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 Posted: Sun Mar 04, 2007 1:34 pm
my first time was wonderful, suprisinlg painless. Me and my bf have always veen rather "intimate" wink but the thing is, we didn't use contraception, and we actually had unprotected sex for about 2 months redface but when i started getting paranoid, i took the pill (my bf was very supportive) and then we ALWAYS used condoms. Once one spilt and i had to take it again, now we're extra careful, and that experience has ALWAYS scared me into eing careful, but we still have mind-blowing sex, and it neva gets boring. My bf isnt a pressurizing person or anything, we were both v sexually fustrated before me got together so . . . it kinda happened. Even though it was unprotected, it was so, GREAT, I'd neva giv up wat i have with my bf.
USE PROTECTION. It'll save your life.
xXx
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Posted: Tue Mar 06, 2007 3:13 pm
My first time having sex...it was totally painless and smoothy.
My boyfriend was talking about it now and then,normal for him, mister have been deflowered(if i can use that term for a guy) by his first girlfriend. Me i was his 4th so yea,he did alot of things with the previous ones but i didn't wanted him to push me,cause i was a total virgin at that time.I told him that the day i would wear a skirt,it would be a signal XD So yea,a couple of weeks after,as he was on his way to my house,i decided i was ready, put on the one and only skirt i had ((my first thought was to actually look cute for him,had totally forgot about what i had said)) and later on the evening it happened.
Since he went slowly and always waited for me to tell him to continue forward,it was really cool,i think that's the secret for anyone's first time having sex 3nodding
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Posted: Sat Mar 17, 2007 4:56 pm
One of the funnier yet more embarassing times was when my fiancee and I weren't going to see each other for a while because he was moving in with his dad. His dad and i weren't very fond in the beginning and I didn't have my license yet. Anyway, we start to undress and because it was mid august, I had a bathing suit on underneath. Just as I crawl onto him with just my suit on, his mom walks through the door. I just sat up (on top of her son) and said hi and tried to blurt out a lame excuse that I can't remember. She just laughed and smiled at me and told me not to worry. Needless to say he made fun of me for weeks.
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2007 1:13 pm
My first time was on February 26
I had known my boyfriend for about a year,
And we just started dating.
The second day he was having a huge house party.
Everyone got totally wasted.
We went downstairs and started making out.
One thing led to another and he whipped out a condom.
We did it for maybe 5-10 min?
But it hurt so much, i asked him to stop...
When he pulled himself out.
He had no condom on sweatdrop
and i was freaking out until recently because i thought i was pregnant.
I dumped him for doing that to me...
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Posted: Thu Mar 22, 2007 7:22 am
Ninja.rose My first time was on February 26
I had known my boyfriend for about a year,
And we just started dating.
The second day he was having a huge house party.
Everyone got totally wasted.
We went downstairs and started making out.
One thing led to another and he whipped out a condom.
We did it for maybe 5-10 min?
But it hurt so much, i asked him to stop...
When he pulled himself out.
He had no condom on sweatdrop
and i was freaking out until recently because i thought i was pregnant.
I dumped him for doing that to me... Was the condom left inside, or did he just not have one on at all? 'Cause if he said he did and didn't, that's a dumpable offence, but just not being careful about pulling it out wouldn't be so bad. Guess it depends how much you liked him.
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Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2007 8:51 pm
im a virgin....but i'm only 14..
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Posted: Sun Apr 01, 2007 10:55 pm
My First Kiss.
My first kiss was with a guy named Vincent. Awesome name, I know. We met over eSpin the Bottle, a teen dating site. He lived about 10 minutes away from me. We talked on the phone for hours, like we were best friends. He told me he loved me within the first three days. I was like "Sure, why not. I haven't had a boyfriend in a long time." So we went out.
I lied to my mom and told her I was going to the park with Michelle, my best friend. Well technically I did. We just met Vincent there too.
So Michelle deemed him worthy and Vincent and I just sat there cuddling, him pulling me to him and I trying to sit up straight, which he wouldn't let me do.
When Mich's mom came to take us to her house, Vincent asked if I would kiss him. I was too nervous. I had never kissed anyone -- well, in love -- before. I told him I wasn't ready.
As I walked to the car, I thought about it. I ran back to him, and behind one of the poles that were the gate of the park I kissed him. Not long, not really romantically-- but I did. And I blushed and told him I'm sorry I wasn't good at it.
I remembered the feeling on my lips for a long time.
Then he broke up with me a few weeks later telling me I was rebound and he never really liked me anyway, got together with the girl who he had previously been together with (and loved the entire time we were together), but then he broke up with her because she got pregnant. By the way, she lived in California, and we lived in Tennesseee... so there was no chance it was his kid.
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Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2007 11:54 am
My first time (2/24) I was at my bf's grandmother's house and i had just taken a shower and i forgot to bring my clothes into the bathroom with me. so i asked my bf to grab them for me but he took them and put them on and said that if I wanted them I had to go take them off of him. so i went out and took my clothes off of him but then he ripped my towel off me and we started kissing. then he asked "can i?" and i was like yes! now every time i see his grandmother i cant help but smile and giggle a little. whee
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Posted: Tue Apr 10, 2007 2:55 pm
Tanaka Yuko I get erections in like 4 out of 6 classes =(
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Posted: Tue Apr 10, 2007 5:29 pm
I have forever told myself that I would never give a guy a blow job even if I had a gun stuck to my head and my life depended on it. Well I got drunk one night and gave an 18 yr old guy head(I am only 15 and he is staying at my house and is totally off limits). It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be and I will maybe one day do it again. Here is the story well what I can remember of it anyways. We were watching a movie and my dad was on a date my sister in her bedroom down the hall so I moved my pillow on top of him. He started to play with my hands and kissing me. I loved it then he whipped out his d**k. I was like what do you want me to do with that. He said suck it. I told him no way. He said ok you don't have to if you don't want to so he pulled away from me. WHen I am drunk I get really messed up and will do the first guy around and him pulling away just made me want him so bad so then I sucked his d**k. He said let's go in the bathroom so then we went in the bathroom and my sister came walking down the hall. It was so close we were almost caught.
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Posted: Wed Apr 11, 2007 3:57 am
I am 17 years old, never had sex, and I don't plan to until I get married. Having sex can be great, but that brings lot's of thoughts and responsabilities. No matter if you use protection or not...there is always a "what if...", I just prefer to leave my mind with a problem less. I think sex (penetration) would be the big prize with marriage (without missing the "Until death break us apart"). There are a lot of other things that I can share with the one I love without getting near to the risk of a sickness, of getting pregnant and many others.
I don't say that pre-marital sex is wrong. Don't get me wrong. If a nice time comes and I'm ready and protected, it could happen before. I will try to hold it.
My boyfriend is 21 and he thinks the same way I do, so it's a good thing we share this, we never presure each other with any sexual thing, and we still have lot's of fun and exitement.
We are both virgins and we're not planing to change that, at least not for a few more years.
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Posted: Sun Apr 22, 2007 3:46 am
My First Kiss:-
Like most people do I was really nervous about my first kiss - I guess I just got lucky when it was sorta totally unexpected!
I think I was in like year 9, so that would've made me about 13? I'd been going out with this guy Mat for about 3 months and we had lots of fun together. He was sorta the first real boyfriend I had had in highschool so it was really exciting. Anyways, I think we were in the music room at school and we were just messing around, I was sat next to him on this tiny chair so we were pretty close and he was playing around with some drumsticks. And me being the cheeky little thing I am, stole them.
Anyway, we were flirting and playing around and he was like 'Give me them baaaaaack', and I said 'for the price of one kiss!' (at the time it was a quote from a tv show or something people watched) And so he said 'come here then'. (Me = eek eek eek )
So I go over, hand him the drumsticks back and somehow worm my way out of the kiss xD, I think I must've made a joke or something or started talking to one of our other friends that were in there. He had his arm around me and stuff so it was all cool. Then one of the guys that was in there just goes 'Hey, I haven't seen you guys kiss yet!' And Mat just looked at me in a way that kinda said 'yeah he's a jerk but we haven't actually done that yet, but its cool' kinda way... xD
But this guy kept going on and said 'Go on, do it!'... So I thought screw this, I'm not gonna stay afraid my whole life and Mat pulled me towards him and it sorta just happened. It wasn't with tongues or anything and it didn't last more than a couple of seconds but hell it still gave me major butterflies! All the worries I had had about it prior to that just dissipated and I've been totally in love with kissing ever since!
HeeHee, talk about a trip down memory lane... whee
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Posted: Sun Apr 22, 2007 11:08 am
First Kiss
It was a few months into our relationship, and i had been nervous about going ahead and kissing him again. So i wore a skirt, tank top and my gray sweater and went to school. I even had heels on and it made him look at me different. I took this as a compliment, but i was still blushing. At lunch we sat on the little benches we had and relaxed. I was kinda cold so i told him to hug me, and low and behold...we kissed.
So after that i kissed him more. and I ended up on his lap, making out in plain view of many students. (luckly no teachers)
By the end of it..hicky
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2007 2:56 pm
I dont know if this is necessary but i found this story, forgot where but if you would like to read it go on ahead
________________________________________________________________
“I like to watch,” my girlfriend Elle said and stuck her chin up and out like she always does when she feels like she wants to challenge me or flirt with me or both.
“I’d like to watch you with another man,” she said to me her chin still up, her eyes going all sparkly. We were, I recall, making a late breakfast. Elle held a cantaloupe in her hand. I held a mug of coffee in mine. Elle’s chin jutting and her assertion, “I’d like to watch”; that was how it started.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t been with a guy before; it was just that I hadn’t been with one recently. Elle knew my history—the late nights of heavy drinking and minor drugging with my college theatre group that would inevitably devolve into the splintering couples of various configurations and sexes, each of us pairing—or sometimes tripling— with another and traipsing off all tipply into the night.
She knew that I’d been manhandled, that I’d done some manhandling, and that I liked it. She knew too that I hadn’t done it in a long time, not since leaving university and getting this straight job and this straight life and this straight relationship.
It wasn’t like I’d missed it—the scruff of beard, the rough of lips, the hard body, the hard c**k—it wasn’t like I’d missed it. But when Elle lifted her chin and said something, I realized it wasn’t like I hadn’t missed it either.
The odd thing is this: as easily as the idea got planted by Elle, it was harder than I’d expected to find a guy. My college theatre group had grown up, gone straight and narrow—or gay and narrow—gone some way or another, just as I had. Plus, even with the ones I still talked to, the dynamic was gone, that glamour of youth had lifted and the Puckish magic that made it possible for us to shift shapes had drifted like a dream.
I realized that it would have to be a stranger, then; it would have to be a strange man who I’d ********. And that felt weird to me. I’d always only been with men I’d known, guys who were mates well before we’d mated. Guys whose girlfriends I knew, whose voices were already familiar. I knew what their apartments looked like, what kind of underwear they favored. I’d crashed on their couches long before I’d ever ******** them in their messy college flats, trying to keep from banging furniture and waking roommates.
I’d never ******** a guy I didn’t know before. I don’t think I would have done it without Elle whispering sweet naughty nothings in my ear.
“I want to watch your face as you come with your c**k down another man’s throat,” she said, gutter-talking below me, her hands on my hips, pulling them faster and harder toward her wide-spread thighs, my c**k sliding in and out of her p***y.
“I want to see you ******** a man like this,” she’d say over her shoulder to me, her black hair pooling on her white shoulders like dark water.
“What about that guy?” she’d ask, pointing across the bar to a whip-skinny hipster in an ironic tee-shirt. “Too thin?” Elle would ask. “Then how about that one?” she said and pointed to a slightly grizzled Goldfinger-era Sean Connery type.
At Elle’s urging I started to see the world as a walking man buffet. Some of that, please, that slick Asian in the minimalist designer suit. Some of that, that man-sweaty construction worker with the tight shirt and loose jeans. I found I’d be standing in a market queue and I’d be undressing the man ahead of me. I’d see his a** naked; I’d see his c**k spring free of his jeans; I’d see it go boing! and I’d feel its live weight in my hands.
I wanted him, whoever he happened to be. I just couldn’t seem to meet him.
I signed up for an dating services. I’d put up a profile and then I’d taken it down. I’d post pictures that Elle took of me: one showed my chest, mostly denuded of hair and slim with my swimmer’s muscles. Another of my c**k tenting my boxers. Another of me lying prone on my sex-rumpled bed, my a** gleaming white against the sheets. All of them struck me as simultaneously goofy and hot. I tried to resist the narcissist song, but I had to admit when I looked at them that I’d ******** me.
Like my profiles, I’d post the pictures and take them down. I just couldn’t commit to the hot-and-cold running desperation-slash-excitation of the online dating thing. Elle would ask me if I saw anyone I’d liked, if I’d emailed, chatted, something. I looked, I told her, but I couldn’t. Online dating wasn’t for me.
But Elle’s urging, and her susurrations all demon-like in my ear while we were ******** in my big white bed, drove me. To be honest, I hadn’t realized I’d wanted to ******** a man until Elle gave me the permission to want it. And with all of her gentle orgasmic urging, my imagination was in overdrive. Which is exactly as Elle wanted it.
“I want to see your hand like this,” she whispered and gazed at her own hand wrapped tight around the shaft of my c**k. “I want to see your mouth like this,” she said and took the tip of my c**k between her opened lips.
I considered going to a gay bar. I’d been, of course, with friends—I like the energy of gay bars. Sticky with alcohol and sex, they’re practically humming with testosterone. I considered going to one not as a tourist but as a trepidacious native. I walked the street in front of one, and I found I could not enter.
And still…Elle’s voice, her slender-fingered hands on my c**k, my image in the mirror obscuring her body, her voice hushed and husky h in my ear behind me. “Imagine my hands were rough,” she said, “imagine you could feel my c**k pressing into your back.” I did, I could.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she asked.
Yes, I said,.
Then, just when I felt myself caught between the Scylla of my desire and the Charybdis of my reluctance, I met Guy, or to be more strictly correct, Guy met me.
It was at a party, a gathering, a work affair. Guy didn’t work with me—he was a peripheral client. The advertising company I wrote for had some celebration for some big account and there was Brazilian barbeque and there were free-flowing mojitos and there was Guy.
He was a few years younger than I, very cool in his expensive jeans and jacket. He had creative facial hair and a top-of-the-line PDA that kept buzzing, ignored, in his pocket. He looked at ease. Me, I’m equally uncomfortable in a group and alone. Not Guy. He was confident.
Somehow we ended up talking, somehow we had a lot in common. Somehow I kept on looking at his tongue when he laughed. He had this habit of sticking it out between this teeth just as his eyes slitted with laughter. Somehow we exchanged numbers.
Somehow, it escaped me until I told Elle about it later that Guy was hitting on me.
The sound of his voice stayed with me, so did the vision of his triangular tongue between his full lips. When Elle, her saliva-slick finger circling the “O” of my a**s, asked me how I’d like to feel a man’s c**k, I thought of Guy, his pointy tongue, his pervert’s mouth, his expensive jeans, and said I’d like that very much.
Why, you might ask, would it surprise me that Guy texted me about a week later? Why, you might ask, what with all of my mind’s man-made fantasies, and all of the very twinkly conversation bouncing between me and Guy that night at the company party, why would I be surprised that I was meeting him for a drink one evening?
Why, you might ask, given the months of preparation and conversation and half-hearted but full-cocked plotting, would I be surprised that it actually happened? That I invited Guy to my apartment. That Guy accepted my invitation. That when he entered the door, Elle hid comfortable on a chair behind the slatted doors of my closet. That Guy took my hand in his when I gave him his second glass of scotch.
That Guy pulled my face close to his with his free hand and pressed his pervert’s mouth on mine. That we abandoned our glasses full of scotch and that we entered my bedroom together. Why, you might ask, would I be surprised?
Because I always am when I get what I want. I lack Guy’s—and Elle’s—unshakeable confidence.
I wanted it, and I hoped for it, but I was still surprised when Guy, his mouth still on mine, started peeling my tee-shirt from my body. “I have a girlfriend,” I said to him between kisses.
“I know,” said Guy. “I asked.” He palmed the back of my head, prised my mouth open under his mouth and swirled his pointy tongue against mine.
His scruff caught in mine. His smell mirrored mine. His c**k strained against his jeans, as mine pressed for release against mine. His hands ran up and down my body, feeling my flesh, as mine groped his. It all returned, that feeling of a man—that hard and sinewy verisimilitude, that sharp musk, that same but different.
Guy stopped and pulled away. He looked at me, unbuckled his belt, popped one button after the next on his jeans, kicked off his loafers, and let his jeans fall into a puddle on the floor.
“Your turn,” he said, stepping naked and glorious as Michelangelo’s David out of his puddled overpriced jeans.
I untied the drawstring of my linen pants, unzipped, and let them and my boxers drop to the floor. My hard c**k curved up toward my navel. Just a couple of feet away from me, I could see that Guy’s did too.
Guy ran a finger across my abdomen, turned away and laid himself on the bed so that his head dropped off the edge. I looked at him, his face upside down; we laughed. He told me to come closer. I did what he told me to.
You know, the weird thing was that it didn’t feel weird. I mean, it did and it didn’t. Because, let’s fact it, it was weird. There I was naked with my first man in over a decade, my girlfriend of a couple of years hiding in the closet watching us, and my c**k quivering at this guy I’d met at a company party just a week or so ago. Weird. And yet not.
Guy reached out his hand; he took me by the head of my c**k; he pulled me closer, and he put the head of my c**k in his mouth. His mouth felt like a man’s—something about the pressure or the lips—I don’t know what it is, exactly, but a man’s mouth is never like a woman’s mouth. But a mouth is a mouth, so maybe it was just that I could see his body lean, almond-colored and masculine, laid out on my bed. His pecs jumping under his thin skin as he reached up both hands to guide my c**k more deeply into his throat. His c**k a bit thicker than mine pointing up towards me, tempting me.
I could feel that Guy’s head was completely off the bed, his hair brushing against my thighs, my c**k deeply down his throat, my knees bent with the pleasure and the angle. It felt good, but how could I not feel like I was performing? Guy had unwittingly lined us up perfectly parallel to the closet where Elle was hiding. It was all I could do not to look at those nearly closed slatted doors; it was all I could do not to strain to hear Elle’s rustle over the slurping of Guy’s mouth on my c**k.
The weirdness of the tableau, can you see it? My girlfriend seated in the closet, this strange and beautiful man on my bed, my c**k down his throat, my secret awareness, and the exquisite pleasure of it all.
It kind of hit me, and sooner than I wanted, I felt that yearning burning of coming start to shoot from my balls up through my c**k, but I didn’t want it, not yet. I pulled my c**k out of Guy’s open throat with an audible pop! and bent forward. One hand on either side of Guy’s hips, I lowered my lips to his c**k.
A tiny drop of pre-come stood beaded on its tip, and I licked it up. I swirled my tongue around the pulsing tip. I suckled on its velvet hardness, savored its mouthfeel, the porpoise-boiled-egg springy resiliency, the tiny pucker of rough skin below the head, the tiny-baby-bird mouth of its slit at the top. I let Guy’s wide c**k slide into my mouth slowly and deliciously, taking it a millimeter at a time into my mouth like it was some delicate comestible. Fine chocolate. Truffles. Foie gras.
All the time, I knew that Elle was watching.
I heard Guy breathing and moaning behind me. I felt his hips writhing against my mouth. I felt him take my a** in his hands, and I felt him pull my c**k into his mouth. His mouth on my c**k felt like mine on his, his c**k in my mouth felt like mine in his. His crazy-keening burn rolling up his c**k from balls to tip was like mine. His hips pushing up toward my mouth pushed like mine. I felt Guy’s balls press high and tight into my nose, and this vertiginous circular pleasure rolled over me.
A hand on my mouth pulled me off Guy’s c**k. “Stop,” he said, “or I’m going to come.” He pushed me off him and rolled over on the bed. He reached up and took my hand and spit into it, a long pearly strand of blow-job saliva. Splayed on the bed, he put my spit-covered hand on his c**k. I rubbed the tip.
Guy spit in his hand and rubbed my c**k’s tip. I kneeled above him, Guy below me, one of his legs between mine, one of my knees between his legs, each of us with a c**k in our hand, the closet doors, slightly ajar and hiding my girlfriend as in a French farce, right in front of me.
I paused, turned and grabbed a bottle of lube from the table next to my bed. I squirted some into Guy’s hand and some into my own. Squirt. Squirt. Two hands. Two cocks, twins, hard and pressing against one another.
His hand felt like my hand, but not. It felt strong and hard, and it rubbed knowlingly, pausing and pressing, holding and pulling, drawing my c**k away from my body at a pleasant angle. His c**k in my hand felt like mine and it didn’t. I tried to listen to his breathing, to get his eyes to narrow in pleasure, to bring him closer to off.
Guy’s other hand rose to cup my balls, one finger pressed against my a*****e, insinuating itself gently into my a**, burrowing. As I rubbed his c**k faster and harder, I lost myself, lost the closet doors, lost the watching Elle, lost it all as I pushed myself onto Guy’s finger. I lost myself in his capable hands. I lost it, lost it all, lost it to pleasure, lost myself and lost control, lost in the swell and break of the pump-pump-pump of my pulse and the keening burn up and out of my c**k.
Lost, I covered Guy’s belly with a white baker’s glaze of come. And Guy, watching me come, feeling my c**k contract under his hands and my a*****e around his finger, watching and feeling me come, came too, so as my orgasm’s meteoric rise subsided, his crescendoed. Like two well-timed fountains we came, first me and then him, shooting twin white streams of come.
And then, what? We kissed. I got a towel. We joked, said something banal. He dressed. I saw him to the door. We said we’d do it again. Post-coital platitudes. Hail, fellow, well met, that kind of thing.
The door shut behind Guy. In the narrow hall, I turned, and there was Elle, eyes blazing, face luminous, naked and white. She palmed my quiet c**k, restive under my drawstring pants, and she said feverishly, “******** me now.”
How could I not? She was hot, wet-hot and waiting. She had been waiting for this, she said. She had wanted this, she said, she had thought of it. She had dreamt of it, ******** me after I had been ********. She said she’d sat in the closet, her hand in her p***y, and she had watched. She had come, she said, she hoped she had been quiet.
I assured her she had been. She untied my pants, she slid them to the floor, she fumbled feverish.
She held my c**k and she kissed my neck, biting it. She slipped her hands, more delicate than I’d ever remembered them feeling, around and under my c**k;she tugged at my balls and she pulled at my c**k and I felt it get hard.
“You were so ******** beautiful,” she said in my ear and she pulled me against her, flattening her back against the wall. Elle slid down the wall, her hands holding me like the clenched fingers of a drowning person. We fell to the floor.
She told me to ******** her. What choice did I have? What choice did I want? I slid my c**k into her p***y like a hot knife into ice cream. I could feel her in, under and around me. She felt impossibly wet, impossibly swollen, impossibly open.
Elle’s hands gripped my hips, the same spot that Guy had touched just a little while ago. Her hands urged me on. Faster, her hands said, harder. More. The floor hard below my knees, Elle was soft under my body. Her hips rose to meet mine, again, again, more, and harder.
I could hear her begin to keen, that low mongrel-song that announced her coming. Her fingers dug into my a** with her urgency; she was below me, but she was ******** me, her hips bucking, hungry below ******** me, ******** me, ******** me, ******** me,” Elle intoned aimlessly in my ear, and so I did. She opened around me, she flowered, she flowed, she burst and she sang a long string of meaningless vowels into the echoing hallway.
And in her song, I joined, letting loose as I could with someone I knew, someone I loved, someone who was different from me, but someone with whom I could share so much.
It’s a gift she gave me, you see. She knew what I wanted. She put a word to it, and she gave me permission. I thought I was doing it for her, that sloppy seduction of Guy. But I was doing it for me, you know what I mean?
So that’s the backstory, how Elle and I started experimenting, how we really came to know each other. It began with Guy. Yes, Guy was the first.
And you? Are you interested?
Would you like to be next?
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Posted: Mon May 07, 2007 5:11 pm
I had my first orgasm when I was 11, that was like 5 1/2 years ago. And to this day I'm still a virgin and have never had my first kiss emo
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