My very first boyfriend
was tall and broad shouldered, and he had a clean laundry smell. I was almost 15; he was a year older. He was the first boy I really made out with, which was fun but seemed to be leading up to something I was not really ready for. I told him that sixteen sounded like a good age for me reach before we “went all the way
”, and he seemed to agree. We talked about this future stretch of time as though we would still be together, after all wasn’t our love as big as all that?
Then Mary invited us to spend the night while her mom was out of town. She offered us her room. I was freaked out. We got into her bed, which promptly broke and became useless. There was a ratty rug on the floor and an enormous pile of clothes and papers. The room had old urine smell and felt clammy and stale. This was our love nest.
We made out for about ten minutes and then he excused himself. He came back, running down the basement stairs, a streamer of condom packets trailing behind him like a comet. I braced for impact.
“I thought we agreed it was too soon.” I said.
“I know, but, just in case.”
(Just in case I give in AND we do it ten times?)
Although I was aware that this was something I was not ready for I felt paralyzed. We commenced making out. Clothes were removed. He breathed, “Go down on me, babe.” Babe was the pet name Mary’s boyfriend used for her, and Earen had never called me that before.
Though the favor was never returned, I found myself with a fat, four-inch penis, reminiscent of Oscar’s trash can, in my mouth. I was unsure of how to proceed. It was called a “blow job”, but blowing seemed out of the question. He had his fingers in my hair and began pushing and pulling my head, saying “That’s…good…babe”, with a weird tone in his voice, like he was reading from a prompter, or memorizing lines. Suddenly he clenched his jaw and hissed, “Watch the teeth.”
In my head, the “love” and accommodation dispersed like a fog clearing. I somehow resisted the urge to bite down, HARD. He wouldn’t even kiss me on the mouth and later I thought, if he thought his own dick was that repulsive how did he think I felt? He kissed my neck and breasts, fingered me roughly, then, rather abruptly, he was putting on a condom, and without lubrication and a great deal of pain, I was having sex.
Immediately afterwards he rolled over wrapped himself in the only blanket in the room and left me, cold, shivering, de-virgininzed and stunned.
That was it? That was sex? I dressed and stayed on the floor, looking at Earen’s back all night. I did not go upstairs because I was humiliated. I waited for Earen to wake up and then went upstairs with him.
Mary was making breakfast, smiling at us knowingly. Earen sat down and did not make eye contact with anyone. The tension was unbearable. It was one of those gray, snowy days that are already sort of depressing. Earen went into the living room and sat in a chair, facing the window. I heard Kurt ask him “What the hell is your problem?”
To which Earen replied, “Bad snow.”
After he was gone they made him a tin foil Oscar which they left on his front porch.