tagHumor & SatireA Boy's First Time

A Boy's First Time


I never knew his name, but he knew mine and he'll never forget. You never forget your first. As I looked up at him it was his hair that struck me. Short. Blond. Set with gel in a kind of wedge shape with the apex over his right eye. I'm not much for hairstyles, but his was quite striking and so it stuck.

His eyes were blue, his lips were dry and he was chewing the bottom one, but it was obvious he had no idea about that. His cheeks were red and he was breathing hard. From time to time he fanned himself, but it wasn't warm in the room and neither was he. He was terrified. First times will do that to you.

He looked young. He was young. Suddenly I found myself wondering if he might be under eighteen. I shook my head with a wry grin. Of course he was over eighteen, everyone in the building was over eighteen. Given what we were all here to do there was no way it could be otherwise. I was getting old, I thought. Even policewomen looked like schoolgirls to me these days.

The woman with him looked down at me. He was obviously in her care. Some minutes previously she'd introduced us and explained why she'd brought him to me. To relieve him of this terrible burden. She saw my rueful shake of the head. "Is something wrong?" She'd asked.

"Just thinking of how young some of these people look." I'd replied.

"Yes." She'd said with a laugh, "They get younger every year it seems. Still, at least no one here is under eighteen."

The boy finally laughed. "God yes. I remember my eighteenth birthday. Not for any specific reason. It just seemed the time to point out that it was, in fact, an event in my past."

"Ah well", said his chaperone. "Laurel will be so pleased to hear that. Time to get on with the story though."

The boy and I shared a look. "Careful with the fourth wall." I admonished.

"Pot. Kettle." She replied. "Whatever. Get on with it."

He was scared of hurting me which was sweet. The older woman by his side had picked me for this honour, but he was her boy. She was going to be giving the guidance, telling him what to do and how to do it. When to be firm and when to be gentle. I was there to be penetrated, by her, by him - Who was doing it really? It was her, taking what she needed from me, she was just using the boy to do it.

And the boy was terrified. I was far from passive though. I encouraged him, I made a show of being eager for him. I'm no virgin after all. This kind of penetration is something I'm well used to, but I've never been anyone's first. He's scared he'll hurt me but I laugh at that idea. He's young. He has no idea how resilient we are. Yes, if he gets it wrong I may bleed a little, but the thing he's preparing to slide into me... Lets just say I'll be surprised if I feel much at all. I've taken bigger things than that inside my body. I grin at him. The boy's concern is touching, but he has no idea...

For a moment he's ready to run away it seems. The woman with him smiles forgivingly at him. It's ok, she says. You don't have to if you don't want...

"You do have to", I tell him. "Now? Later? Eventually you'll have to do this and this is what it will feel like, however long you wait." He knows I'm right. It's time.

If I hadn't known, I'd never have guessed I was his first. He slides it into me smoothly and steadily and I was right, I hardly felt a thing. "Is it in yet?" I ask and we laugh together, the three of us. He doesn't look nervous now. His face is still red, but now he's excited, pleased with himself. He'll never be scared of this again, and no matter how many come after me, he'll never forget. First times are special like that.

I lie back and flex my buttocks as they've told me to. I move around, flex my fingers and toes. The boy and the woman walk away. They have others to attend to. I look around me. About a dozen couches fill the hall, roughly half of them occupied, from time to time a name is called and another couch is filled. I see a young girl in leggings and a tartan skirt. Her severe black spectacles and vivid red lipstick take all my attention. Maybe the boy will see to her now. I know he'll be gentle...

Soon it's over and I get up and walk to the far side of the hall. I sit down and accept the traditional cup of tea and biscuits, and that's it. We're done. I walk out of there, a pint of blood lighter. The boy has lost something harder to define...

That's right, it was a blood donor session. What did you think I was talking about?

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