If you’ve read about my first time, you know that I waited until I was nineteen to lose (¡get rid of!) my virginity. As I mentioned then, it wasn't for lack of trying. I'd been trying to get laid since I watched my folks doin' it through the keyhole when I was six. Can you blame me? Whatever they were doing, it looked like fun.
I started in first grade. There was this cute little girl named Yolanda in my class who would chase me around the school. Standard stuff, but once we got around to the back where nobody was looking I would pretend to trip up so she could catch me. There we would kiss until we heard Yolanda’s mother calling for her. On some mornings we would make sure we were the last two to hang up our coats just so we could hook up in the little closet in our classroom. I’m sure our teacher must've wondered what took us so long to get our galoshes off. Okay, maybe I wasn’t really trying to get laid, yet; but I was certainly laying the groundwork.
My mother gave me my first sex book at seven. It was one of those “Where Do Babies
Come From?” deals with cartoon-like illustrations and everything. That’s where I first learned the terms "penis" (pronounced like “peanuts” without the “t”) and "vagina" (pronounced like “Virginia” without the “r” and the second “i”) That same year, my uncle gave me my first porno mag. I think it was a Penthouse. I learned more reading the dirty magazine (Yes, I did read the articles.) than the "baby" book. Granted, there were some scary moments, like the picture of a vagina with big, sharp teeth, like a bear trap. It was a little confusing, and had me wondering if sex is what I really wanted.
There wasn’t much conflict considering that all the girls my age never wanted to go that far, anyway. There was the one girl when I was eight—I wish I could remember her name—that was a few years older than me. She had two brothers who were close friends (and whose names I can’t recall, either) who invited me to my first sleepover. I was mortified when I woke up to them "messin' around" on the top bunk of their bed. They looked kinda like they were playing Leap Frog, except that the older brother wasn’t leaping anywhere. He was just stroking away behind his little brother. They told me they were just practicing and invited me to join in. They even told me I could keep my undies on. Even then, male-on-male action was way too icky for me. Granted, I didn't know back then that most people's first sexual experience is with someone of the same sex. Nevertheless, I kindly declined their invitation.
The next day, though, their sister, who I suppose was around eleven—and an Amazon compared to me—offered to teach me how to do my multiplication tables, but only if I made out with her. That was the best math lesson I ever had and gave me a leg up on the second grade competition. She wouldn't go all-the-way, but she went far enough for my eight-year-old ego.
The rest of my pre-teens went pretty much like that, a lot of
closed-mouth kissing and dry humping. My little brother's father's older daughter from a previous relationship (my step-half sister, I guess), my best friend Francisco's older sister the day before they moved to Tampa and I never saw either again, the Rolek sisters in one of their closets while their dad was at work and a 45 of the Police's Don’t Stand so Close to Me played over & over on their record player.
The most painful moment, to that point, was with this cute girl Tasha who I'd had the biggest crush on when I first moved to Maryland from Jersey. During my year there, she rarely ever gave me the time of day. Finally, the day that I'm moving to Baltimore City from the county, she invited me into her place and laid my first e
ver French kiss on me. Talk about shock & awe. My mother had to drag me, kicking & screaming, to the city.
But before leaving the good ol' former redneck haven that was Middle River, Maryland I should mention the one time I did almost get laid there. I was thirteen, and I hung out with a bunch of underachieving teenage drunks. As a matter of fact, I was an underachieving teenage drunk at the time, myself. Anyway, word got around that there's this girl who wants to have a gangbang with the lot of us. We gathered together and headed down to Middlesex Shopping Center where we were suppose to meet her.
I was thinking, Wow! Its finally gonna happen on the trip over. Once there, I realized she wasn’t the most attractive girl in our circle of friends, but it was no time to get picky. ¿Beggars cant be choosers, right? Well this girl looks right at me and says, "Not the one with the glasses." When my friends came back, they told me they didn't go through with it, that they didn't like the way she smelled, that they just let her blow them. I knew the truth, they were just trying to make me feel better about being rejected so viciously.
I had been living in Baltimore for six months when I met Bobbi Jo during summer break on the playground in Patterson Park. With her masculine features and her mullet, she was a little butch for me, even back then. But I wasn't getting any other play, so I figured why not. ¡I even had a good shot at nailing her! We were walking home across the park when we stopped at this big bush. "Let's go in there," she said as she ducks down and goes through this little opening, "It's really cool, like a cave."
I followed her in, and she already had her shorts at her ankles flashing her own big bush. Maybe I was too shocked. Maybe I was too taken aback by her forwardness. For whatever reason, I turned down my first real chance at early teen nookie with some lame-brained excuse of being late getting home.
The next day, I headed back down to the park, knowing I'm not backing out this time. She wasn't there. Her cousin Tammy was. Tammy was cuter by far, more feminine, with the most adorable chin dimple. I'm a sucker for chin dimples. Anyway, it was obvious I liked Tammy, and considering the extended French kissing session we shared, she liked me too. We made a pact that I would break the news to her cousin gently, and Tammy would reward me with the long sought after Home Run.
In my zeal, I told Jimmy, my best friend at the time, with the promise he would keep it a secret until I could tell Bobbi Jo myself. The next day, I got to the playground and Bobbi Jo's already there. “Listen,” I started, “I have something to tell you—”
“I know, you’re breaking up with me to go with my cousin Tammy,” she interrupted. Jimmy had told her. If you want to know how I dealt with Jimmy, read my essay, A Little Puerto Rican. Anyway, the next time I saw Tammy, she had cooled off on me and decided to dump me. I cried, not because she dumped me, but because I had ruined my chances of getting any from Bobbi Jo, and Tammy had dumped me before I'd had the chance to get any from her.
Things picked up in high school. I was fifteen when I started hanging out at this girl Chrissie's house. She was pretty big in junior high, but in high school, she had trimmed down rather nicely. She had a boyfriend, but she introduced me to Peggy. I forget her last name, but it kinda sounded like Puddles, and I like that, so I'll just call her Peggy Puddles. I'm a sucker for alliteration.
Anyhow, we would all hang out in Chrissie's bedroom—her with her boyfriend on her bed and me with Peggy on the extra bed—with the lights out. The rules were simple. Anything goes, except actual sex. Actual sex would, apparently, get you in trouble, but everything else was fair game. This, my friends, is where I mastered my cunnilingual techniques. I mean soft, quick tongue strokes, slow. hard ones, spelling my name on her clit in cursive, switching to print... You get the picture. I was hooked after my first lick.
This went on for weeks, until Peggy dumped me. Why? Because I would never go all the way. Apparently, I didn't get the wink wink, nudge nudge that came with the no sex rule, and she dropped me for someone who would, indeed, give her what she wanted more than a tireless tongue and frisky fingers. Ironically, the dude she dumped me for ended up jerking off onto Peggy & Chrissie from the 2nd floor landing as they slept in the living room one night.
As I'm writing the rest of these stories, I'm realizing that this is probably the subject of at least a couple of blog entries. Being as this little episode so nicely sums up my early attempts at getting some, this is as good a place to stop as any. But this ain't over yet. God has yet more roadblocks to place on my quest for the Holiest of Grails, and the closer I get, the more intentional it seems. Stay tuned for my next installment.
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