I suppose everyone remembers their first time. They remember it because it was awkward and embarrassing and disappointing, or in the case of the girl—painful as well.
After all of these years, I remember my first time with a continue sense of disbelief. It was hard to believe at the time—and it is hard to believe still. I think the reason that I stayed in academia and became a college professor and am now retired is all because of that first experience.
I came from a family in which no one had ever graduated from high school, but despite that, I won a full all-expenses-paid scholarship to a prestigious but small New England college.
The college through its history had always catered mostly to the sons of the wealthy—which my family certainly was not—but now for the first time in its history had decided to admit women. The time was the late 1960s, so you can understand the reasons for that. Like all institutions of higher learning, this college was being pressured with demonstrations to make things "equal." So this was the first year that girls were admitted. I found out a little later that the ones who were admitted were anxious to prove how liberal and open-minded they were. This was, after all, the time of the "Sexual Revolution."
I was studying in the library at that time as was my habit, since the dorm in which I lived was too noisy and boisterous for study, and I was sitting at a table by myself when she came over.
"Can I sit here?" she asked. I looked up. She was absolutely beautiful. She looked a lot like Ali McGraw, who was starring in a popular movie of the time, "Love Story." In today's world, 40 years later, you would have to say that she looked a lot like Katie Holmes—before she met Tom Cruise. She was about five-eight with long dark hair, a willowy figure, and a beautiful smile. In this 1960s age of mini-skirts, she was wearing a long denim skirt and a black turtleneck sweater. She looked very unusual and very beautiful.
"Okay." I looked around. That was odd. There were about 20 identical study tables in the library, and only three of them had any people at them. Why would she want to sit here? Oh well. I went back to my book.
"You're a freshman, aren't you?" she asked after awhile. I looked up and nodded. "I saw you at the freshman orientation," she said. "I'm a freshman too."
"I know that. You would have to be, since you're a girl."
She laughed. "Where are you from?"
"New Jersey."
"I'm from Idaho. Scholarship?"
I nodded.
"Me too. They gave out a lot of them this year."
I returned to my book, and we both fell into silence. I have to confess at this point that I was not a student who knew his way around women. I would not say that I came from a sheltered background, but in high school, I was always something of a "book nerd" and did not have any serious girlfriends. I was a virgin in other words.
After about 20 minutes, she spoke again. "Have you ever done it in a library?"
I looked up. "Done what?"
"Had sex. In a library."
I stared at her. She had to be kidding. "No."
"Would you like to?"
I looked around. "I don't know. What do you mean?"
"Look behind you. There's eight aisles of books. At the far end, around the corner of the stack, there's a table just like this one. No one is there—and no one can see there from anywhere else in the library."
I stared at her. She had to be kidding.
"Do you want to or not?' she asked.
"I don't know...I don't want to---"
"I'm going to go back there. If you want to have sex with me, you can follow. If you don't want to, you can go home—and cry if you want." She got up and carrying a small black bag purse walked back to the last aisle. I watched her as she turned.
What the hell was I going to do? I did not want to get kicked out of college for doing something like this. But also, I never had an offer like this in my life. Was I going to go back there with her—or was I going to go back to the dorm and cry? Was she kidding or what? Was this some kind of a joke? I could not believe it. But I had to find out. I got up and slowly walked back to the last row of books.
She was sitting on the far edge of the 4 x 6 oak table with her back to me. I walked around so I was facing her. She pushed off her shoes and put her feet up on the table. "Take off my panties," she said.
I reached under her skirt until I felt her panties. She lifted herself up and I slid them up over her thighs and then down her calves and finally off her feet.
"You can keep them—as a souvenir," she said. I put them in my pocket. Then she raised the hem of her skirt until it was bunched around the top of her thighs and laid back on the table. "Put it in," she said.
And there it was—right in front of me. A girl's vagina—or should I call it a "pussy"? With a nice fringe of dark hair around it. I unzipped my pants and pulled it out. To my surprise and relief, I already had a hard-on. My mind must have been already thinking about what might happen. I wasn't sure exactly what to do, but between the two of us, we managed to push it in—and I found that she was wet and warm inside. And tight. Within a few minutes, I was pumping away lie a piston engine and not giving a shit if we were caught or not. I knew that we both could be expelled for this if we were caught, but I didn't give a rat's ass at that time.
Finally, I came deep inside of her, and I think she got off as well. It was then I realized that you are supposed to use a condom for this. But I was not going to mention it if she was not.
Finally, I stood up again and with great reluctance pulled out of her. I was wet and dripping, and so was she.
"Here," she said, handing me two tissues from the black purse that was on the table beside her. I wiped off, as she did with two more tissues, and threw them into a nearby basket.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Frank."
