Love & Sex

My First Time: Female, 16, California

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"He followed suit and began rubbing the zipper line of my jeans. Smart as he was, he hadn’t taken anatomy yet."

Female, 16, California

We were both such flirts. Actually I was a flirt and he just happened to get a lot of female attention because he was the Perfect Guy. 

I have no idea how we met for the first time. My first memory of him was actually set in motion when another guy asked me out on a date. I didn’t want to say no, so dramatically (in my mind) I ran away. I assumed this suitor of mine was following as I ran home from school, but when I finally turned to check, there was no one behind me. There was, however, someone about thirty feet ahead of me. “I swear, I’m not stalking you!” I shouted ahead. He turned around and I could tell he was weirded out. But he laughed, we walked, we talked, and we went our separate ways home.

From then on we were friends. When I ask him what he thought of me back then, he says that he thought I was the pretty one, the friendly one, the one that wore all those peek-a-boo shirts that occasionally revealed tasteful sideboob. (Those shirts have since been passed on to my younger sister). He was the cute one, the popular one, the polite one, the adventurous one, the one that only got one B in his entire high school career, the one that wore punk rock t-shirts. 

Junior year my class went on a week-long trip to the east coast for school. He and I were in the same tour group and ended up having to spend a lot of the trip together. We ice skated at the Rockefeller Center, snuck out of our hotel to visit Times Square at 2am, and talked in the hallways at night. We finally kissed in the auditorium at the National Museum of American History in Washington D.C. After that, we kissed so much that people on the plane ride home decided that we had joined the Junior Mile High Club.

We got back to school the week after our trip, and a frenemy (I cringe at using this word, but it is the only way to describe her) of mine started a bet on how long we would last. One optimist bet three months tops. Most others were not this kind. Like I said, I was a flirt and the girls were all over him. At one month, he said, “I love you.” I said it back and meant it with all my 16-year-old heart. Three months went by. And then four and five. 

It had been six months and I still hadn’t told my parents. I wasn’t ashamed, but I knew they would not understand. If they had known that I wasn’t spending my after-school hours learning my SAT vocab and studying for AP tests at the library, but rather making out in the park, they would certainly not have approved.

Sometime after the six month mark, his parents were out for the afternoon. We had a few hours before they would be back, so I went to his house for the first time. He took me to his room and we started making out. Both of our shirts came off. Neither of us knew what came next. There we were, horizontal on his bed, with him on top looking down at me. He touched my bra questioningly. It was then that we started making rules for ourselves; today the bra could come off, but we wouldn’t touch or take off anything below the belt. 

The bra did come off and I felt self conscious as he unclasped it, but one look from him told me that there was no reason to be insecure. So we rolled around wearing nothing but jeans and socks. I broke our first rule when I reached down and tentatively grabbed the bulge in his jeans. He followed suit and began rubbing the zipper line of my jeans. Smart as he was, he hadn’t taken anatomy yet.  

After that, our after-school park days got more serious. We made and broke rules gradually. Hands went under the pants, but there is only so much you can do in a public park without being REALLY inappropriately obvious. 

Here and there we had early dismissal from school. On those days, we power walked from school to my house as soon as that last bell rang. By and by all the clothes disappeared and we were doing everything except the actual deed. We agreed that we would wait until we bought condoms. 16 and pregnant was a stereotype that I could have never lived down. 

Despite this, our first time was without a condom. We were lying on my bed naked just touching and talking and looking up at the glow in the dark stars on my ceiling. It was the middle of the day, but the shutters in my room were closed so that only streaks of light shone through. It was nice. There was this curiosity in the air and since it was as good a time as any, we tried it. He pushed into me slowly. I wasn’t scared of it. Mentally I had been ready and my body got the memo too. I felt a new fullness and then it just felt good. He pulled out before too long and neither of us finished that day. Later that night I sent him a link to Akon and Lonely Island’s “I Just Had Sex” music video.

 

It’s been three years and now we are in college together. I feel so lucky to have had a first time that has grown into this great big love.