TMI Thursday: Misplacing the V-Card

I was 19. Chase & I had been dating about 2 months. He was older (23) and experienced. I had just gotten my first kiss on Valentine's Day when I was 18, and my first boyfriend, Patrick, and I didn't do much more than makeout and dry hump over clothes.

Dates with Chase were like a practical application of sex education. We quickly went through lessons 1, 2, 3, and then Chase was ready to slide into home (yes, I know that's a mixed metaphor--but go with me here).

I stalled for quite sometime, mostly because I was positively terrified. At the time, I thought Chase was freakishly huge. After our experience last September, I'm not sure if I was just reallllly shy or something else. Camile insists that penises can grow--do they shrink too with age?

Finally, one night we're getting into it and I get into the usual routine of fondling and oral sex. It was about all I was comfortable with. Not to mention, he still lived with his mother. His bedroom was next to the bathroom-- and I'm not exactly a quiet person. She liked me, though I'm not sure she would if she knew how often I sneaked into the house after everyone else had gone to sleep.

Chase is more insistent tonight.


"I want to make love to you," he purrs in my ear, the dim lighting reflecting into tiger stripes across his cinnamon colored back.

"I don't know if I'm ready for that, Chase," I insist. He runs his tongue down my neck and across my shoulder, turning my deep breaths into ragged gasps. It isn't long before I'm begging for release, and he is only going to give it to me in one way. I can't take it anymore.


"Fuck me," I command. A condom materializes out of thin air and he slides it on, ready to slide into me. I tense, cause now I'm anxious as hell as he slides in. It hurts. I ask him to stop. He kisses me, trying to get me to relax, but I can't. I'm not ready, and I know it, as much as I want to please him.

"It'll just be like pulling off a band aid. It'll be okay," he purrs again. "You love me don't you?"

"I can't do this!" I roll away from him and start crying. He sighs angrily, pulls the condom off, and lays down as far away from me as he can on the single bed. I know he's upset.

After a few minutes later, I curl into him.

"I'm sorry...." I plead in my best "I'm-cute-please-don't be-mad-at-me" voice. He says nothing, and turns on the TV. I stare at the movie--Resident Evil--for a few minutes. I'm being punished--I understand that through my naiveté. I do the only thing I know how to do—I grovel.

Burrowing my head under the covers, I lick down to him, taking him in my mouth, wincing momentarily at residual latex taste. He stops me.

“I don’t want you to give me head. I want to fuck you.”

I answer by giving him a condom.

Again, he tries to slide into me. I try to relax, but as he stretches me, I involuntarily tighten up. The impatient look on his face turns my stomach. This was not the patient, loving experience I wanted to have. And so many questions run through my mind: Could I get pregnant? Am I ready to give up the Virgin label? Will he call me tomorrow? Could I go to Hell for this?

He’s the one to turn away, sitting on the edge of the bed. I watch as he takes care of himself. I try to help, but he shoves me away, so hard I tumble over onto the floor. I kneel watching his cum rain down onto the carpet, where it pools in angry drops beside the two unused condoms.

I still stay there that night, laying next to him in the tiny bed. He’s hanging off on the edge of the bed, but when I try to pull him closer to me, he pushes my arms away.

It’s no surprise that Chase broke up with me a week later. Its 9 more months until I lose my virginity, to a Naval petty officer stationed at the sub base. 15 minutes later, I found out he was engaged.

For more Indecent Exposures, check out the other entries at TMI Thursday.