My First Taste

I had Mike wait with his car around the corner. Even though he is my track coach and not just any boy from school, my parents are conservative enough that when it comes to me and boys, deception was usually my M.O. My parents emigrated from Somalia a few years before I was born, and they are your typical Muslim immigrant family—well educated, loving, but very protective.

Mike had his blue Trailblazer parked just where he said it would be. I hurried over to the passenger door and hopped in. He was an assistant track coach and substitute teacher at my suburban high school. I had worked with him frequently over the past four years and had grown fond of him. He was medium height, with dark blonde hair and green eyes. He had broad shoulders and (I imagined) a gorgeous chest. He was an athlete, so he had a good body, but he wasn’t a muscle-bound oaf. As you might be able to guess by my description, I had developed a crush on him. The problem is that he was absolutely off limits. For one, I was seventeen and he was twenty-four. For another, he was a teacher at my school and my coach. And he was a white boy—-and a non-Muslim to boot.

So he was officially off-limits. But that didn’t prevent me from flirting shamelessly or fantasizing endlessly about a romantic encounter in the locker room. In my favorite fantasy, I’m alone taking a shower. I get some soap in my eye, and I’m trying to rinse it out when I feel a strong hand on my hip. Because of the soap, I can barely see. All I can make out is that the hand is white, and it feels like fire against my skin. I try to turn, but another hand is at my shoulder, gripping firmly. I stand still, shocked, as the hands caress my petite body, my hips, my ass, my breasts. I’m pushed to the ground, and can finally make out that the hands belong to Mike. (I’m embarrassed to admit it now, but at the time I wasn’t familiar with the act of love. After all, I was a virgin and I did come from a conservative background. As such, most of the fantasy did not involve specific acts, but rather fuzzy generalities. Speaking with friends since then, I’ve found out that this is quite common among virginal teens’ fantasies.)

When Mike announced that he leaving for graduate school the team threw him a going-away party. Unfortunately, I couldn’t be there as it coincided with Eid, a major religious holiday. So a few weeks later, I told Mike that I should take him out to dinner to say goodbye. When he accepted I told him where to meet me.

On the way to the restaurant we made small talk. It was early spring, and I had to decide what college I should attend. Mike seemed impressed that I had been accepted to UPenn and Cornell, as well as receiving a full-ride scholarship to the local state university. Mike tried to persuade me to go to UPenn. “It’s the East Coast, which is a lot more fun than the mid-west or upstate New York. And it’s only an hour-and-a-half from New York City. You can come visit some weekend. I’ll show you around.” Mike was going to be attending Law School in New York.

Mike took me to a Spanish restaurant. The food was wonderful, and Mike was charming. I often felt that I wasn’t holding up my end of the conversation as I found myself lost in his eyes. (I am a hopeless teenage cheeseball romantic, I know.) Becoming distracted by inappropriate thoughts was not uncommon. Many times during practice I would miss out on an important training tip because I was admiring Mike’s broad shoulders.

Despite my protests, Mike picked up the bill. As soon as the waiter returned, I heard Mike’s cell phone go off. “Shit,” he said after he hung up. “I need to email a friend of mine something. It won’t take long—do you mind if we stop by my place? It’ll only take a minute.” I didn’t mind at all, and a part of me was pretty excited at the prospect of seeing his apartment. I’m laughing a little now at how naïve I was. Before then, I had never been alone with a boy. I could hear my mother nagging at me in the back of my head. If I were to believe her, Mike would jump on me the second we were alone. “Boys are interested in one thing,” she would say. Thankfully, she would be right.

Mike lived in a small but neatly furnished apartment a few blocks from the restaurant.

“The computer’s in my bedroom,” he said as he handed me the remote for his stereo. “Sorry. I don’t have a TV, but you can listen to music until I’m finished. I’ll be right out.” Mike disappeared into the back room and I began to inspect his music. He had a good collection of Hip Hop. I picked out a CD and put it on.

“I need to freshen up. Where’s your bathroom?” I asked, sticking my head into Mike’s room. Mike told me I had passed it in the hall. Inside, I checked myself out in the mirror. My hair looked okay, but I was particularly satisfied with the way my skirt showed off my legs. I thought I had caught Mike checking them out at dinner.

Exiting the bathroom, I found that Mike had finished his email chore. He was in the small kitchen the adjoined the living room. “Would you like a drink?” he said. Drinking alcohol is forbidden for Muslims but I wasn’t feeling too religious at the moment.

”Sure,” I replied. We sat on the couch and drank and talked. After my second drink, I began to feel extremely light headed. The booze made me bold. The couch was small and I pushed my leg up against Mike’s. My skirt had ridden up and the denim of his jeans rubbing against my bare thigh was driving me wild. “I’m really going to miss you after you’re gone, Mike.”

”Well, I’m just glad I was able to...Miriam, what’s wrong!” The drinks had really gone to my head, and I suppose I almost passed out, my head falling in Mike’s lap. I was drunk, but I could feel a stiffness under those jeans. Was it possible that Mike was turned on too?

He half carried me to his bedroom so I could lie down. The worst seemed to be over, but I was still dizzy and not entirely with it.

As Mike laid me down on the bed, I prayed that the room would stop spinning long enough to enjoy Mike’s hands on me. “Are you okay?” he asked. I began to mumble that I was doing just fine, that I’m not used to drinking, but he was on me.

I moaned something incoherent as Mike rubbed his crotch into mine. My skirt had ridden up so that his jeans were directly pressed against my panties. His hands moved aggressively over my shirt, groping my breasts underneath. He seemed to know what he was doing. I tried to tell him to stop, but he pressed his lips against mine. I opened my mouth and let him push his tongue inside.

Mike’s hand moved down from my breast to my waist. I pulled away from his kiss as he slipped his hand up my shirt. “We shouldn’t,” I said. Mike didn’t pay any attention while he slowly pulled my shirt up over my bra. Still dizzy from the drinks, I couldn’t put up much of a fight. I closed my eyes. My bra unhooked from the front, so Mike had no trouble freeing my breasts.

”Look at those gorgeous tits,” he said to himself before lowering his face to suck on first one nipple, then the other. My will to resist was fading fast. He obviously had done this before, and it felt amazing. He continued to thrust his crotch into me.

After a few minutes of this, Mike stopped and pushed himself off of me. I was a little relieved. If only I could pull myself together. I opened my eyes just in time to see Mike pull his shirt off. I was shocked enough that I barely had time to think that my fantasies were right—he did have an amazing physique. Then he reached down and unbuttoned his pants.

“Jesus,” he exclaimed. “You’re so fucking wet you’ve soaked through your panties. Look at my jeans.” Sure enough, there was a sizable wet spot on his crotch. Mike didn’t delay any longer; soon his pants were totally off. His cock was hard and upright underneath his boxers.

I couldn’t believe the change in Mike. At practice, he had never even looked at one of us girls in a lewd way. “Do you want to see it?” he asked, noticing that I hadn’t taken my eyes off of the tent he was pitching. I didn’t answer, but he pulled down his boxers anyway. I had never seen a guy’s penis before and certainly not hard a hard one. It was a magnificent sight, rock hard and veins bursting.

Mike didn’t waste any more time. He hiked my skirt all the way over my hips and roughly pulled my panties down. He leaned over me again, rubbing his cock against my pussy and sucking on my breasts. An involuntary moan escaped my lips. I was loving this, but I was also very naïve and very scared.

Mike pulled back and positioned the head of his cock at the entrance to my womanhood. “Open your eyes baby, you’re so beautiful,” he said softly. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” These were the first nice things he said to me. I smiled at him. Then he began to push inside of me.

”No,” I said, but it was a very small voice. His hand moved from my breast to my mouth; he roughly shoved two fingers inside. All the while his cock slid further inside. Then he abruptly stopped.

“Holy shit! You’re a virgin.” I closed my eyes and sucked on his fingers. This hurt, but deeper down it felt very good. The pain between my legs flared as Mike broke my hymen. A groan, some desperate noise, escaped from my throat. I opened my eyes, noticing that my panties still hung from my left ankle. The pain subsided to a dull ache, even as Mike’s rhythm increased.

”You’re doing great, baby,” he whispered. Noticing the contrast between my black thighs wrapped around his white waist, I sucked on his fingers harder. I was sore, but I also felt something building up within me. I’ve come before, but only by playing with myself. I have since realized that (thankfully!) I orgasm very easily. Mike had only been fucking me for a few minutes, after all.

He was approaching orgasm too, apparently. “Shit, Miriam, I’m gonna come. You’re making me come so hard!”

“Wait! I don’t want to get pregnant,” I mumbled, Mike’s fingers still deep in my throat. But it was too late. Mike grunted. I felt his warm spunk unload in me, filling my tiny vagina. The contractions of his cock were almost enough to push me over the edge, but not quite.

Mike leaned back, pulling his cock out of my pussy and his fingers out of my mouth. I was pissed, not just because he came in me but also because he didn’t get me off. “Asshole,” I thought to myself. I reached down and started rubbing my pussy and clit, enjoying the feel of his warm come as it leaked out of me. I knew I could get myself off, but I wanted his cock in me again.

Mike almost fell off the bed when he saw me plunge my fingers inside myself. I could tell control was shifting in my favor. “I never took you for a one-minute man,” I said. “The least you could do was please me.” My pussy was sore, but I was still horny.

Mike tried to stammer an apology. “Come on, white boy, you want a rematch?” His cock was still hard, and it shone with the combination of my juices and his come.

“You might have to give me a few minutes,” he said, obviously shocked and very pleased. I didn’t have the patience to wait, so I sat up, kissed Mike, and moved down to his cock. I began by licking around the base. I wasn’t totally sure what would feel good to him, but I decided to forge ahead on instinct.

After a few minutes of this licking, Mike was still excited enough to push me to the next level. “Put it in your mouth,” he said. Tentatively, I took the head of his cock in my mouth. He put his hand on the back of my head and pushed my face down. I struggled to keep my mouth open as he grabbed my hair and bobbed me up and down on his cock. By the noises he was making, I could tell he was enjoying this. Meanwhile, I continued rubbing my sore pussy, stopping momentarily as I peaked, keeping myself from coming.

I worked my tongue and lips over his cock. His exclamations were really turning me on, so I continued. I was crazy with lust. I would’ve let him do anything to me. Pulling his cock out of my mouth, he asked me if I wanted him to fuck me again. I couldn’t say yes fast enough.

I had been on my hands and knees while I sucked Mike’s cock. He got up, holding my head in place and moved around behind me. I continued fingering my clit as he entered me from behind. I felt really exposed with my face down in the bed and my ass in the air, but this is just what I needed. My tight pussy put up even more resistance in this position, but the pain had largely passed. I felt full and it was amazing.

I was on the edge. “Harder! Fuck me harder. Come in me again!” I screamed. Mike had one hand on my waist which he used to pull me back as he thrust forward. With his other hand, he reached around and fondled my tit. Even if I wanted to hold off, I couldn’t for long. The orgasm started deep in my pussy, moved out to my clit and ass, and shot up my spinal column straight into my brain. I rode the wave for several minutes, as it crested, subsided, and peaked again.

As I came down from my orgasm, Mike was heating up. He was really fucking me fast and hard. “Baby, come in me again. Use me,” I moaned. Deep down I was still really worried about pregnancy, but I had just experienced the most amazing orgasm of my young life, and I wanted to be as wanton and dirty as possible.

But Mike had a different idea. He pulled out, flipped me on my back, and started fucking me from the missionary position again. “I want to look in your eyes as I come,” he told me. I had several mini-orgasms and Mike pounded me again and again.

Without warning he pulled out, and shot stream after stream of come onto my chest, which was already slick with sweat. The heat of his semen was a remarkable sensation on my tits. I took his cock in my hand and milked the last bit of come out of him.

We feel asleep after that. I woke up a couple hours later with a splitting headache. Sober, I demanded that Mike drive me home. I snuck into my house with dried come all over myself. The next morning, I brought myself to orgasm again as I remembered how Mike’s cock had tasted in my mouth. I had my first taste of sex, and I liked it.

06/14/2002