The Afternoon I Decided to Give Myself for the First Time

Before I begin, let me introduce myself. My name is Camila, I’m twenty-three years old, and I still remember with a mix of embarrassment and tenderness what happened that October afternoon, when I stopped being the girl my friends laughed at for not having been with anyone.

I grew up in an inland town, far from anything that even remotely resembled the sea. My family was one of those traditional ones, where a daughter doesn’t come home after eleven and where a boyfriend is introduced to the parents before he’s even allowed to go to the movies. All through school I couldn’t be with any boy. Some of my friends had already lost their virginity at sixteen, others at seventeen, and I was the odd one out, the one who locked the bathroom door when they went in to tell details about cocks, cum, and assholes being opened for the first time.

When I got to university, things changed. I’m five foot six, I have big breasts for my frame, a narrow waist, and a firm ass from having spent the last three years going to the gym almost every day. I started noticing the looks in the hallways, in the cafeteria line, on the bus. Some made me uncomfortable; others, I have to admit, I liked. More than one night I slipped my hand into my thong thinking about some classmate, imagining what it would be like to feel a hard cock pushing inside me for the first time.

Six months after starting my degree, I met Mateo. We studied different subjects, but we shared a general class that was held on Wednesdays at seven. He was a little taller than me, fair-skinned, with broad shoulders from swimming, and he had that easy laugh that disarms you. What I liked most was the way he looked at me without rushing anything, as if he knew I needed my time.

We went out for six months without anything happening beyond kisses and touches over our clothes. He never pressured me, though more than once I felt his hard cock pressed against my stomach through his pants when we said goodbye at the entrance to my building. I knew he wasn’t a virgin; he told me the first week, without bragging, almost as a formality. I, on the other hand, dodged the subject. Every time the conversation got close, I changed the channel with some joke or asked him about his little sister.

But I couldn’t take it anymore. At just twenty, after half a year of kisses that kept getting longer, my body had made the decision for me. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to feel his cock inside me, even if just thinking about it tied my stomach in knots and soaked my thong at the same time.

One Thursday afternoon, while we were studying in a café across from the university, Mateo closed his notebook and told me his parents were going to the lake house for the weekend. He said it without looking at me, fiddling with the coffee spoon. I understood perfectly what he was proposing.

—What time do you want me to come over? —I asked, and noticed my voice came out steadier than I expected.

—Saturday afternoon —he replied—. Around five.

***

On Saturday I tried on three dresses before deciding. I ended up choosing a red one I had bought for a party I never went to, with a V-neck that showed quite a bit and a hem that barely covered half my thigh. Underneath, I put on a black lace thong my cousin had given me for my birthday and that I had never dared to wear. I didn’t wear a bra. I wanted to feel different, bold, to be another Camila for an afternoon.

I took a taxi so I wouldn’t have to nervously walk four blocks. When Mateo opened the door, he went silent for a full two seconds, looking me up and down, and then he gave me a smile that was half disbelieving, half hungry.

—Damn, Camila —he said, grabbing my waist to pull me inside—, you’re… you’re incredible.

—You’re not so bad yourself —I told him, laughing from nerves.

The apartment was small and smelled of old wooden furniture. A candle was lit on the low table in the living room and there were two glasses of white wine poured. I sat on the couch with my legs crossed toward him, and he sat so close I could feel the heat of his thigh against mine. We talked for a few minutes about anything at all, but neither of us was paying attention to what the other was saying.

Then he kissed me. It wasn’t a soft kiss like the ones we exchanged at my front door. It was a long, deep kiss, with one hand on the back of my neck and the other resting on my knee. I felt his hand slowly slide up my thigh, asking permission with every inch, and I didn’t deny him.

When he reached the hem of the dress, he hesitated for a second. I stroked the back of his neck to make him keep going. His hand moved up to my breast and, over the fabric, he squeezed my tit carefully. The first squeeze was like an electric current shooting down my spine to my pussy. I let out a sigh against his mouth and felt him smile.

—Are you okay? —he asked, pulling back a little.

—Yes —I said, and bit his lip so he wouldn’t stop.

He pulled my dress down off one shoulder and my tits were left bare, with my nipples already hard as little stones. I watched his eyes widen. I didn’t feel ashamed, but powerful. He lowered his head and started kissing me, first my neck, then my collarbone, until he reached my nipples. He took them into his mouth one by one, sucking them slowly, licking them with the tip of his tongue and then biting them carefully until he had me moaning. Every time his tongue brushed me, a moan escaped from somewhere I didn’t know I had inside me, and I could feel my pussy getting wetter and wetter until it soaked the lace of my thong.

I ran my hand over his thigh, almost by reflex, and slid it up until I felt the hardness under his pants. Mateo closed his eyes and let out a deep breath when I squeezed his cock through the fabric. I touched the bulge, traced it from top to bottom, measured with my fingers how long and thick it was. For a moment I thought there was no way that thing was going to fit inside me, and the idea frightened me and turned me on at the same time. I squeezed harder and he let out a growl against my neck.

—Let’s go to your room —I asked in a whisper.

***

He carried me in his arms as if I weighed nothing. The bed was a double, with a dark blue comforter and two white pillows. He set me down in the middle and stood there looking at me, still dressed. I asked him with my eyes to come closer. He kissed me again, ran his mouth over my neck, my tits, my navel. His fingers slid down my hips to the edge of my thong, and there they stopped.

I had to tell him.

—Mateo —I said, and my voice broke—. There’s something I never told you.

He lifted his head and looked at me, not understanding.

—I’ve never been with anyone —I blurted out, staring at the ceiling—. You’re the first.

He stayed quiet for a long second. Then he settled beside me, pushed a strand of hair off my face, and kissed my forehead with a tenderness that almost made me cry.

—Are you sure you want to? —he asked.

—Yes. But slowly, please.

—Slowly —he promised—. I’m going to fuck you slowly, as slowly as you need.

Hearing him say that, with that raw word coming out of his mouth for the first time, made me press my thighs together. My pussy was throbbing. I took off his T-shirt and kissed his chest, his shoulders, his neck. I fumbled with his pants, unbuttoning them with clumsy fingers, and pulled them down together with his boxers to his ankles. When I sat up and saw his cock for real for the first time, my mouth went dry. It wasn’t huge, but for me, who had never seen one up close, it was an image I would remember for the rest of my life: thick, hard against his stomach, with a pronounced vein running down its length and the shiny tip with a drop of clear fluid leaking out.

He took my hand and guided it to his cock. I gave it a timid caress, then another, more confident. I closed my fingers around it and moved them slowly up and down, feeling the heat of the skin and the hardness underneath. I ran my thumb over the tip and spread that slippery drop over the head. I asked him with my eyes if I was doing it right and he nodded, biting his lip.

—Do you want to try it with your mouth? —he asked, his voice rough.

—I’ve never done it —I replied, almost apologizing.

—You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.

But I wanted to. My friends had told me a thousand times what it felt like to have control over a man while sucking his cock, how they melted with their mouth full, how they begged afterward. And I wanted to know what that was. I knelt between his legs, grabbed his cock with one hand, and ran my tongue over the tip, then along the whole length, slowly, as if it were an ice cream. I licked his balls carefully, one first and then the other, and moved back up along the underside vein to the head. When I worked up the nerve to take it into my mouth, Mateo let out a low groan that convinced me I was doing well.

I sucked him little by little, learning the rhythm. At first just the tip, getting it wet, circling my tongue around the head. Then I started taking more of him in, as far as I could without gagging, and then came back up slowly, sucking hard as I came off. I felt his hand rest on my hair without pressing, just accompanying me, and that gave me the confidence to take him deeper. I lowered my head, raised it, lowered it again, and looked him in the eyes while I did it. I saw his jaw tense, his eyes narrow, the way a gasp escaped him every time my tongue hit a spot just under the head.

—Like that, Camila, like that —he murmured—. Suck me like that.

Hearing him say my name with that broken voice made me squeeze my thighs harder. While I was sucking him, one of my hands slid down on its own to between my legs, pushed aside my thong, and found my soaked pussy. I started rubbing my clit with my fingertips while I moved my mouth up and down his cock. I had never been this wet in my life. My fingers slipped of their own accord, and I could feel the moisture running down the insides of my thighs.

—Come here —he asked, his voice trembling, gently tugging my hair upward—, or I’m going to come in your mouth right now and I don’t want to.

He made me rise to his mouth to kiss me, and it felt strange and at the same time terribly arousing to kiss him with my mouth still tasting like him.

He laid me on my back, pulled my thong off over my feet, and opened my legs with a patience that made me trust him more than ever. He spent a second looking at my pussy, and seeing him look at me like that, with that hunger, made me throb. Before touching me with his fingers, he lowered his head and kissed the insides of my thighs, one and then the other, alternating, moving higher and higher, making me wait. Then his tongue found me and I let out a moan so loud I startled myself.

—Shhh —he said, laughing against my pussy—. The neighbors…

—I don’t care —I told him—. Keep going, please, keep going.

His tongue went up and down, lingering on my lips, going in and out of my entrance as if he were fucking me with his mouth. Then he searched for my clit and circled it without touching it fully, until I lifted my hips, begging. When he finally sucked it, closing his lips around it and sucking slowly, I nearly screamed. He slipped one finger in very carefully, only the first knuckle at first, so I could get used to it, never stopping licking me. Then the whole finger, curling it upward, searching for a spot I didn’t even know existed. I felt something gather in my belly, a current that grew and grew until I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed his hair with both hands, pressed his face against my pussy, and came against his mouth with a moan that came from somewhere very deep inside me. My whole body was shaking, my legs closing around his head on their own, and he didn’t stop sucking my clit until I stopped trembling.

When he lifted his face, his mouth and chin were shining with me. He wiped them with the back of his hand and smiled at me as if he had just won something.

***

Then he sat up and settled between my legs. He took a condom from the nightstand drawer, opened it calmly, and put it on in front of me, sliding the latex slowly over the cock that was still hard as a rod. He rested the tip at the entrance to my pussy and stayed there, looking at me, rubbing it only slightly over my lips, getting it wet with what I had.

—If it hurts, you tell me and I’ll stop —he murmured.

I nodded. He pushed slowly, just the tip at first. I felt a strange pressure, a burn that made me close my eyes and bite my lip. The cock was thick and my pussy resisted, stretching me in a way I hadn’t imagined. Mateo stayed still with just the tip inside, giving me time, letting my body open up. He pushed a little more, a centimeter, two. I dug my nails into his back and took a deep breath.

—Keep going —I asked him—. I’m okay.

Little by little, all of it went in. I felt it making its way to the depths, the burn easing and giving way to a feeling of fullness I had never known. When he was in to the balls, he stopped again and kissed my forehead, my mouth, my cheekbones. Then he started moving, slowly, very gently, sliding almost all the way out and then back in to the hilt, as if he were afraid of breaking me. The initial pain turned completely into pleasure, something warm, full, that made my back arch without me asking it to. I could feel every inch of him going in and out, the vein underneath rubbing my clit each time he thrust.

—More —I asked without thinking—. A little harder.

He started fucking me with more rhythm. The bed began to make a faint sound, a creak in time with the thrusts. My moans also got louder, though I tried to cover my mouth with my hand.

—Don’t cover yourself —he said, pulling my hand away and pinning it to the pillow—. I want to hear you. I want to hear you when I put it in you.

That dirty talk set me on fire. I started moving my hips to meet his thrusts, and every time his pelvis slammed into mine a sharper moan escaped me. He took one tit in his free hand, pinched my nipple, and I felt my pussy tighten around his cock all on its own.

—You’re so tight —he gasped against my ear—. You’re milking my cock with your pussy, Camila.

We stayed like that for a long while, him on top, thrusting at a steady pace, me with my legs opening wider and wider and my hands clinging to his back, leaving nail marks. Then he took my waist, pulled out of me for a second —and I felt a strange emptiness, almost painful, not having him inside— and helped me turn over. He wanted to try it from on top, he said, if I was up for it. I was up for it.

I rode him with both hands braced on his chest, and he guided his cock to my entrance. I sank down slowly, feeling him fill me centimeter by centimeter from another angle, reaching a different place inside me. When I was seated all the way down, with his balls resting against my ass, I stayed still for a moment, breathing. Then I started moving, first with slow rocking back and forth, rubbing my clit against his pubic bone, and little by little I began to bounce up and down with more confidence.

Feeling it go in and out, having control of the rhythm myself, seeing his face while I drove it into me, was something I’ll never forget. I grabbed his hands and brought them to my tits so he could squeeze them. I started riding him harder, bouncing on top of him, and every time I dropped down a little “ah” slipped out of me that I no longer bothered to hide. Seeing his face, his eyes closed, his mouth open, hearing him say my name in broken breaths, made me understand what girls meant when they talked about power. I had a cock inside me that he had let me use however I wanted, and he was the one begging.

—That’s it, Camila, ride me like that —he growled—. You’re killing me.

I felt I was about to come again. I brought one hand down and rubbed my clit while I kept rising and falling on top of him. When I got there, I clamped my pussy around the cock with all the strength I had and collapsed onto his chest, trembling, with spasms racing up and down from my belly to my legs.

When he warned me he was about to finish, his voice already broken, he carefully lifted me up, moved me off him, and yanked the condom off. Without thinking, I grabbed his cock with my hand and started jerking him off, tight, fast, looking him in the eyes. I helped him finish over my stomach and tits. I watched his whole body tense, saw him throw his head back, and felt the hot jets of semen splashing onto my skin, one, two, three, a weaker fourth, until he stayed still, breathing hard. I ran my thumb over the tip to get the last drop out and looked down at my body, splattered white, feeling dirty and beautiful at the same time.

Then he collapsed beside me, panting, and stared at the ceiling with a goofy smile. He brought me a towel from the bathroom and cleaned me himself, slowly, with that same tenderness as before.

I leaned against his shoulder. I didn’t say anything for a long while. I was trying to sort out everything that had happened in less than two hours. The girl who had walked through that door at five in the afternoon was not the same one lying there now, with her pussy throbbing, her thighs sticky, and the taste of a cock still in her mouth.

I was with Mateo for almost another year. After that, life took us down different paths, as it tends to at that age. But that October afternoon in his apartment remains, even now, one of the most beautiful things that ever happened to me. Not because of the technique, or the duration, or how intense it was. Because of the patience. Because of the way he waited for me, the way he let me decide, the way he made me feel like my first time was a gift and not an obligation.

Later there would be other stories, other men, a woman too, and experiments I never would have imagined at twenty. But that one, the first, I owe entirely to him.