Chapter 4: Losing My Virginity

Lord knows I was an awkward kid in high school. In my head it was very clear that there was a distinct social force separating me from the popular kids, and like every misguided dork, I used outlandish style to get the attention of the popular kids and try to overcome that force. I had a pair of pants that were kind of MC Hammer-ish but made of tiny squares in yellow, orange, and red. I had the most garish Z Cavaricci jeans that I could find at the mall. I even bought a pair of skin tight black stonewashed jeans from the thrift store once and cut a series of very symmetrical one-inch slits down the front of the legs, and long slits down the back. My friend Vikki told me that one day when I got up to leave Spanish class, my white Hanes briefs pinched out one of the slits under my ass. Everyone got the joke except for me. For God's sake, I even had a surfer wave in my bangs and a mullet in the back.

So I have established that I was a nerd. You can imagine my suprise then when the girl with the biggest boobs in high school took a fondness for me. She wasn't exactly at the top of the social ladder either, but let me tell you it didn't hurt to have the attention of a girl who the hot guys in the class had at least a curiosity for. Crystal was actually a pretty sweet girl too, so in my junior year, we started dating.

She might be able to correct me on this, but I think the first sexual contact we had was at my house. Her older sister had chapperoned her, but Sis fell asleep on the floor of the living room while we were watching a movie. Crytal and I started making out, and somehow my pants came down a bit. Wow, as I remember that I can visualize how little hair I used to have. Those were the good old days. It takes a variety of heavy duty lawn equipment to keep my bush at a respectable level now. Anyway, so Crystal and I messed around.

Let's just get to the good stuff. After we had been dating for about three months, Crystal and I decided that we wanted to lose our virginity to each other. We enlisted the help of my friend Vikki, who was dating a guy that I just adored. What was his name? Doesn't matter. His parents kept the family RV parked on the street in front of the house. So one night Crystal and I made up stories to our parents about staying the night at friend's houses and Nameless Cutie gave us the keys to the RV.

I believe that I made an attempt at sex that night, but Crystal got scared, and instead we spent the night cuddled in each other's arms. The affection must have been what she needed to feel safe though, because in the morning she let me in. It was nice actually; a bit awkward, but I found her gushy spot to be quite fascinating. It didn't blow my socks off or anything, but it was definitely a memorable experience. Halfway through, Crystal started crying. I stopped immediately thinking of course that I must be terribly huge and tried not to revel in my pride as I asked her what was wrong. It turned out she was just a bit overwhelmed at the finality of her virginity being gone. I imagine that must happen to a lot of Catholic girls. I just felt curious, and excited to tell my friends, and sad that my penis wasn't big enough to make her cry after all.

Crystal and I didn't date much longer, but we did continue to have sex for over a year. My best story from that time was when we went with her mom to a family friend's house, and while mom and the friend sipped tea in the kitchen, Crystal took me to the backyard and "hid" us behind a tree. She opened her shirt, got down on her knees, and played the famous Hide-Mr-Happy-In-The-Big-Boobs game. Oh, we did it in the changing room at Miller's Outpost in the mall too. Hmmm, that must have planted the seed that in my 20's became the public sex tree. I'll talk about that later.

So I guess officially I lost my virginity with Crystal, but if you know me or have read any other post or found my blog through my profile on bigmuscle.com, then you know I'm a big 'mo, so this story wouldn't be complete without talking about my first sex with a boy. When I was 17, in my senior year of high school, I worked at the Krikorian movie theater in El Cajon. On one slow weeknight, the girl working the ticket booth called me over from the door. She was laughing at the newspaper, and told me that she just noticed that the column titled "Seeking Just a Friend" in the personals section was actually listings for guys seeking guys. On the way home from work that night, I bought a newspaper, and when I got home I read every word of every ad in that section. I can't describe the excitement I felt inside me. I didn't really know that men who liked men sought each other out. I thought it was something to hide and be ashamed of, and maybe if you were lucky you might get chance encounters with drunk straight friends every year or two. Could it be this easy?

A week later I wrote an ad for myself and sent it to the newspaper. I said I was an 18yo surfer type. I was actually 17 and afraid of the ocean, but let's not get bogged down in semantics. The first person who left me a voice mail was a 25yo old guy that lived in the suburbs. I called him back and after a few minutes of mostly logistical conversation, we hung up. An hour later I drove to his house. He was babysitting his sister's kid, but apparently I passed his initial inspection because he told me to meet him down the block in 10 minutes. He showed up in a car and told me to follow him. I did, and he led me to a Motel 8 that rented rooms by the hour.

I won't go into too much detail, but I will say that it was completely different than having sex with a girl. I was intoxicated by his smell, by his skin, by his touch. I did everything he asked. And as I got close to finishing, I whispered under my breath, "You are a God." He said, "What?" I said it again, and I remember that in that moment I meant it. He saved me from feeling like I might never experience the kind of intimacy I had been wanting for what seemed like an eternity.

He held me for a while afterwards, and as I lay on his chest, I said, "I have a secret to tell you. I'm not actually 18. I am only 17." He said, "I have a secret too. That wasn't my sister's kid I was watching. That was my kid. My wife came home right after I told you to leave."

I think that about 16 other men left me voice mails from that newspaper ad, and over the next six months or so, I called every single one of them. I didn't connect with all of them, but I connected with enough that by the time I graduated high school, I was already considering myself a bit of a slut. I loved it. And so began my sex life with men.