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Friday, April 20, 2012

‘F’ number 5:

‘Fuck’. Well, there we have it. I think I prefer to call it ‘sex’, but obviously that would not start with an ‘f’ and then we would have all sorts of problems. So ‘fuck’ it is. Everyone gets to an age in life when they realise (or have been told) that their friends have ‘done it’ or are planning on ‘doing it’, and you hope against hope that you will not be the last lone individual who will be destined to remain forever untouched and inexperienced and live with a house full of flea ridden cats, in a virginal zone of misery. Instead, you pray someone will want to remove that stigma from you, and fast, before there is no-one left to take it. Thankfully this did happen to me, eventually, at the modest age of eighteen. Man 1 was my very first and to my surprise I was told, some years later, that I was his first as well, which now I think about it, is not so much of a surprise considering the acts of poking and prodding and all else that went on at the time.

I remember going to his house, half hoping that this would be the day but also dreading the fact that THIS WOULD BE THE DAY. I said hello to a family member or two and we headed off upstairs for a ‘chat’ and to ‘listen to music’. I vividly remember The Calling being picked as the album of choice and then ‘F’s 2 to 4 preceded to be introduced to our ‘chat’ until we ended up on the bed. Now, this is where my memory fails me. I cannot seem to remember whether this bed was a bunk bed or just a single bed which looked a bit strange. Either way, it was a bed made for a child and I remember thinking that really we should not be doing such things in a bed made for a child, but I also had more pressing matters on my mind which took precedence over this issue. I was asked ‘are you sure you want to do this?’ and I must have mumbled some sort of response which correlated to the word ‘yes’. I did not really have time to think about this answer, The Calling were playing in the background, Man 1 was practically lying on top of me (condom in hand, no-one can say he was not prepared), my clothes were largely askew and he was certainly in the mood for more. So it happened, if a little erratically, it certainly happened. Parts of the male anatomy had to moved into place and with the look of utter agony on my face it was certainly easy to see that I had not ventured this far ever before. I don’t remember it lasting very long but the first thing I thought of after the ‘deed was done’ was how I was going to relay this incident to friends via text message. I did not regret what happened; I never will regret what happened. Everyone has a first time and I’m very glad he was my first time. We did repeat this event during the following months before we went our separate ways, not too often though, as my lasting memory of ‘fucking’ with Man 1 is the pain I was in during and afterwards and the other ‘F’s always proved to be just as good.

Man 2. Well, again, it is very hard to put a finger on when our first time was. We go back to that time in May where all sorts of things happened. This was certainly our first real night together without other people getting involved or being around us and getting in the way. He knew what to do. This always struck me in all that we did together, the way he could say what was good and what was bad and knew all sorts of things which at the time I was very clueless about. In my opinion we did ‘fuck’, but we also ‘had sex’, ‘made love’…all of these things I did for the first time with him. With Man 1 and our joint experience of, well, nothing, we never ventured further than the limited excitement of missionary, but with Man 2 I think I have tried pretty much everything going, except any weird acrobatics. In fact it never really hurt with Man 2. I think that is the problem with being Man 1, he will always be associated with pain and pointless fondling which meant absolutely nothing. What I can say about Man 1, however was that at least we were adventurous with our choices of location. Man 2 and myself rarely stepped foot off the bed and then, when we did, we largely secluded our ‘fucking’ (I must be blunt) to the confines of the house.   

So, that was ‘fuck’. I think I will leave that there as I’m getting into the realms of the unnecessary and the potentially sordid, although bondage was never on my to-do list.

Well, we are almost at the end. One more ‘F’ to encounter, a situation that once you find ‘the one’, this 6th ‘F’ will hopefully be made redundant but until then you do have to put up with it…


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