Scared, excited, wondering if the earth will move.

Do we think this is forever? Do we want this? Did we plan this?

The pale sky before dawn, with love and lust standing on their saddles to bang on the shutters. Fate calls our names. Music, candles, flickering images. A moment's pain and then - unbearable sweetness, a shift in consciousness, the world turned upside down.

A giggle, the single condom changing hands in the fumbling dark. Clothes are removed with a feign of preparation, but nerves and anxiousness and our giddy stomachs don't allow us to dwell too long on matters of foreplay or forethought.

The dark and unfamiliarity of this bedroom add to the dizzy drunkenness, half on grocery-store vodka, and half on what evil indulgence we are about to partake in.

I don't remember the sloppy attempts at gentleness, but they must have existed. There is only the drowning pain and instant adrenaline, panic. He was trying his best to afford me comfort, to make me stop regretting, but the dark and the blood and the pain choked me until i pushed him off in haste, struggling to make it end.

I found the light switch and ended the terror. He sat on the navy sheets, pale and thin with fear of what horrors he had caused me, and I stood before him, stark and naked, but forgiving.

The next day, when the darkness and the alcohol had worn off, I felt like the foolish little girl that I was, and it would not be until several months after that he and I were able to abort our initial impressions of sex.

Eternally fixed in my mind: her lips an inch above me, her, tugging me up towards them, in the background a movie that we were just learning how to ignore.

Her right arm outstretched to steady her against the wall, her knees on her brother's bed, on either side of me. The movie is the sole source of light, she is a silhouette of sex which I am about to complete.

And now, little children, a more realistic version of events.

Him: About bloody time... for all the hoop-jumping and feigning interest and sitting through those GODAWFUL films with Hugh Grant and blue-balled evenings holding hands, the payoff is in my sights!

Her: Hehehehehe! It looks like a frozen sausage with that rubber thing on it!

Him: Alright, here goes...

Seventy five seconds later... *wibbly lines*

Both: What a bloody let down!!!!

Source: Multiple personal accounts.

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