Summer, Sex & 17
The first time I “did it”
“Wait, you’re a virgin?! Are you sure you want to do this?”. His body froze but his breath, laced heavily with Coors Light, continued to lap my face. At that moment, my 25-year-old boyfriend seemed legitimately shocked that his 17-year-old girlfriend, me, had never had sex. The room was dark, but the light forcing its way through the small gap of the shutters was enough to highlight the moral conflict briefly displayed on his stubbled face. Alcohol and primal desires quickly pushed any worries from his mind and he leaned down to kiss me, his rough hand clumsily heading back down my body.
Downstairs, my cousin was happily wrapped up on the couch with her soon-to-be lover. I thought of her face. It was the same face, which moments earlier had given me an urgent look that screamed “Quit being a loser!”, and had me choking down the last swallow of my warm beer before making my way upstairs to the master bedroom of the house I was sitting at.
The unfamiliar sound of foil crinkling and tearing tore my thoughts from my cousin and back to the situation that had always gone much more romantically in my daydreams. As I watched him fumble around with the condom, obviously still a little flustered and intoxicated, I realized I still hadn’t said anything. I started to panic a little.
“Let’s do it in the shower!” I blurted.
That had to be sexy and adventurous enough to keep a more experienced man interested, right? Honestly, I have no idea what I was thinking at the time, aside from the fact that I wanted to impress this older guy. He went silent for a moment, then hesitantly agreed and headed towards the bathroom. I gave myself a quick pep-talk and hopped out of bed to follow him.
This was no ordinary shower. Four gigantic glass walls surrounded blindingly white, perfectly positioned tile that put every bathroom makeover I’d seen on HGTV to shame. Man-made waterfalls poured out of two large, halo-shaped shower heads positioned to face each other. The bathroom itself was bigger than my bedroom at home and the bright lights seemed like they belonged in a stadium. Immediately, I began to regret my attempt at seeming sexy and spontaneous.
I looked in the mirror and quickly wrapped my arms around my stomach pudge, waiting for his cue on what to do. My faux confidence had wavered considerably after leaving the dark comforts of the bedroom. Nervously, I met his gaze for a moment, then he turned towards the shower. I inspected the masculine sharpness of his body as he opened the door, letting a blanket a steam roll out and swoop around me.
“Come on. What are you waiting for?” he asked.
He reached for my hand and pulled me into the shower. His body pressed my back onto the cold wall as his hardness collided with my stomach. Electricity surged through my nerves and a foreign ache from a place I never knew existed consumed me.
Suddenly, he grabbed my arms and turned me around. He nudged my legs apart from behind and grabbed me as he growled in my ear that what was about to happen might hurt. His hard dick poked around a few times before finally finding what it was looking for. As he eased into me slowly, I felt him shudder and inhale sharply.
The moment I had been waiting for and fearing for years was happening, and not in any way I had ever imagined it. So many emotions coursed through me. I was surprised and relieved that, although uncomfortable, sex was nowhere near as excruciating as I had expected and I didn’t bleed all over everything. A strange sense of validation came over me as well. I had never felt so attractive and wanted in my entire life.
Without warning, he decided to quit being careful and just let me have it. It didn’t feel good but it didn’t really feel bad either. Luckily for me, I started things off with a guy who I later found out was barely considered average. Despite the fact that I was in my head and not enjoying sex the way I do now, I decided everything was going well. Sadly, it was all short-lived.
“ARRGHH!!!!” he yelled as he ripped out of me and grabbed his leg.
Apparently, the angle we were “doing it” at in the shower caused him to have an out of this world charley horse. Go figure. I stood there awkwardly as he wriggled around all hunched over, not knowing what to do. After recovering, he told me that we had to leave the shower and go back to the bed.
The rest of the story isn’t that great. We got in bed and had damp missionary sex until he came. Afterwards, he rolled off of me, threw the condom away, and then laid back down and passed out without saying much. At the time, I thought he was mad at me for the shower incident so I hid under the blankets and text my cousin.
We only lasted for a month or so after that. The sex continued to be mediocre. I left for college and he was always so drunk during our relationship that we never made a true connection.
While many aspects of the situation were not okay, it’s only as I’ve aged that I have realized so many actions of his were responses to pain and I was a young, naive girl who simply didn’t understand.
I didn’t understand that he was throwing red flag after red flag at me.
I didn’t understand the sex and liquor were tiny bandages slapped on the big gaping wound life had given him.
I didn’t understand that normal 25-year-old men don’t go after high schoolers.
I didn’t understand any of it.
Despite all of that, when I think back to the summer I was 17 I am not sad or upset. Sometimes rather, I am overcome by nostalgia and it makes me chuckle to think of the way I looked at the world back then. Everything was fresh and exciting and I couldn’t wait to experience it all. I’m thankful for each and every moment that’s shaped my life.
Even the terrible charley horse shower sex.
