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Female • 17 years old years old • Pennsylvania I celebrated the end of my junior year of high school with my ultra-cool, apartment-renting, punk-rock-music-educating, twenty-one-year-old boyfriend dumping me. So when I ended up at a local punk-rock show he was also attending a scant few months later, I decided jealousy was the best weapon.Of course, his mother and still-elementary-school-aged sister could easily be heard moving through the rooms above us.It would take weeks — weeks curiously void of any other attempt at intercourse — for the irony of that entertainment choice to sink in.I’ve never tried to make a man who dumped me jealous by trying to fuck his friend again.A year ago, we started collecting your stories about having sex for the first time. But what made him perfect, despite the fact he only topped a hundred pounds when holding his bass, was the fact that he was friends with my ex. I don’t think Dan and I ever went on any outing you could actually classify as a date, but if we had, I approximate I gave it up on date three.Some of these have been hilarious, some awkward, some sad, and some sexy. We were in the cinderblock basement of his mom’s house, in a room made tough with liberal use of duct tape, band stickers and the central placement of his bass.We started to hang out in the same group of friends and quickly it was clear there was a mutual attraction.
NEXT: "The first time we went out ended in handcuffs…" I was a girl-crazy junior in high school when I noticed a sophomore who was in two of my classes.
She was a swimmer with a great toned body and sexy eyes.
He was also shirtless, except for three pages torn from , adhered to him by his surprisingly sticky sweat.
Using my sweet-ass vintage Wonder Woman t-shirt and the kind of perky boobs only a girl of seventeen can possess, I zeroed my sights in on Dan, a bassist who spastically jumped and thrashed through his band’s set of three-chord, throat-punishing songs.
After making out moved us from recliner to mattress, we conveyed to each other through a series of head movements and meaningful glances that tonight was the night — no more V-card. My virginity, the last of its kind in my circle of friends, had been lost in under thirty seconds.
While he fumbled around looking for a condom, I pulled my jeans and panties down, but left on my tank top, half because I was still so shy about my body and half because the chilly basement temperature. Still above me, Dan leaned back and whispered, "It gets better than this." I stumbled to the bathroom to clean myself.