84. Losing It

A lot of girls grow up with this vision of what it's going to be like to lose their virginity: After a year of withholding, they finally lose it to the man of their dreams, with candlelight to bounce their shadows against the walls and slow playing music to keep rhythm to. Oh, and of course it would end in joint mind-blowing orgasms, with both of them finishing at the same time.

I was never one of those girls.

I wasn't a wait-for-marriage kind of girl, either. I mean, really, would you buy a pair of shoes without trying them on first? That just seemed silly. I wasn't waiting for "The One." I wasn't expecting my first time to start with an appetizer of chocolate-covered fruit or chocolate-covered body parts.

I only had two requirements: I wanted it to be someone I cared about, and I wanted to have no regrets. Oh, and I wasn't going to share. So I cared about Casey, but I'd have to share him. I didn't so much care about sexy Dane, but that's probably because I didn't know anything about him beyond how to get him off without my hands.

Before Will, no one met all three requirements. And surprisingly, none of the guys I messed around with before meeting Will pressured me about having sex. I suppose I got lucky, in that sense. Part of that was probably because some guys are scared to death of virgins. You know, the whole Stage 5 Clinger bit. Sure, I was always the only virgin in the room, so my friends liked to give me crap about that every now and then. But I'd always win when it came to "Never Have I Ever."

So when Will and I finally did have sex, there was no music, no candlelight. We were in my bed, and we both had class the next morning. For some reason, I knew this time the foreplay was going to lead to something. This time I was going to lose it. To my best friend.

He was hovering over me and my legs were shaking. The condom looked like it was cutting of his circulation, and it almost made me giggle. He looked into my eyes and asked, "Are you OK?" That was Will, always making sure everyone was comfortable. Had I told him, "No! Just kidding! Mission abort!" he wouldn't have complained. Anything to make me comfortable.

But instead I met his eyes and nodded. "Go slow."

As gentle as he could, he started to push himself inside of me. Slow and steady.

I grabbed his arms on either side of my head and winced. "Wait."

He stopped without asking. My legs were still shaking and my fingertips were turing white from gripping him so hard. His face filled with concern.

"It's OK. Just give me a second. It hurts, but I'm sure I'll adjust."

I tried to calm down so my body would relax. I took a few deep breaths and begged my legs to stop shaking. I loosened the grip on his arms and the feeling came back to my fingers. I thought about Will and how much he cared about me. My legs slowed to a tremble. Will leaned down and kissed me. My body was still. He put one hand on the side of my face and pulled back from the kiss. He looked me in the eye and I nodded.

He pushed in a little farther and I winced again and he stopped. I lifted my head off my pillow and met his lips with mine. I concentrated on his kiss, his lips, his tongue, while he slowly eased himself in. I trailed my hands down his sides and gripped his hips.

He broke the kiss and said, "You good?"

Then I realized he was all the way in. It hurt, but when I relaxed the pain gave way to a slight discomfort. I felt full. I know that's a weird way of describing it, but that's what I was thinking at that time.

Slowly in, slowly out. While I was kissing him he couldn't see me wince. If he saw me wince, he'd stop. I didn't want him to stop. So I kept kissing him and concentrating on how perfect his lips felt on mine, how smooth his skin was under my hands. The more I thought about that, the less it hurt.

Faster in, faster out. He had a good rhythm going, but he had to break the kiss to give his arms a break from the constant push up. I closed my eyes and concentrated on keeping my face wince-free. I started to wonder if everyone's first time was like that, or if it was my curse for liking black guys. I decided on the latter, otherwise why would anyone ever do it again?

Suddenly I felt his body pulse. His muscles tensed, but his body went completely still above me. I watched his face as he got off. Call me crazy, but I love watching a guys face in this moment because he has absolutely no control. He's completely vulnerable and completely lost in the moment. Then he collapsed on top of me and our sweaty bodies slide against each other while we breathed together.

I didn't get off, but I knew I wouldn't. He rolled off of me and let his hand slide down my stomach. He wanted to even the score. I grabbed his hand.

"No. That's in Time Out for a week."

A good friend of mine once described what it was like when she lost her virginity, and I'll never forget her words:

"Well, you know when you accidently stick the Q-tip too far in your ear? It was like doing that over and over again."

Couldn't have said it better myself. But I'm glad I can say no regrets.