My First Time

My First Time: Female, 17, Mississippi

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He was tall, dark, and handsome – a soccer player for a local university who came from Colombia and was majoring in business? Communications? I don’t remember. He was 24. He lived with a few teammates in an apartment complex near the university, a place that one of my more wily friends frequented for testosterone and alcohol-fueled parties.

I had just gotten into my dream college, and, according to this friend, “You can’t be a virgin in college! Frat guys can sense that shit.” So, along with another friend I had known since preschool, we went to one of these parties, convincing the soccer boys we were 19 even though one of us was 16 and the other two barely 17.

“I’m taking a semester off to volunteer in the city,” I told one British guy while white-knuckling a glass of punch I grabbed from the kitchen. He looked wary because I still looked young even with my thick eyeliner, but after a few more drinks, he relaxed and eventually got up to go to the bathroom. I didn’t see him (or my friend who’d invited me) for the rest of the night.

I kept drinking, listening to the loud techno music, particularly Swedish House Mafia, a group I hadn’t yet heard of but that was “huge in the UK, mate.” After a few cracks about my Southern accent, one guy, a 29-year old assistant coach/DirecTV salesman invited my remaining friend and I (the only girls in the room) outside to smoke. I realized how drunk I was when I stood up but went outside anyway because I thought the weed would reverse the alcohol.

When we got outside, we made the guy show us his sales pitch: “I’m here to sell you ladies something revolutionary. Have you guys heard about our new packages?” he said in his Midwestern twang, winking at my friend when he said the word “package.” Soon, they were making out on the balcony and I took that as my cue to leave. When I got inside, even more fucked up from the weed, there was only one guy left in the living room. He told me everyone else went out salsa dancing then asked me if I wanted another drink. I said sure.

I sat close to him, sipping on more punch and noticing how good he smelled. He was telling me about his home in Colombia with a very thick accent. He showed me a picture of the flag and a few YouTube videos of his city while I tried to impress him with my two years of Spanish. I found out that he loved “American rock ’n’ roll” and his favorite band was The Strokes. He pulled them up on his laptop and before the opening of “12:51” was over, I was on top of him, grabbing ferociously at the buttons of his shirt. It didn’t matter that I was drunk or that I would probably never see this guy again – in the moment, this was all I wanted. A warm hand on the small of my back and the mixture of alcohol and music radiating through my whole body. A short while later, he carried me into his room and I carried his laptop.

All right, let’s go, you convinced me.

He laid me on his bed and turned around to undress and grab a condom from his bookshelf. I also undressed, wondering whether I should tell him that he was about to take my virginity. I decided against it, figuring that I could rely on the few porn videos I’d seen for skill and, if I bled, just tell him I’d had my period early. The alcohol made the whole thing relatively easy and quick. I don’t remember any pain or blood, just the thumping of music.

Take it slow but don’t warn me.

We shifted into various positions without trouble but when I was on top of him, he kept slipping out. I was unaware of what was happening but after he shot me a look and mumbled something in Spanish, I got under him and stayed there the rest of the time.

After he was finished, he threw away the condom and I put my underwear back on (inside out) and we sat on his bed for a few minutes, not touching, just listening to music and breathing. I remember smiling as I got dressed and glancing at the clock when I left the room. 12:53. He came out a few minutes later, smelling good, and I sat on his lap watching NCIS and letting him kiss my neck until my two friends came back to the living room, signaling that it was time to go. We kissed goodnight and I never saw him again.

He found me on Facebook recently, after a year and a half of no contact and asked me if it was true that he had taken my virginity. I told him he had and thanked him for finding me, telling him it was good to finally have a last name to associate with an unforgettable first time.