The First Time a Man Came Inside Me

After that night with Esteban, I couldn’t get sex out of my head. What we had done—my first blowjob, awkward and exciting at the same time—had left me burning on the inside, with a need I didn’t quite know how to handle. I’d masturbate in the shower with the stream aimed straight at my clit until my knees went weak, before bed I’d shove two fingers into my cunt while I squeezed my nipples with my other hand, sometimes in the afternoon when I got home from work, lying face-down on the bed, rubbing my vulva against the pillow until I came biting the pillowcase. I wanted to fuck the first man who crossed my path.

Nicolás was two years older than me. He had that kind of reputation girls like us repeated among ourselves as a warning: he went out with a lot of them, dumped them, went back with others, and none seemed to last more than two months. I’d seen him a thousand times at the neighborhood bar without paying him much attention, but that summer, with everything that was going through my head, I started noticing him differently.

He began edging closer gradually. He looked at me from afar, sent me some casual message, brushed my arm when he passed near me. I dodged him because I didn’t want to be just another name on his list, but desire does strange things when it’s been locked up too long.

One night I went out with my friends. I drank too much, danced a lot, and when Nicolás came up behind me and slowly ran his tongue along my neck without saying a word, I felt all the skin on my body rise at once. He pressed my hips against his and I felt the hard bulge of his cock outlined against my dress, right between my ass cheeks. I didn’t think. I grabbed his hand and told him I’d go home with him.

***

We got to the door and kissed on the sidewalk. He kissed well, with a confidence that made me a little more dizzy than the alcohol. His hands roamed my waist over my dress, slid down to my hips, squeezed my ass with both hands, and came back up. He pushed his tongue deep into my mouth and I sucked on it like it was something else.

“Let’s go in,” he said, more as a statement than a question.

I pulled away. I’m not quite sure what stopped me. Maybe I didn’t want to make his reputation look so true so easily, or maybe I was simply scared and didn’t dare admit it. I told him no, next time. He looked at me with a smile free of impatience, as if he knew exactly what was going to happen.

When I got into my room and took off my dress, my underwear was soaked through. The fabric of my panties was stuck to my cunt lips as if I’d pissed myself. I took them off and threw them on the floor. I lay on my back, spread my legs, and watched my fingers glisten when I ran them over my slit. I started slowly, drawing circles around my clit, thinking of Nicolás’s mouth on my neck, of how his cock would feel inside me. I pushed two fingers in and arched my back. With my other hand I squeezed one breast, pinched the nipple, tugged at it. I imagined it was him opening me, that it was his tongue licking me, and I came biting my lip, my thighs trembling and my fingers soaked up to the wrist. I fell asleep like that, with my hand still between my legs.

***

The next night I ran into him again at the same bar. My friends already knew about the night before and looked at me with that mix of complicity and anticipation friends have when they know something is about to happen. I drank more than usual. Danced more too.

Nicolás arrived late, with his friends, and took a while to come over. When he did, he came up behind me, put his mouth near my ear and said something I couldn’t quite make out over the music. But I felt the heat of his breath on my neck and I didn’t move. He pressed himself against me and once again I felt the hard cock stuck to my ass, moving just slightly with the rhythm of the music. A sigh escaped me that he definitely heard.

We danced together for a good while. At one in the morning I told him to take me home.

This time I didn’t stop at the door.

“Keep quiet,” I asked him. “I don’t want anyone hearing me.”

He nodded. We went in without turning on the lights.

***

The living room was dark, far from the bedrooms. We threw ourselves onto the sofa and he started unbuttoning my dress from the front, unhurriedly, as if he had all the time in the world. He was kissing my neck while he opened the buttons, and when the dress fell to my waist I was left bare-breasted.

He took a moment to look at me. He said nothing. Then he lowered his head and started sucking my tits slowly, running his tongue around the nipple, biting it just a little, tugging at it with his lips until he made me arch my back. With his free hand he squeezed my other breast, pinched the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, twisted it slightly. I squeezed my eyes shut and held back my moans because I didn’t want to make noise. It was hard to breathe normally.

I felt his body on top of mine, his cock brushing between my legs through my clothes. I told him I liked how it felt. He leaned back, yanked down his pants and boxers in one pull, and kept grinding against me with less fabric in the way. The hot bulk of his cock, now no longer trapped by denim, parted the lips of my soaked cunt just above my panties, not going in, not stopping. Every pass tore a spasm from my lower belly. I could feel myself leaking, feel the fabric sinking into my lips from how wet I was, and he kept moving slowly, rubbing the head of his cock against the swell of my clit.

Then he lifted me up in his arms and took off my dress completely. He stood in front of me to undress. I looked at him. It was the first time I’d seen a naked man in person, completely naked and aroused in front of me, and I stood still for a few seconds not quite knowing what to do with the image. He was hard, pointing upward, thick, with the skin of the head pulled tight and a drop shining at the tip. It seemed bigger than I’d imagined. He grabbed it with his hand and gave it a small shake, unhurried, looking at me while I looked at it.

He came back to the sofa. He opened my legs gently and went down with his mouth: stomach, hip, the edge of my thong. He took it off with his fingers, slowly, and tossed it on the floor.

It was the first time someone had done that to me.

***

He ran his tongue over my lips, parted them, found my clit and started working it in slow circles. His tongue was broad, flat, gliding from the entrance of my cunt up to my clit in one long pass that made me clench my fists. Then he sharpened it to a point and licked me right there, at the tip, with quick, precise strokes. He slipped his tongue inside and back out, changed speed, changed pressure. He slipped in one finger too, then two, and started moving them, curling them upward while he kept sucking on my clit. I had one hand resting on his head, not really knowing whether to push him or hold on to something.

I didn’t know it could feel like this.

A sound escaped me that I couldn’t control. I covered my mouth with my forearm. He didn’t stop. He kept sucking and licking without pause, fingers going in and out, and the wet noise mixed with my strangled breathing. My thighs clamped around his ears without me realizing it, and my breath had gone somewhere else: short, fast, with something building at the center of everything and not giving way.

I tangled my fingers in his hair and held him there, against my cunt, while he sucked harder, pulling my clit between his lips. When I finally let go it was almost without warning, a spasm that ran from my hips to the tips of my toes. I felt my cunt tightening around his fingers, my whole lower belly convulsing in waves, and he kept licking slowly until it passed. I stayed still for a few seconds, breathing hard and eyes closed, feeling his wet chin resting on my thigh.

He lifted his head and looked at me, his mouth shining with me.

“Come here,” I told him. “I want you to be the first.”

***

He settled between my legs. He grabbed his cock with his hand and slowly ran it over my slit from top to bottom, soaking it in my wetness. The tip sank into the entrance and pulled back out, rubbing against my clit each time. Before he really moved, he brought his face close to mine.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. But slowly. It’s my first time.”

He didn’t look surprised. He just nodded, and in that calm there was something that reassured me more than any words could have.

I felt the pressure of his tip against my entrance. A second of resistance, the sensation that something wouldn’t give, and then the opening, flesh parting around his head. I moaned with my mouth closed and concentrated on breathing.

He went in little by little, very slowly, as I’d asked. I felt every centimeter of the cock making its way in, the sensation of being opened by something bigger than my own fingers, warmer, more present. I felt the veins against the walls of my cunt, the thickness parting me, a dull burn that made me grit my teeth. At some point he stopped, with half of him still outside.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded without speaking.

He kept pushing, millimeter by millimeter. When I finally felt him all the way inside—his balls against my ass, his hips touching mine, his full weight on me—I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out slowly.

We stayed still for a few seconds like that, not moving, with him buried to the hilt. I could feel the pulses of his cock inside me, throbbing against the walls of my cunt. He rested his forehead against my temple and waited.

***

He started moving. First very slowly, barely pulling anything out, just a gentle rocking that let me feel every centimeter going in and out. My arms were around his back and I let go of him little by little as the initial pain turned into something else.

Because it turned into something else.

As the rhythm picked up, the heat inside me rose too. His cock went in more easily, sliding, and every thrust tore a gasp from me that I swallowed with my mouth closed. I started moving my hips to find him, without thinking, following what my body wanted, lifting my pelvis so he could go deeper. I dug my nails into his back without meaning to. I kissed him hard on the mouth to muffle the sound that wanted to come out, and he pushed his tongue into mine while he kept fucking me with longer thrusts.

He sped up. He sucked my breasts while he thrust, bit my nipples just a little, lifted my hips with his hands to change the angle. He put one leg over his shoulder and his cock came in from another angle, deeper, touching something inside me that made my mouth open soundlessly. The sofa creaked under us with every thrust. I wasn’t thinking about keeping quiet anymore. I turned my head, clenched my teeth, and wordlessly asked him not to stop, to keep going, to keep doing exactly this.

“Harder,” I whispered against his ear. “Fuck me harder.”

He obeyed. He started driving into me all the way with hard, dry thrusts, his hips slamming into mine with a wet, rhythmic sound, his balls striking my ass on every pull back. He grabbed both my wrists and pinned them against the sofa above my head, and I let him have me like that, open and trapped, while he fucked me faster and faster.

This was it. This was exactly what I’d wanted all that time.

The second orgasm came differently from the first. Deeper, tearing up from the inside, longer too, as if the cock itself were untying it from the center of everything. I felt my cunt clenching around him in spasms, squeezing and releasing him in waves I couldn’t control. I pressed my face into his neck and let myself go completely, fingers buried in his back and legs tight around his waist, biting his shoulder so I wouldn’t scream.

***

Not long after, I felt him coming too. His breathing broke, he quickened the thrusts, his cock got even harder inside me. A couple more faster, harder thrusts, a groan he held back against my skin, and the heat of his load shooting inside me in spurts I felt one by one against the back wall. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, trembling slightly while he finished emptying himself into me. Then he collapsed onto my body without any heavy weight, propping himself up on his elbows, with his cock still inside me, softening slowly.

When it finally came out, I felt a warm thread of semen trickle down my slit toward the sofa. I didn’t care. We stayed tangled together without separating for a good while. He stroked my back slowly, ran his fingers over my hip, along the side of my breast. My eyes were closed and my mind was blank, in that way you only rarely manage.

“How are you?” he asked softly.

“Very good,” I said.

And it was completely true.

***

When he left, I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror for a moment. I expected to feel something different in my face, some visible sign of what had happened. There was nothing. Just a little color in my cheeks and my hair messed up. I looked between my legs: my cunt lips swollen, shining, and a white thread still slowly dripping down my thigh.

I showered slowly, letting the hot water run over my shoulders, between my legs, washing the remains of him down the drain. I got into bed. It took me a while to fall asleep because I couldn’t stop replaying everything in my head: every detail, every sensation, every moment when I’d thought I was going to ask him to stop and hadn’t. Not out of shame. Out of curiosity, like someone who has just discovered something that had always existed and simply hadn’t known.

***

We were together for a few months. We saw each other whenever we could, at his place or mine when no one was around, and over time I learned what I liked and started asking for it without beating around the bush. I learned to tell him to go down on me longer before fucking me, to ask him to take me from behind when I was in the mood, to ride him on top and set the pace until I came twice in a row rubbing my clit against the base of his cock. I also learned to say no when something didn’t interest me. He didn’t complain about either of those things.

In those months I changed more than I could have explained to anyone. My body felt more familiar, more my own. I knew what I wanted and how to get it. Nobody had taught me that before him.

It lasted until a friend told me, with no bad intentions, that she’d seen him with another girl in a downtown bar. Not once: several times. I confronted him directly and he didn’t really deny it.

I told him to get lost.

It hurt for a while, but not too much. That relationship had served its purpose, though not in the way he thought. He had given me the first time I wanted to have, and when it ended, I was already someone else. Not dramatically, not all at once. Just something settled inside me that hadn’t been there before.

From then on I started choosing who I was with and on what terms. Without apologizing for wanting what I wanted. But that’s another story.