The First Time

"I love you, I love you, I love you," I kept repeating. He didn't look at me for a long time. We were in his house, on his bed, on a Friday night. It seemed almost too perfect: I was allegedly at a friend's house, his parents were at a party and wouldn't be home for hours, his brother was out with his girlfriend, and his sisters were at another party. He knew it was the perfect time to finally take the next step in our year-long relationship.

Only problem: I wasn't ready. Many of my friends were not virgins, and they would always go into long detail about the pain and how awkward it is to see your boyfriend without clothes for the first time. I wouldn't mind the pain, I was pretty sure I could manage. It was just the fact that I was almost too young. Only seventeen and already alone in a house with a boy on a bed? Where did my parents go wrong?

I had very good parents. Very nice to me. I had more than enough freedom at home. I remember looking at all my school pictures. Remembering how cute I was. How innocent I looked. I always thought I would end up being one of those girls who grew into fine women and would save themselves for marriage. I had planned to get a promise ring as soon as I turned sixteen. Ultimately, my parents forgot. And I honestly didn't care anymore. And now I was thinking back to when I actually wanted a beautiful ring on my left hand. I remembered what color I wanted, what words I would say, and most importantly, my promise to God to stay pure until I was married. That was, until I met James.

We met in 5th grade. He was the most obnoxious little boy I had ever seen. He would flick me in the back and pull my hair and trip me in front of the class. As we got older, I had noticed something I had never noticed before: James was very, very cute. His face had gotten longer, and he lost all his baby fat and started working out. His braces disappeared in 7th grade, and he got contacts in 9th. His hair grew out to be chin-length, stick-straight, and in layers. Everything about him was beautiful to me now.

He told me in our sophomore year of high school that he had liked me since the first time he saw me. He admitted that all those times he was hurting me and making me cry, he was just trying to get me to notice him. I told him I liked him, too. We've been inseparable since.

Or, so I thought.

Now looking at him through tear-soaked eyes. We'd planned this night for two weeks. He got everything ready, bought protection, he even cleaned his room and put rose petals on the floor. It was very sweet and romantic, but as soon as I knocked on his front door, I felt weird. I felt like this was not supposed to happen. God was screaming at me from the clouds, "Stop this right now! Turn back, go home, and have a nice night."

I couldn't turn around. Not after all the preparation I did. He might have prepared his room, but I prepared myself. I got a waxing, which hurt. I put on a lot more makeup than I should. And I bought a cute lingerie set, complete with a black thong to match the short, skimpy gown.

I had tried it on at least five times before coming here. The satin felt good on my skin, and it looked great on me. I looked at myself in the mirror and tried many different sexy poses to get him off. Finally, I realized I was being an idiot, watching myself in the mirror.

I flipped back to reality when he sighed. He had his shirt unbuttoned and his belt unbuckled. He stared at me with pleading eyes when I started undoing the satin robe, then stopped abruptly.

"What's wrong?" he asked me. He patted the spot on the bed next to him. I remained standing. Suddenly, his eyes were full of concern. "Izzy?"

I couldn't look at him. I retied my robe and looked off to my left at his dresser. It had at least five lit candles on it, prepared for tonight. To set the mood, I guessed. Right now, that was not working out too well. I was embarrassed and scared and he was disappointed and probably worried. I felt horrible.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I can't, I just can't."

"What?" he sounded shocked. "Why not?" His eyes became wide as he looked me up and down, trying to figure out what was wrong. Suddenly, he went into his joking mood that always seemed to come at the wrong times. "Is it my breath?" he laughed.

"James," I pleaded. "Please take this as seriously as I am!"

His smiled faded. "Izzy, what's the matter?"

I sat down on the bed next to him. "I--" I couldn't get it out. I couldn't hurt him. I couldn't. I at least had to try. "I need to get something to eat real quick,"

He sighed of relief. "Oh, okay. Um, there are some apples in the kitchen." He pointed out his door and to the left.

I nodded and started walking down the hall. When I was outside his doorway, I heard him call, "I'll be waiting,"

Hopefully eating would give me time to think. I sat at the table and chewed bits of the apple slowly, thinking. Think, think, think. How was I going to do this? I took sex ed.. I knew what to expect. He had the condom in his room, sitting on the bed somewhere.

The teacher always told us to not have sex for love. That we were too young to know what love was. I asked myself why I was going to have sex with James.

I love him, I answered.

That's a start, I replied. Why else?

I trust him to be my first.

So? Trust isn't the major issue here. Think harder! I scolded myself.

I'm thinking! I yelled right back. I took in a short gasp when I realized I had finished the apple, but had not figured everything out. I walked over to the fruit bowl and took another out. I ate this one even slower. I swallowed what I had in my mouth. Have you figured it out yet? I questioned.

Yes, but I refuse to say it.

Why? I took another bite.

I sighed. I think I am not only for love, but because I don't want to be behind when I go to college.

Go on… I pushed.

Everyone at the university will most likely have already lost their virginity. And they'd be in the next step of sex.

What would that be? I asked while chewing my apple slowly.

Most girls continue to have sex just to get rid of the pain. The more you do it, the less it hurts. Well, everyone over there will just be doing it for pleasure, since they are already used to it. Or worse, to see who can sleep with the most guys. I just want to be accepted.

I blinked. Do you want to have sex with him? I asked myself.

Yes and no.

Why and why?

Yes, because I love him and I don't want to disappoint him. No, because this is really stupid and could have really terrible consequences.

Do you really care about the consequences?

No, I'm just making up excuses.

Fine then. Now get in there and do what you came here to do! You can do it!

In a rush of adrenaline, I stood up, feeling very confident, and threw away the apple. I walked back into James's room to find him lounging on his bed. "Hey, you feeling better?" he asked me as he sat up. His shirt was still unbuttoned, and at some point he had taken off his belt and put it on the floor.

I smiled and nodded. Then I cleared my throat and tossed my hair behind my shoulders. Grab the ribbon, I ordered myself. I took one of the silk ribbons in my hand and slowly untied the robe. It gracefully fell to the floor as his eyes widened.I stopped abruptly, looking around me. What now?

The gown, the silk gown! Take it off! I screamed in my head. I slowly pulled the strap on my right shoulder down, revealing my bare shoulder. James took his shirt off and stood up, hovering over me. His shaky hands caressed my arms as his lips touched mine softly. Kissing him was nothing new.

I slipped out of the gown when we broke apart. He picked me up and put his hands under my thighs. We kissed again and he gently laid me on the bed under him. The covers were warm and soft, like his skin. All I had on was a strapless black bra and the silky thong. He lifted me up with his arms for a second to undo my bra. I took it off as he kissed me cleavage, softly. Then he moved up to my collar bone, my neck, my jaw, my cheek, and back to my neck.

I gasped for air while he continued to kiss my neck. I was burning up. His body heat felt like I was sitting a yard away from a fire during Christmas time. I heard a zipping sound and realized two seconds too late that it was almost time:

Penetration.

Pain.

Impurity.

I felt something, low. Around my abdomen. His hands were freezing. He was taking off my thong. I almost shrieked, but he might of mistaken it for excitement. I felt his fingers going lower as the last piece of my ensemble slipped off.

His hands shook and were moving around rapidly. In some ways, this was pleasurable. But as of right now, I was too nervous to feel anything. He moved his mouth back up to mine and kissed me, but with more eagerness this time. His fingers continued to feel around, memorizing the numerous parts. I guessed he was looking for the right hole. I didn't want to act nervous, but I was sweating through my wavy white-blond hair. I knew it was coming, I expected some kind of pain within the next few seconds.

He shoved his finger in the right hole, and I could tell. The amount of force, the coldness, the familiarity from putting a tampon in there for the last six years. But for some reason, this wasn't like a tampon. It hurt. A lot. I gasped. He broke away from me and looked at my eyes. "You need me to stop?" I suddenly realized we had gotten under a blanket somehow. He started sliding his finger out.

"No," I said quickly. "Go ahead. I'm fine." I was lying, in a way. I wanted to stop right then and there. But if we stopped now, it'd just hurt even more when I finally did lose my virginity. Even if I made him stop fingering me, it wouldn't hurt any less.

He kissed me again, tenderly, and slid his tongue through my lips. This felt normal. What was going on in my lower abdomen didn't feel normal. I had never "masturbated" as some kids at school called it. My friends would tell me about times they had put a condom on a banana and experimented with that while their parents were asleep. I had always had horrible thoughts about that. I'd hoped when the time had come, the guy wouldn't be as big as a banana.

Suddenly, he slid his finger out, and replaced it with something else. I knew what was happening. This was it. This was the last second of my virginity. Forgive me, God. I pleaded. And whatever you do, don't take this out on James. My loving, adorable, sensitive James.

The pain was almost unbearable. Tears were in my eyes. It felt like a knife was being shoved at full force up my vagina. I clenched my fingers and dug into his shoulders, but he didn't stop. He kept going. Every time he went out, I breathed a sigh of relief, only to be in more pain when he went back in. It hurt more each time.

I hoped he was getting something out of this. Because all I was getting out of this was a phobia of sex. I wanted him to be getting some pleasure. I knew I couldn't do anything, because I was a republican. I just let him do whatever he wanted as I moaned in pain.

It seemed like forever until I could actually breathe again. He let out a deep sigh and kissed my cheek. "I love you," he whispered, hoarsely. I would have said something back, but I was completely incapable of speaking. I just nodded and tried my hardest to smile.

He got up and left me under the blanket. When he came back, he had my robe in his hand. I quickly put it on while he threw his clothes on. I felt a searing pain when I tried to walk. It was useless. I just sat on the edge of his bed and winced every time I moved my legs to put my pants on. When everything seemed in place, he sat next to me and put his arms around my shoulders, kissing my ear.

At that moment, I realized something. No matter how bad it hurt, no matter how long it took, no matter what kind of pain I'd be in tomorrow, I was glad it was him and no one else. If anyone was to cause tears in my eyes from insertion, I wanted it to be him. No one else. I was his, and he was mine. And during that period of time, we were one.