top, then under her bra; teasing her nipples with my fingers before moving on to my lips and tongue. I remember the noises she made as I touched them; how they changed with every new experience. I remember how her nipples stiffened as I touched them with my fingers and her moan of delight as I replaced my fingers with my mouth.
Was that sexual? No “actual” sex took place; there wasn’t even any oral happening that day. But, to my teenage self, it definitely seemed sexual. I had given pleasure, physically, to another person. Neither of us climaxed (at least I didn’t, and I’m fairly sure she didn’t either), but I had used my body to give hers pleasure in a physical way.
But what about my fist ever receipt of sexual pleasure? The first time another person made me come.
Same girl, different date. Serious make-out session on her bed when her parents weren’t home. Me in my boxer shorts, her in just her knickers. Me on my back, her sitting astride my legs rubbing me through the material of my underwear.
Fuck me, it felt good. So different from when I stroked myself. She never touched my bare cock; mostly it was just the friction of the material against me as she rubbed. I was aroused. She was getting off on how much I was enjoying her.
I remember the momentary look of anguish when I suggested she might want to stop before “something” happened. I remember her quite clearly telling me that she wanted to make “something” happen. And I remember the smile on her face when I told her she could carry on.
I can’t remember how much longer I lasted; 10 minutes or 10 seconds, it was all a blur. I do remember her involuntary flinch at my initial eruption, and then her hand returning to gently stroke my cock from outside my increasingly sticky boxer shorts, and how good it felt. Afterwards, as she cuddled into me, the softness of her boobs pressed into my side, she absently stroked my cock some more as my breathing returned to normal.
In the months that passed, we both moved on to using our mouths; and much later, we became each other’s “firsts”. That “first” however, was just one in a long line of first experiences we shared together.