He was my first proper boyfriend. We met at university. Rooms on the same floor. Different courses.
We’d fooled around a lot, but mainly fully clothed. Epic dry humping sessions over the summer at his parents house with jeans on, ending up with me wet panted, him soaked in his own cum. Kissing like our lives depended on it.
In his old room the Red Hot Chilli Peppers gazed down on us with socks on their cocks and gave their approval. We’d rub against one another to delicious orgasm without even getting naked. Does anyone even do that anymore? I suspect not.
We decided one afternoon that we were going to do it properly. We got into bed naked together in his dorm room and somehow he got inside me. I wasn’t even wet or aroused. I don’t think it was his first time.
I had no idea that when he got inside, you had to move around a bit. I thought once his cock was in, you had an orgasm. I’d had no sex ed, no tips, no clue about what to do.
He was on top, he did his thing and it was all over. I don’t think I came. I don’t think I felt anything.
Afterwards I went back to my room. Bumped into the guy next door and chatted to him for a while.
My guy got jealous and didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day.
We fucked until he left for Spain in his second year. It was unmemorable, teenage, rudimentary.
It was the first time I count anyway.