A Forgettable First

The first time I was fucked I was 16, and lying about my age to a college senior. I wanted it, and I was going to get it. That was my attitude when I went into the situation. It wasn't my attitude when I left his apartment, but my impetuous and hormone ravaged body was desperate to know what sex was. I was nervous, excited, afraid, but thinking I had no reason to be afraid of something so many people loved.

I cruised. I tried to find a semi-decent gay dating website. This was not the one-and-done situation. I wanted my "first time" with a guy to be special. I wanted to at least know the guy's name. His name was Schuyler. He was a horrible choice. He was skinny, awkward, uncomfortable, horny, lonely, and desperate. We first met in a Borders bookstore by the Stephen King novels. I first saw him and knew it would be a mistake to say hi, to continue the contact. I walked away, down the aisle of books, and regretted even coming to the store to begin with. The idea was foolish. The guy was a loser. I was an idiot.

But my conscience interrupted with ideas of "feelings." What about his feelings? How shitty will he feel when he realizes I didn't show up? How douchey will I look? Why don't I at least say hi? Can't I always cut it off if he sucks? Can't I just make excuses until he gets the picture?

My conscience won. I walked back and said, "Hello." He was startled. He was pleased. He liked how cute I was. We talked. We walked around the store. We sat. We drank coffee. He immediately invited me to have some ice cream with his "fag hag" right then and there. He said she would love to meet me. I rebuffed his advance to become closer. I wasn't comfortable with him yet. He insisted. He kept insisting. He told me how much fun it would be, how great his friend was, how much he liked me, how cute he thought I was.

I still refused. I didn't like him. He was too affectionate. Too adulatory. Too encouraging. Too close too soon. Had I had a relationship, or any significant dating experience before this encounter, I would have responded to all of my personal warning signals. I was prescient enough to halt our relationship that much that early on.

I was not smart enough to cut it off altogether. It was refreshing, for the first time, to have someone to give affection to me, to tell me I was sexy, a word he barely whispered, a word that immediately turned me on. We met, and continued to meet. He must have known I wasn't 18. he was 22 himself. I was 16, trying to pass as 18. He kept asking. "How can you really be 18?"

"Do you want to examine my ID?" I would always respond. I would throw it back in his face, but he would always be too shy to actually look. I wonder if he was afraid to realize what he actually thought would be confirmed by my recently issued Driver's License. It was no matter. He never actually looked. He supposed, but never investigated. And then I asked him to fuck me.

It had been building in me for weeks. Ever since I met him I knew I would ask him to fuck me. I would use him. I would hate him, and I would use his dick for experience, and I would leave him immediately afterward. That's what I did.

It was our fourth night hanging out together. We had ordered pizza in, and after it came and we had eaten, we started spooning while watching some horrible gay drama he illegally downloaded off the internet. I was the big spoon. I started kissing his neck, and licking his ear. He rolled around and began kissing me. And as abruptly as we started I stopped and asked him to fuck me.

He didn't want to, but the opportunity presented itself so he agreed. I took off my clothes as matter-of-factly as I could considering the situation, while he threw off everything he was wearing and bounded for the condoms and lube. He was slow and gentle. I think he cared for me. I think he wanted me to enjoy it. He told me it would hurt, and I had read enough by that point to know. I didn't know how it woudl hurt, and when his cockhead started to penetrate my asshole, I understood how painful it could be. I screamed. He stopped, immediately retreated. But I told him to go on. At that point, I only wanted him to get it in.

I kept encouraging him through grunts and cringes. He knew I wasn't enjoying it, but he wanted to fuck me as much as I wanted it, and with a raging hardon, it's hard not to say no to an inviting ass. After what seemed like hours, his cock was in my ass to the base. Once he made it in, I begged him to take it out. I knew I couldn't take an actual fuck. He understood. He seemed almost happy. He seemed genuinely concerned for my feelings. He said we'd use some dildos and practice stretching before we tried again.

He kept using the word we. I knew we weren't a "we" and I felt embarrassed. I walked away. I put my clothes on and said I needed to go, needed to think about this. He wanted to follow me, but he didn't go beyond his stoop. I just walked away and never looked back.

I almost cried on the drive home. Ben Folds was playing when I got in the car. I started crying on the way home, and detoured around the city until I stopped. I got a soda from McDonald's and drove until I wasn't thinking about Schuyler anymore. I drove until I emptied my mind as much as I could. I focused on the pain in my ass. I concentrated on the road. It flowed down the earth, as uninterrupted as the pain, but smooth. The pain shot and throbbed. It jolted and eased. It ebbed in my body. As much as I thought about it, I thought about Radiohead and Schindler's List more.

I got home and I deleted the gay dating site profile I created to find Schuyler. I delete any knowledge of him. I avoided all places he might go. I moved on. After Schuyler, I knew I could fuck anyone I wanted with no emotion. And I did. Throughout my senior year of high school I was a closeted slut.

Does a first fuck really need to be emotional? Important? I realize Schuyler is really important to my carnal knowledge history, but beyond that, I don't care for him or about him? How much does a gay man care for his first? Or, am I an anomaly? Am I a stranger amongst strangers?

NOTE: I've gotten a lot of really great feedback from a lot of people in different ways, and I think it would be really great for people to discuss these issues and topics in a forum. I know the comments section of this blog isn't great, but it's a place to start.

So, my question for you: What was your first time having sex like (either as a bottom or a top)? How important is that person to you now?