Female • 14 • United Kingdom
I lost my virginity when I was fourteen, to my best friend at the time. He was also fourteen. I do realize how shocking that is, to be so young, but in reality it hasn't done any damage to my sexual life at all, and I could say that it's one of the contributing factors to how healthy my sexual life is. I did it primarily because I was bored, and he was bored too, and it was during the height of the summer, a time in which, when you're young, anything seems possible.
I should probably add that both my parents are ex-hippies (ones who decided in the '80s that if a revolution was possible, it would've happened by then, so they got married and had three girls). So walking around naked was pretty much normal — nay, expected — from birth until puberty. I've always been comfortable walking around with only a smile, and when I got to puberty, I was frustrated at how I couldn't wear (or not wear) what I liked anymore without being laughed at or disapproved of. This was especially annoying for me, because I developed very very early and without any brothers, and the only knowledge I had of naked men was my middle-aged Jewish father.
So I suppose I was a bit more curious than other girls about what was happening with the opposite sex under their clothes. Because of my liberal upbringing, I had no interest in clothes or Barbies, which I saw, and still see, as a sort of cage for my gender. As a result I was practically shunned by other girls, so most of my friends were boys, whom I had a lot more in common with. My best friend was a boy named Adam, who had bright blue eyes and such pale skin that it was almost blue too. When we were fourteen I was at his house and he suddenly kissed me, I laughed at first because I thought he was joking, then soon realized I felt the same way and kissed him back.
We said nothing about it for a while until one day, when we were at my house watching TV, I brought it up. He asked, "Should we try anything else?" And I said, "Ooh, I know! Let's have sex!"
It was a kind of a random decision to make but we were both excited and it seemed like fun, what with everyone going on about how great it was. So we went to a nearby meadow, which was dotted with bracken and field flowers. There were deer nearby, in the shade, which was nice yet unsettling.
We flattened some of the longest grass and sat down and started to kiss. He undid his fly, and I took my panties off; I was impressed when he brought out a condom. (I hadn't thought of that.) I was surprised at how pink his penis was, and I spent some time just looking at his body, curious. When we started, I still had my white dress on, which made me laugh, and I continued to laugh the whole way through. I was so happy and I was having fun. I didn't have an orgasm; it was over too quickly. He was very gentle and asked me if I was okay afterwards. I said I was, and it was true.
I forgot to ask him not to tell his friends. So, predictably, he told his best guy friend, who then told so-and-so and on it went until it was common knowledge that we'd had sex. I didn't really mind — no one was calling me a slut. Girls were more curious than scandalized.
We sort of drifted apart after that. I think I must have done something for his ego, as he became unbearably macho after that, which was a shame, as he was really a nice guy until then.
I really don't regret it. At seventeen, when I finally had sex with someone I was in love with, I wasn't awkward or fumbling, and I was able to enjoy it more as I knew how things worked. I think it beat having sex with someone I didn't really trust at some random party.