My first car was a hunter green 1994 Ford Explorer with tan interior, stained seats, and a broken sunroof that dripped in a storm. I was peeling down my street getting drenched by the rain coming through the crack in the roof of my truck. I rolled through stop signs, ran over speed limits, leaned heavy on the gas. I was a senior in high school, wearing out the black-clad troubled drummer look like it was my fucking job. Hair gelled, beard quaffed, and body drenched in Hugo Boss, I was ready. Today, I was getting laid.
This girl was incredible. We’d dated for a while a few years back, one of those relationships that were definitely heated but never consummated. Simultaneously, though, we had to go about our sexual tussles in the most amateur ways possible. By this, I mean pulling a classic behind-the-tree hand job before we had to be home at eight o’clock on a school night, or daring to skip class and hook up in the prop room during a sophomore theater class. I know – fucking badass, right? But now we were older and talking again. In addition, we were both more sexually experienced (especially her, she had an eclectic-hot girl-red lipstick wearing-cigarette smoking-dick sucking phase our Junior year). It was time to get it in.
So I finally arrived at her house. She came out in an old t-shirt that slouched over her shoulder, showing off her smooth neck that I wanted to nibble the living hell out of. She stared me down as she walked to the curb in those tight black shorts and combat boots, getting soaked in the rain and still managing to not give a shit. She finally reached the door and swung it open; she sat down casually but well aware of the fact that I couldn’t take my focus off her slick wet legs. She turned to me and let out a breathy “hey,” her eyes lingering on mine as I swallowed hard trying to force myself to answer. All I could manage was a head nod, maybe a mild smirk, before we set off for my basement.
My mom was going to be gone for the night, so we had an entire man-cave to ourselves. Naturally, I wanted to get there as quickly as humanly possible. Typically, I’m a masterful driver. But this chick had me royally distracted. I took a wrong turn going to my own fucking house, skimmed a curb when I took a right turn, and almost hit my cat while pulling into my driveway (she likes to hide under my car every so often, consequently meaning she likes to flirt with death). Nonetheless, we were finally there.
Before I could even close my front door, this girl had me against my living room wall. We were throwing each other against furniture, running our nails down each other’s chests, biting lips and nipping ears. As we made our way down to the basement, clothes were flying off everywhere. At one point, I had her in the air against my fridge, thrusting her against it so hard that the force knocked a box of Reeses Puffs onto the tile floor. Just as the cereal had exploded onto the ground, I, too, was ready to fucking burst. We needed to get downstairs.
Finally we made it to my bed; she was down to black boy shorts and smudged dark lipstick. My glasses were fogged just from fucking looking at her; she had to be annihilated. I took her panties off with my teeth (true story – that happens – WHADDUP), more than ready to show her what three years of experience had prepared me for. I threw open my sock drawer (because who doesn’t keep their condoms with their socks), tore open a rubber, and slipped it on in one swift motion.
She pushed me down and hopped on top of me, swinging her leg over my body and pressing my fingers into her hips as we got to work. She wasn’t showing any mercy, biting her lip and staring me straight in the face as we were rocking my headboard into the wall. I was so into the moment; I’d been waiting for this for weeks, maybe even months. I was so consumed by the fact that it was finally happening, that I didn’t even realize how soft I was.
She stopped riding me to make sure I was alright, and with due cause; why the fuck would any heterosexual, hot-blooded male have a problem getting hard for a hot, naked, willing girl? I had no idea what the hell was going on. We tried everything; there was no lick or tickle that was going to get me hard enough to satisfy her.
Naturally, I compensated in other ways to make up for the fact that I was fucking mortified (chivalry isn’t dead, never send a girl home unsatisfied). Eventually, we just lay next to each other and shared a cigarette. I took her home a few hours later, and that was that.
When people ask me, I tell them that we had raunchy, delicious, and at the very least, successful sex. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m embarrassed that I couldn’t keep it up, or if I eventually just convinced myself that it had actually happened. I just wanted her so badly for such a long time that once I had the chance to take her for myself, I couldn’t accept the idea of blowing that chance.
Guys are often underestimated when it comes to sex, degraded to the point that girls think we’re just going through the motions. Granted, some guys do, but other guys (myself being one of them) seek to please. There’s a lot of pressure to perform, and maybe that’s what got to me. We never tried having sex afterwards; neither of us ever pressed it. Nonetheless, whatever happened, I know I could have had her; in that moment, she was mine. For that night, this indescribably confident, aggressive, sexy girl wanted me, and sometimes that’s enough.