Virginity, my loss of

Generally, the first time for anyone really sucks. My first time, it was more out of curiosity than lust. I was in a romantic relationship, and we had done a lot of other things, but not done it yet.

So, one day, I just decided that I had gotten curious enough that I wanted to do it. It does hurt, a lot, the first time. I just laid down on the bed with my pants off, and he kneeled between my legs, and entered me. Dear God, that hurt. I bled. I was terrified that I was pregnant (I was young and didn't know much). We didn't even finish, I hurt too much.

That being said, it does get much better. Try using lubricants until you're more comfortable. Things to help you get more comfortable - Make out lots. Have fun. Kiss. Hug. Learn each other's bodies. Learn what pleases each other - where to touch, what gets them going... Definitely, teach your man what pleases you. There is no greater joy than a man who aims to please.

Sex is one of the BEST THINGS in life. (Spoken like a true college slut, eh?) It really is. It can make time stop. You forget where you are (and whether the windows are open and the neighbours can hear you). It gets rid of stress, and makes you happy and relaxed. Try not to act too happy though, people can tell.

At least my friend Karen can. ;)

I feel the need to correct mblase on a couple of points.*** Particularly because my first time was shockingly similar to reikigirl's, the only real exception being that I was using the boy.

Firstly, let's discuss passion. Though our higher selves are always in control of our bodies, there are instances where we see no need to refuse ourselves our physical desires. Like sex. Having sex on the first date does not doom the relationship, any more than it secures its long and fruitful future. And sex is rape when one party says stop and the other party doesn't. Otherwise, it may be consensual with misgivings, but it is consensual nonetheless.

Secondly, realism. Of course there's a chance he just wanted sex. There's always that chance.. When a boy offers to buy you a drink, when he invites you to come home with him, when you exchange glances in the supermarket checkout line. It's always a possibility that anyone only wants sex from you. But again, it's your choice: wait until you know for sure they want more, or have sex as soon as your body is ready and be willing to deal with the possible eventuality that they really were only after one thing.

Third, strategy. I'm glad, personally, that I didn't lose my virginity with someone I loved. Because it's akward and confusing and, for some women, incredibly painful. It took me an entire summer to let him do more than put it in before I didn't demand he pull it right back out. And this may sound silly, particularly since he was a virgin, too, but I hated him for it. Hated him for not simply knowing how to use this equipment he had and I didn't (though in truth, it wasn't his fault - he was just big). I broke up with him less than a month after the event.

Losing your virginity is not a fun and easy thing, except in the cases of a very small percentage of the population. A lot of boys find it just as off-putting as girls, I'm told. Maybe it's because we build it up so much - sex! - this wonderful thing that people have killed and died and paid for. And then we get there, that night that makes us adults in one more way, and it's messy and not necessarily sexy and we're nervous and our hands fumble and we think, This? This is all? or, as reikigirl put it, This is what we depend on for the survival of the species?

I say the first time follows a completely different set of rules than any other sexual experience in your life, and you have the right to approach it however works best for you.


*** After-the-fact caveat: I have no idea what this was a response to. Sorry. Whatever it was has been expunged. I could make something up... ? I suspect that someone said that if you're not 100% gung ho rending your undergarments ready to have sex, it's rape. Then again, it also sounds like someone mentioned the old "why buy the cow when you can get the sex for free". Make your own argument, apply mine to it, and tell me who wins.

Note: This is a reply to a noders write-up (now gone) which roughly stated that there is no reason a female losing her virginity should feel pain and that because there was pain, the intentions of the deflowering male where less than honorable. I leave this here because it has some valid points.

I have to say something to this bit of flagrant ignorance. As some may well know, the size of a given woman's vagina--as the length of a given mans penis--is not the same size nor shape as everyone else. In some rare cases, a woman's vaginal opening is all together non-existent and requires a minor surgical procedure during early adolescence in order for her to even menstruate.

There is almost always blood when the hymen is ruptured and where there is smoke there is fire. This blood does not mystically come from "Hymen Land", it comes from a tear in the skin; torn skin hurts. Torn skin being agitated by a moving penis isn't exactly a day at Disney Land, now is it? Please explain to me how a man with a slightly larger-than-normal penis entering a virgin woman with a slightly smaller-than-normal vaginal opening and tearing it is not going to cause some pain. Really, I am very curious to hear your explanation how the universal laws of physics halt momentarily during the monogamous, "Christian" deflowering of a virgin.

I would also like to point out that often, in some fashion, pain during sex is desirable to the people involved. I feel your hypothesis is staggeringly one-sided. Sex should be whatever the people involved damn well want it to be, not what you have decided it should be for them.

Time to open your eyes there camper; it is a big world and you are apparently already trailing the rest tour group by a few decades.

Just as a counterpoint to a lot of the above: my first time didn't suck. Of course, I had been masturbating with my fingers for eight years by then, and using tampons -- I probably didn't have much of a hymen left.

November of sophomore year of college. I had known the guy for a year, dated him for 2.5 months, and it was Friday the 13th. He wasn't a virgin and had been showing me, basically, the even-more-fun stuff you could do with a partner. The whole week we had been inching farther and farther toward penile penetration, had gotten the condoms by Wednesday and Friday night found his dorm room empty except for us.

The space on top of the loft was pretty cramped. We made out and such until there was no chance that I wasn't lubricated. Then we tried penetration, first with him on top but we couldn't seem to get him inside. Then with me on top, which worked better. It ached a little, and there was a small amount of blood, but not much. After a bit during the act, the sensation became more pleasant. Not orgasmic (that time), but fun.

So anyway, I hope this will give some readers a little idea that first-time sex for women can go well (and I think the reasons why it went well are not hard to pick out).

Well if I were to tell you the following three details you would probably be excused for thinking that I was a little bit of a sick puppy, you would be half right.

1) I was nine years old.

2) She was related to me.

3) It was up her bottom.

Before you scroll hastily for your downvote let me at least attempt to explain myself!

Yes, I was 9 years old and it was anal sex - I remember this because I laid my hands on one of those books that mothers give to their daughters at the onset of puberty, you know "Our Bodies Ourselves", one of those sorts of things after a class with Mrs Saunders (my teacher from the ages 8-9). I 'learnt' in the loosest possible sense of the word where babies came from and how it happens when a man puts his 'penis' in a womans 'vagina' (I had to get some help finding out what these words meant!). I recall that fear of impregnating my 'partner' lead me up the back passage (the fact that I was entirely incapable of producing semen hadn't occured to me however).

The fact that I had the MMO (means, motive and opportunity) to accomplish my far too young sexual act with a 'relative' was my parents fault.

Firstly I have to point out that my partner in crime was my step-sister (ie: no blood relation, so no danger of 15 fingered offspring) who was 5 months my senior and that the reason we came in such close proximity was that from the age of 6 I often had to sleep in the same bed as her at my step-mother and father's house.

The fact that my father was very bad at hiding his substantial collection of hard-core pornographic films coupled with our curious desire to find them led to an early (and somewhat disturbing) interest in matters of the flesh.

What had started a couple of years earlier as no more than a little bit of 'Doctor's and nurses' style fun had reached a rather more perverse level!

As we got a little older, the sleeping in the same bed stopped, but the sex continued as we progressed to full vaginal sex etc etc.

One night (I must have been 14 or so) it suddenly occured to me just how wrong it all was and I found myself unable to look my step-sister in the eye and went about 2 years without really speaking to her.

Shortly afterwards she moved away to live with her father and I breathed a sigh of relief. We get on OK now, and I'd probably laugh if it was brought up (no-one in the family knows obviously) - but it must have fucked me up a bit, mustn't it???

It was pouring outside, and we were drenched by the time we got there. My inhibitions were hazy by the drink and the marijuana, the incense was burning, and the candles were lit, the lights were off, and Bob Marley played from the stereo. I was 16 years old, my birthday only days before, and I had met him in a park that night after my high school boyfriend ditched me. He asked if I was okay with it all and sure I wanted to do what we were about to do, and he tried to make it perfect for me.

And it was. It hurt a little, maybe not too much because of the drugs in my system, and he did things to my body I never thought possible. The chills ran down my spine just by the way he would kiss my neck, and run his fingers very lightly down the insides of my arms. His long hair fell into my face and it smelled of strawberries, the little stubble on his chin tickled my skin.

The sun rose and woke up sleepily next to a man I didn't recognize, but it was okay. He made me breakfast in bed and asked if I was okay, and gave me a long hug as I said goodbye. He called me many times afterwards, but I refused to see or talk to him, and eventually told him never to call again. I had the perfect experience losing my virginity, and I didn't want to ruin the illusion of the perfect guy who I lost it with. Not all experiences are bad. Sometimes I wish my current ones would come at least a little close to that night.

My first time was a religious experience. Not in the sense that it was that great, but in the fact that I considered it to be a necessary ceremony. It was the first summer after my first period, the time that I should have my Rite of First Pleasures. For more information, read Jean M. Auel's The Valley of Horses.

I'd only known the guy for three days. He was the ex-boyfriend of my best friend's cousin, generally regarded as a slut. (Both the cousin and the ex-boyfriend, actually). My best friend and I lived in a fairly small suburb, and so did he. So we were walking past his house on Friday and decided to say hi.

He had a pool in the backyard, and we swam and flirted. Not too heavily, as I had never even french-kissed anyone at this point in my life. He invited us to come back Monday morning. She was actually asleep on the floor the whole time - or at least she pretended to be asleep.

The sex itself wasn't much. Foreplay (during which I lay there like a log because i was too afraid to do anything) wasn't bad. The point of penetration hurt some; more notable was the fact that I kept bleeding a little for long enough afterward that I wondered if it was that time of the month.

The thing is, I'd seen a movie called Casual Sex starring Victoria Jackson in which she said she'd never had sex without crying in the bathroom afterwards. I told myself I never wanted to do that. But then I found myself in his bathroom, crying. I left while he was in the shower, my best friend still asleep on his floor.

It was a year and a half before I had sex with anyone else, and that was a friend at a party. I've heard that he told people I wasn't very good because I just laid there, but really I just didn't know what to do. Other than that it didn't change our relationship. Maybe it was just because it was so much later, but it hurt then too, not as much but in the same way. So those of you anticipating your second times, don't worry if that hurts too.

I did him
like a chore,
our clumsy coupling drawing
an undulating line through another
of that summer’s essential ‘to dos” –
less disappointing than
Raging Bull,
but not in the same league
as Queen live at Wembley.

It's a pity I'd done "heartbreak"
the Christmas before,
without that, I'd have been
obligated, driven
to tumble into love;
I could have made
tragedy from history:
sadder, yet infinitely
more satisfying.

Still, there was added value:
the hangover,
the pregnancy scare
both well up to expectations --
a never-to-be-repeated package
three key experiences at a single
low, low price:
a little guilt,
a little fear
and the smallest patch of tarnish
on my silvered dreams.