Author's note: Many thanks to Luxx, Onyx03 and TheMasterBaiter for their help in brainstorming and editing.
*****
The first time I had sex, it was not with a lover.
In fact, I was not even at home. I was in Barcelona with a family friend, George. Because it is a city that never sleeps and the way you're blinded by it's beautiful lights, this city remains my favourite. I can still remember the thrill of walking down the streets at night. It was full of merchants and because of that it was noisy. The street food was probably the most exciting thing. As soon as I stepped out of my hotel, I could see the different tapas carts. I preferred the gambas al ajillo; George liked the calamars.
It was my eighteenth birthday and my parents had allowed me to travel as an adult outside my home country, but only if George agreed to come with me. He quickly agreed. He was my best friend and despite the age gap of eleven years, we were close. He saw me grow and turn from a girl into a young woman.
At the tender age of eighteen, I was not ugly but I was not pretty either. At least, I did not feel like it. It was not that I lacked confidence but, it was just that I never gained the attention that I hoped for. I remember feeling like I was unattractive when I walked around in the city. The other girls had curves in all the right places and when I looked at them, I recall feeling attracted to them. George, on the other hand could be compared to a good wine - The older he became, the finer he got. With broad shoulders and a jawline that you could grate cheese on, he did make heads turn.
It all happened on the day after my birthday. We were at some sort of club and we had already enjoyed some drinks. He had a few glasses of whiskey and, on his suggestion, I had some vodka mixed with Red Bull. It's still my favourite drink.
Oddly, it was not my first time drinking. He was the one who introduced me, during my sixteenth birthday, to whiskey. I enjoyed it but that night; I did not want to feel posh or fancy. I wanted to feel the buzz of the alcohol. After a couple of cocktails, we were still sitting at the bar and despite a few girls approaching him, George did not pay them any attention. It seemed that he wanted to focus on me. I assumed he wanted to protect me.
"You know, you can go have fun." I said.
"And leave you all alone while I satisfy those girls?"
"I won't be alone. In fact, I don't plan on going to our hotel tonight."
He raised his eyebrows, "Emma, are you telling me that you plan on losing your virginity here? With someone you barely know?"
I laughed, "What's the big deal about it? Don't tell me you knew Samantha's favourite colour when you snuck her into your room and fucked her."
Samantha was the one who took George virginity, at the youthful age of fifteen. I tend to believe that she was the person who moulded George's preferences in girls; tall brunettes.
Despite me finding what I had said being funny, he did not.
"
It is very far from pleasant to hear this from you.
You need to do it with someone you trust and who will respect you, Emma. Not some man you've just met in a bar. Don't you want something special, something that will be pleasant to recall? "
While what he said did make sense, it was completely unfair. At that epoch, I did not have any male friends. My school days were spent among girls in a Catholic school and the only males I knew were younger than me; I was their tutor.
"That's not fair. You know you're the only guy friend I have, G."
"Tough luck then. Make some friends, nerd."
He was wrong and I was stubborn. I had come to Barcelona to lose my virginity. I was not going to back down that easily. As we continued to sip our drinks, I continued to think about my mission. Then, I started joining the dots.
George was a man.
I trusted him.
I needed to fuck a man who I trusted.
Bingo.
I knew that I would need to convince him that I really wanted him to deflower me, to make me a woman. But I was confident that I could do that. I knew George. I knew that he liked me, and that he did not see me like a little sister. He would not have shared the things he told me with his sister. He treated me like his best friend. I wanted him to make me a woman because I trusted him. I remember when I saw him in this new way that night. I knew that he would take care of me and that he would make it worthwhile. I did not want romance. I didn't want petals on the bed. I knew that deep down, I really wanted someone that I could trust.
I don't remember what he had been saying before I told him my idea, but I do remember his "What the fuck" expression after I explained it. He was very hostile at first, saying that he did not want to lose our friendship and that my parents would probably kill him. I put forward arguments that he could not refute. I reminded him of the trust we had in each other and added the not so gentle threat of opening my legs to anyone passing if he did not take me this instant. He cussed himself at showing me the arts of arguing. Eventually, he agreed.
From there, and until we reached his room at our hotel, things happened in a blur. But I do remember the thrill that I got on the ride back when he gently placed his big hand on my inner thigh, as if to ask for permission. I granted it to him by kissing him.
My first kiss was with my best friend, in the back of a taxi.
I guess that was my first makeout as well. His hands did not leave my hair. He was gentle. I was clumsy in my kissing, I was probably his worst but he did not say anything. I could feel him smiling in the middle of it and I remember tugging on his lower lip, something I had seen on Gossip Girl.
When he grunted and asked in a thick, excited voice, "I can feel your enthusiasm. This is the last time I'm asking. Are you good?" I felt proud of myself. I gained a little bit of confidence.
I did not reply. Instead, I climbed on top of him the small taxi, grabbed his hands and put them under my dress. Then I resumed kissing him. As his hands roamed over my body and squeezed my breast through my bra, I felt his cock stiffen under me. The bulge caused my panties to press against my cunt. I realized how wet I actually was. My clit was tingling and I could feel myself clenching while my juices leaked out of me. I recall not being able to control myself and slowly started moving my hips. It felt so good. It was in a perfect position and I could feel more and more sparks going through my body.
At that time, I had never experienced an orgasm. Not because I wanted to wait but because I could not. After several masturbation sessions, no matter how I touched myself, I was only left frustrated. I would go to the very edge only to stay there. I could not figure out what I had to do. I felt guilty that I did not know my own body.
However, this time I could feel myself going higher than I ever had with the amount of pleasure that I was getting from rubbing my cunt against his erection. I knew that I was about to come. I stopped kissing him and buried my face in the crook of his neck, biting his skin and whimpering. Writing this makes me wet as I remember how he winced and then growled when my teeth pierced his skin. I felt him growing harder and bigger under me and making the pressure on my clit stronger. I closed my eyes as my breathing became more erratic. I knew that I was ready to have my first orgasm. I felt how close it was.
To this day, I can still feel the anger and frustration that I felt when George put his hands on my hips, preventing me from moving them. I fell from the height so quickly that I clenched his shirt in my fist and groaned. I pulled away from his neck and looked at him with fury in my eyes. That bastard was smirking. I could see that he was enjoying the power he had by refusing my pleasure.
He grabbed my face, kissed me and made me sit next to him, "Not here. The driver is watching us."
I rolled my eyes at him but did not say anything.
He did not stop touching me, however, running his hands over my body; making my skin sensitive and flushed. He kept me in a constant state of arousal. He kept stroking my legs and eventually, his hands went inside the top of my dress and he started fondling my small breasts. It was that day that I learned how sensitive my nipples are. He pinched and pulled them mercilessly. I can still remember the confusing ache and pleasure coursing through my body and going directly to my pussy. My back arched from something that I had never experienced before. I wanted to pull back but at the same time, I did not want him to stop. I had never played with my own body this way and there I was, discovering myself because my best friend was playing with my body. When my eyes closed, he realised that I was getting overwhelmed with sensations and he stopped torturing my nipples but continued to roam his hand over the rest of my body.
The ride had never seemed so long. I was dripping wet by the time we arrived and I probably left a stain on the seat. I could feel that the back of my dress was soaked because the wind made the cold cloth stick to my ass. After throwing some bills to the driver, we strode through the lobby to the lift. Inside, we continued to kiss. I felt almost awkward because I did not know what to do with my hands until I figured that I should probably copy him. Just when I was about to slide my hand under his shirt to feel his bare skin, the door of the lift opened and we walked through the corridor to his room.
Now that I think about it, not a lot of words were exchanged. It might have been because of how comfortable we were with each other or because he was embarrassed as well. Our breathing, the sound of my heels on the floor, and the clicking of the closing door were the only sounds that could be heard.
He led me to the front of his bed and I stood in front of him. For a very brief moment, nothing happened. It was like we were frozen. When I realised that he was not going to do anything, I quickly moved my hands up to the first button of his shirt. I remember how sweaty my palms were as I undressed him. I brushed it off as the anticipation. However, I know that I was somewhat scared.
What if my first time
really
was supposed to be my first boyfriend?