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My first boyfriend and my first time, though I’m not sure if it even counted. I don’t think he ever came during the few times we tried to have penetrative sex. We broke up because I cheated on him my first week of university.
A skinny art student who lived below me when I moved to university. We bonded over a shared love of whiny post punk bands and comics. He gave me my first orgasm in my tiny bedroom whilst a party raged on outside. He snuck out after I fell asleep. He eventually apologized a few months later for the disappearing act and suggested we hang out one night which I politely refused.
Feeling ugly after my experience with Rory, I tried to enter into a fuck buddy relationship with Craig, but I ended up in a relationship with him for just over a year. He was overweight, addicted to his Xbox and couldn’t boil an egg. My friends couldn’t understand what I saw in him and we broke up after I found out he had been banging my best friend since the beginning. I felt hurt by her actions and offended by his, as I had always felt like the most attractive out of either of them. The last time I saw him he was getting a handjob in a booth of the bar I worked in.
An epic but not a romance. I was his first and it was a mutual agreement to help me get over my breakup and let him lose his virginity. We continued to hook up sporadically over the next two years and became close friends. This ended abruptly for a few months when I fell pregnant. I had an abortion, and we avoided talking for a few months until we started to fuck all over again during one long summer. We both fell for each other at different times when the other wasn’t prepared to enter a relationship and it was decided we couldn’t be together because any break up would make things awkward with our close group of friends. We never progressed past the casual stage. Ongoing.
An angry, obnoxious young atheist, the type you find in philosophy departments across the Western world. Horribly jealous and he even dictated what I wore to work. The sex was rough but not in a way I enjoyed. I stopped sleeping with him a month before I eventually had the courage to break up with him and went on to sleep with Euan during this period, which lead to the pregnancy. I regret how I treated him after the break up, but I was so wrapped up in my own problems I made things worse by showing up at his door in tears on multiple occasions.
No one knows that I slept with him. A rugby player with a number in the 100s, he was the exact opposite of who I would normally go for. The sex was terrible and didn’t live up to his reputation. He bit me hard when he went down on me and came on my face without asking. I’ve denied it happened ever since and to his credit, he’s started telling people he was bullshitting when he realized I wasn’t cool with people knowing. Since then he’s slept with a few of my friends who have reported disappointing experiences too and who have then praised me for never actually fucking him.
A half French, half Spanish model and the flatmate of a close friend. I drank a bottle of wine with him one evening and we fucked on the kitchen counter after he casually asked me if I wanted to have sex. Sadly, the amazing sex we had the first time was a fluke and when we slept together again it was over in seconds. I slept with him a third time but it was broken up early after our friends came in and threw Jenga blocks at us.