Naked Truth

Note: Here’s the story about how I lost my virginity, you Tumblerererers have been asking so much about. I cannot be held accountable for how unsexy it is. I was a virgin, remember?

It was my first year of college, I had just turned 19, and Halloween festivities were in the air. My roommate had a friend, D, who had his own apartment off campus, and since we couldn’t drink in our dorm we decided to go to his place.

I slipped on my black, thigh high stockings and grey pleated skirt. I didn’t bother buttoning my white oxford blouse and instead tied it up à la Britney Spears, so my red lace bra was nearly entirely visible. I stepped into my red patent leather heels and spritz every inch of myself with vanilla-scented perfume before I donned a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

My friends and I decided to pregame a bit before leaving, mostly because we didn’t want to walk around in our heels totally sober.

I was feeling pretty good when we finally left our building. Skin was flooding the streets and there wasn’t a single sober person. The walk to D’s place was a bit long but once we got there we were greeted with a beer pong table and a round of shots.

I had met D the night before and we had flirted a bit. He was sweet, shy, and attractive in a non-conventional way. He was dressed up as a football player, which didn’t suit his body type at all. I thought he was cute and went over to join him by the kitchen counter.

“I like your costume,” he said. “Especially the glasses.”

Thanks.

Without wasting a single moment, he slipped my glasses off, grabbed me by the waist and kissed me. I took a fistful of his jersey and pulled him closer to me as he took up my leg. Liquid courage had kicked in and I felt daring and uncontrollably horny. He lifted me onto the counter, spread my legs and kept kissing me.

We finally made our way to his room.

I clumsily fell onto his bed, slipped my skirt off and kicked off my heels. He fell on top of me while I struggled to take my panties off. The room was dark and our breath smelled of vodka. The party was loud outside and we hadn’t even locked the door. Next thing I know he’s thrusting. I had no idea what was happening. This wasn’t what I wanted. Was it?

I couldn’t feel him inside of me. Was I that wet? Was he that small?

My roommate walked in on us but he kicked her out. I wanted to stop. I couldn’t remember if he had put on a condom.

I hurriedly put my costume back on. I ran out of the room, terribly confused and lost.

My roommates were gone and the next thing I know I’m calling my best friend, sobbing, telling her that I had just lost my virginity to a guy who had his ears pierced. I felt like a cliché. I felt lonely and too drunk.

D came out to talk to me and I walked away. I left. I didn’t know where to go. I took off my heels and waddled over to my guitar teacher’s apartment. He was sweet, blonde and I had a crush on him. He opened the door, dressed in a Peter Pan costume, and I felt like I had just met my knight in shining armor. I have a Peter Pan fantasy and this was about as close as I was going to get to it.

I slurred my story to him and he hugged me.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

My night ended with a joint and Pulp Fiction.

The next morning I had a hickey the size of Russia and sore inner thighs. I was no longer a virgin.

“Do you feel any different?” my friends asked.

No, not at all.