We laid next to each other side by side, my back being pressed firmly against his chest. The television was on, and my family was fast asleep. The sky was dark blue. I was sixteen years old and we were all alone.
I could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of my head and the nape of my neck, while his fingers navigated through a sea of long, dirty blonde hair. There was so much tension between our bodies, but I wasn't ready. He kissed me like he always did, and I turned away, trying to focus on anything but him and what I knew was on his mind. His calm voice penetrated my eardrums, "if we don't do it now, we never will... don't you want to do this with your first love?" I did want to. "But this isn't the right moment..." I said. "I guess we're just not going to do it then." He told me. My young mind raced.
When I was eleven years old, I promised myself that I wouldn't have sex until I was at least sixteen years old... and after that, I had to be in love. There I was, sixteen years old and as crazy as could be about this boy. I really did love him. "Okay, I want to..." I confessed to him hesitantly. If I'm going to lose my virginity to someone, it might as well be him. I slowly pulled my pants down to my ankles, we never bothered to completely take them off. He unzipped his jeans, pulled down his boxers, and tightly grabbed ahold of my nervous body. We arranged ourselves in a way that wouldn't make much noise and didn't require a lot of movement... then he pressed himself into me. "I can't believe this is happening," i thought.
Instant regret. It didn't hurt so much, it was more shocking than anything. I thought it was supposed to feel good? Am I bleeding? Am I supposed to be doing something? He was inside of me for just seconds before he removed himself and said "thats good enough for now...we don't want to get caught."
And it was over.