I recently watched the episode of New Girl called “Virgins.” It is Season 2, Episode 23, with the synopses: the gang reminisce about losing their virginities, and have a contest about who had the worst experience.
It started me thinking about what percentage of folks have bad first times vs. good first times, and how wide the spectrum of bad-to-good even is. I happen to know someone whose first time involved a sandwich baggie and a rubber band (option #9 in the book How to MacGyver a Condom), so I’m guessing the spectrum goes pretty damn far in the direction of holy-god-this-was-the-worst-decision-of-my-life.
My own first time was A-OK, so for all of you who are super excited by the prospect of hearing the deets, I apologize. Meanwhile, for anyone who was completely horrified that’s where this was going, you’re welcome. That said…buckle your seat belts, because what I am going to do is tell you about the first time I gave a blowjob.
First I want you to have a really accurate picture of where I was in life. I’d recently finished my freshman year of college and my goal for summer was to have something romantical or sexual happen. Frankly, any action seemed like a pipe-dream at that point. What’s the phrase — Guys Don’t Make Passes at Girls Who Wear Glasses? Hmm..that isn’t it. Oh yeah, it’s — Boys Aren’t Interested if You’re Shy as Fuck. Not as catchy as the first phrase, but it’s way more accurate.
I had been in one relationship at that point. My high school boyfriend and I had broken up a few weeks into college. However, in a court of law I would not be able to say whether he possessed male genitalia (though he did lack breasts), so that tells you all you need to know about how innocent that relationship was.
Then one summer night, my most promiscuous friend from high school convinced me to go along with her to a club downtown. Almost immediately, she was off in a dark corner with one boy or another, leaving me to fend for myself in a sea of sweaty early-twenty-something guys who had bathed in Axe body spray. After being groped and dry humped by so many creeps — honestly, where the fuck do they all come from — I thanked the good lord that the night was almost over. That’s when a pair of firm — but not grabby — hands landed on my waist. We danced for a few songs before I finally turned around, pleased to see that he was handsome. He kissed me before we’d even spoken and to my surprise, that landed in the realm of fricken hot. At the end of the night I scribbled my phone number on a five-dollar bill (classy!!), and a week later I told my mom I was going to a friend’s, but took off to the mall parking lot to meet Nate.
He pulled up next to me, I hopped in his truck, and off we went to his house an hour away to watch a movie. (Current-day me is appalled by how trusting past me was. I did not know that kid. I could’ve been killed!) We get approximately three minutes into the movie before he suggests we lay down to watch it, and maybe two more go by when he says, “How much longer do you think I can keep from trying to make out with you?” I still remember that line, because it was so cheesy.
Eventually we head upstairs to his bedroom, and I am desperately trying to act like I know exactly what I’m doing. Despite my lack of hands-on experience, I had read a few guides to giving handjobs or blowjobs in anticipation of the day when I might have such an opportunity. Yeah, that’s right, I studied for sexual interaction. Don’t you dare judge me.
I’m not really sure how I’m doing with this whole hj thing when Nate tells me to get the lotion from his dresser. This seems a little odd to me, but I figure he’s the more experienced one and certainly knows what feels good to him, so sure thing! I note that it’s juniper scented as I pump it into my hand. For anyone unfamiliar, juniper is a coniferous plant. So I begin rubbing this pungent lotion all over his erection and all is going well for a while. Next he announces that he wants to “titty fuck” me. My blank stare has nothing to do with not understanding his request and everything to do with the fact that my breasts are — at this time in my life — a really solid A-cup. I don’t know if boobs look bigger when your body is surging with testosterone, but his attempt at fucking my “tits” went precisely as well as I’d imagine using your ass to play a violin would go.
He’s straddling my chest at this point, and knee-walks himself up a few inches with clear intentions of initiating blowjob action. Great! I’ve already touched my first penis and received my first (and to date only) “titty fuck,” why not knock off first blowjob, too?? I open wide (no teeth — I know this rule!) and immediately gag terribly.
Not because I have a sensitive gag reflex (I don’t).
Not because his dick was huge (it wasn’t).
No, I gag like never before and never since because his dick has absorbed and is still covered in PINE SCENTED HAND LOTION. Do you know what pine scent tastes like? Do you know what hand lotion tastes like? Use your imagination and meld those two wonderful tastes and you’ll have an inkling of how terrible my life was for five minutes back in 2006. Yep. Five minutes. That’s right, I CONTINUED giving Mr. Juniper Dick a blowjob — to completion. Why? Well, it was either due to Fact #1: when you finally get a dick in your mouth, you own it, Fact #2: I date and give head like a champion, or Fact #3: because I really wanted to stop but still wasn’t sure if this was how blowjobs were supposed to go.
I’ll let you think about which one it really was. Meanwhile, I’m going to go drink something because my throat has tightened up in disgust from the vivid recollection of swallowing enough lotion that poison control probably should’ve been called.
With love, B!
P.S. Don’t ever go back to someone’s empty house with them when you don’t actually know them. And, maybe even more importantly, if someone ever asks you to lick their genitals after they’ve been covered in any non-edible substance, punch that motherfucker in said genitals and leave.