A First Timer’s Tale

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Erotic stories,first time, A First Timer’s Tale.. I’ll be honest. After all, isn’t that sort of the whole point of this place? To be a place where we can finally be honest? And in all honesty, I just don’t get the appeal of wanting to read about somebody’s first time. To me, it’s a hell of a lot more fun to read about when at least one or more has a clue beyond a general idea of what goes where.

But, maybe that’s just me. I don’t know. It seems like a lot of people want to hear about those stumbling fumbling bumbling real “no shit, true story” first times any road, so here goes.

Oh, yeah. Almost forgot. All people engaging in coitus in what follows are over eighteen. The following is pretty much what happened to my recollection although it’s only my side of things and about as true as any eyewitness account, with one small proviso. Names and places and a few identifying marks have been switched up to blah blah blah.

Fuck it. That’s enough of that shit. Let’s get on with it.

I guess maybe I might have had chances to see what all the fuss was about earlier than I did. God knows I was interested, but that should hardly be a surprise. A teenage boy interested in sex. Go figure. And I found out years later that some of the girls I stayed in contact with were interested back then.

But, I never got further than some kissing and touching the odd tit over at least two layers of clothes. Odd as it may sound, I was the one who stopped it and didn’t allow it to go any further than that.

And it didn’t actually have more than just passing to do with being a good Baptist boy. Sure, I was a holy rollin’ Bible thumper in the buckle of the Bible Belt and was a mite more serious about it than the ones who brought their hangover to church on Sunday because that’s what we were supposed to do.

But, sex went beyond just a mere temptation for me. Hell, might as well say I was “tempted” to take a deep breath when I surfaced from swimming the length of the pool scrapping my belly along the bottom. Before I discovered nightly controlled masturbation would fix the mess, I had “wet dreams” every night.

Just about the only thing that held me back from crossing that Rubicon at an earlier age I think was being adopted.

“What the hell does your sorry ass being adopted have to do with anything, Dumbshit? Get to the good part!”

Well, frankly, I was the result of a pair of fifteen year old kids getting frisky and doing some exploring and “whoops! Working as the factory intended.” I guess they could have aborted me. While rarer back then, abortion wasn’t unknown. Instead, they gave me up for adoption.

And don’t get me wrong. I love my family. They are my real parents in every way that matters, God keep their souls. And I never once doubted that I was loved and treasured by them so long as they lived.

But, I also know that my sperm and egg donor tossed me aside like a used condom or tampon.

And I would not, could not possibly, risk passing that along to another possible child. Nope. Nope. Nope. I could wait to have sex until I got together with someone whom we were both willing to stick by each other and raise a kid together for the next eighteen years, if one happened.

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