27 year old virgin
Reply #128 - August 26, 2015, 05:43 PM
Awww, suki
No one is asking, but I'm in the mood to share more than is possibly warranted on this thread.
It's hard for me to explain my first time. It's a subjective decision for me to actually pick out what exactly constitutes my first time.
Was it with the sex worker in Amsterdam, Mimi, whom I loved with all of my heart, for all of five minutes? I was willing to give her my virginity, all my pocket money, as well as some of my best moves. I'm not sure that she is my first actually, because she informed me after that exhilarating and sensual five minutes, that I wasn't actually inside her at any point, and asked me if I was a virgin. I was virgin-denier enough at this point, to mean that when those fatal yet innocent remarks came, I was instantly rendered incapable of finishing the job off that I had barely started.
Was it the girlfriend a few years later, who I stalled from committing the scary act with, because of my then chronic lack of confidence and experience. I made excuses not to go there for months, but somehow gained enough practice with her to become considered as the world's greatest foreplay expert, without actually technically committing to any vaginal act. Do my otherwise innovative and rewarding exploits with her count as my first bits of lovemaking? Quite possibly, but perhaps not?
Was it the budding thespian, who I eventually decided would be the one, only for me to realise at the critical time that I was from the sub-species of man, known as homo non-erectus? Both of our insecurities ensured that there would never be a second attempt. Blaming herself, she left immediately, taking with her my heart, my idealism, my unassuming belief in one-love, but unfortunately, not my technical virginity.
Was it the shy Asian girl who followed, with whom I got further than anyone else, only to realise that either I was a huge monster where it most counted, or she was made to accept lesser men.
Was it the sexually liberated hippy-child, who carried on regardless, even when I gave up and resigned myself to yet another failure? When friends ask me of my most memorable sexual moment ever, to this day I recount the instance where I found myself lying next to her, staring at the ceiling contentedly, whilst puffing away at a cigarette. What makes that moment so memorable for me is that if I were to glance across to the left at that serene moment, which I cared not to too often, I would have seen her stark-naked, vigorously finishing the job off that I was unable to finish. The thought occurred to me at the time that I really should have been the one that was satisfying her, to save her from her forced self-employment. But, alas, I let that thought fall immediately into the abyss of the pitiful-self that lay deep within me during this period, and I carried on puffing nonchalantly at the cigarette.
Was it with the countless women that I fucked up with for the years that followed these? I kissed and caressed and sucked and rubbed to my hearts content with them and in them, and around them, and spent many a naked night with them, so it is really quite remarkable that none of them can truly count as my first.
The girl that I eventually would count as my first came along when I was in my late twenties. She showed remarkable patience and understanding with me. In turn, I tried a little more honesty than before, and less bravado than I had done to date. That could have proven the critical change that helped me climb the mountain that I had now created for myself, and she finally helped loosen the noose of virginity that by now strangled me constantly, and lay like a mad weight on the perception I had of my manhood... The eventual act when it came was a stuttering one. I think we even had time for a cigarette in between attempts, before I actually sustained something for long enough to actually make the event memorable. Nor was the act a loving one, even though I loved her truly. It was not functional or a necessity, because her and I easily had fun in other ways. It was not emotional neither, because the overriding emotion and drive for us both was for me to get to the end. And it was definitely not earth-shattering, because I had neither the confidence, nor the appetite, for adventure. In the end, it was also not the marathon that I had dreamt of, because I was grateful for and accepted release at the first moment it reared it's premature head. Finally, it was not climactic even, because relief overwhelmed any bliss that possibly existed underneath all of the strain... It. Was. Just. Something. That. I. Had. To. Do.
I moved on from that by taking revenge for all the broken moments that I had faced to that point. I made up for lost experiences, and even broke hearts indiscriminately. But I will never forget that girl who eventually helped me get over what quite possibly could have held onto me forever. So thank you Amanda...Or was it Sarah? Hena? Actually, it could have been Rachel... It's a crying shame, but I forget my saviour's name.
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Topic: 27 year old virgin