16 August 2011

Home Run


            The first time I got to first base, I was in fourth grade.  His name was Kurt and he was obsessed with me.  Kurt followed me around school and the playground, just waiting for opportunities to strike.  He acted like a puppy that obnoxiously attacks its owner with slobbery kisses every chance he gets. 
            One day, he took four chances to kiss me and was successful in every single one.  Outside before school started, he snuck up on me and planted a wet kiss on my cheek, a kiss that froze on my face because it was -25° below that day.  I kicked him and told him he was stupid.  He told me he loved me.
            The second chance was at lunch while we were in line waiting for our food trays.  Another wet kiss on the cheek almost made me lose my appetite.  I told him he made me want to throw up and he said he still loved me.
            The third kiss on the cheek was during a special assembly we had at the high school that day.  The lights were off and we were watching a school play, so the setting was sort of romantic I guess.  I told him to be quiet and he asked me to marry him.
            And the fourth chance was on the bus ride back to school.  He somehow charmed me into sitting next to him in the back of the bus and that was when he kissed me on the mouth.  Crazy thing is, I actually kissed him back.  If a boy was going to try to kiss me on the mouth that many times in one day, I had to kiss him back.  I liked his persistence and it wasn't the first or last time I was chased and pursued by a boy.  Even though I was a tomboy and had a boy haircut, I was a hot commodity among the boys in my grade.  But I have always been pretty selective with whom I share my mouth.
            The first time I got to second base was in eighth grade.  His name was Austen and he had longer hair than I did.  He was determined, asking me for months to go steady with him.  I finally agreed to go out with him if he cut his hair; I didn't want my boyfriend to have longer hair than me (his mom was a new age hippie; therefore, so were her kids).  And he happily obliged.  He took me to see the movie Seven on Valentine's Day, brought me a candle that smelled like a nursing home, and copped a feel of my microscopic breast, arm over the shoulder in a dark movie theater style. 
            Austen and I "dated" for a few months in junior high, then occasionally in high school.  He was my second and third baseman actually.  We logged many hours of heavy petting and we got far enough for me to discover that he was not circumcised.  It was the first and last time I ever saw a turtle in its shell.  But I still didn't have sex with him.  We came close but I just wasn't ready. 
            I might have some not so desirable personality traits, but at least I can say I was never "easy".  Most of my friends were extremely sexually active towards the end of junior high and all throughout high school.  A few girls in school were already pregnant! Sure, I liked dating and getting attention from boys just as much as the next girl, but I also liked being a kid and enjoying my childhood.  I was in no rush to grow up and let some cocky teenager have my V-card.  Or get an STD.  Or get pregnant.  I was barely halfway through puberty myself; I was so not ready for sex.  Making out, dry humping, and an occasional hand down the pants action was plenty for me. 
            Besides, I didn't want to waste my first time having sex with any of the boys I went to high school with.  These were boys I knew too well and in a small town, the rumor mill is rather large.  One of my friends had finally had sex for the first time with her long-term boyfriend after prom our junior year.  She told a friend who told someone else and so on.  It turned into a game of telephone and by the time it got back to me three hours later, I heard that she had was a hermaphrodite who had an orgy with her boyfriend, one of the female math teachers, and the janitor.  Clearly (hopefully) none of it was true.  Once I went to college I could only hope there would be a huge selection for me to pick from (and the rumor mill would be much smaller so when I did have sex for the first time, rumors wouldn't spread around campus like wildfire or Chlamydia.)
            And indeed there was.  I had never seen so many attractive guys in one place.  If I wanted, I had my pick of the crop.  I had come into my femininity by then and had a rocking body.  Add that to a killer personality and any awkward college boy could be mine.  As my luck would have it, it didn't happen that way.  There were guys who escorted me on a date or to a house party, guys I made out with, but it never went any further than that.
            I was nineteen, a freshman in college, when I made it around all four bases.  Home run.  But it wasn't with a college boy.  I lost my virginity to a boy I went to high school with.  Something I swore I would never do but ended up doing anyway.  If it were possible to kick my own ass, I would have.
            I had gone to my hometown for a visit one weekend, hooked up with my friend Amanda, and headed off to a friend's house. Jason and Chance, two guys we went to high school with, shared a house together and had invited Amanda over that night.  Amanda still lived in town and since I was in town visiting, I figured why not?  I hadn't seen either of the boys in quite some time, so it was nice to catch up. 
            Jason was hopelessly in love with me all through out high school.  He went to a neighboring high school, but we had mutual friends.  No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't reciprocate the feelings.  Although Chance and I also had mutual friends in high school, we weren't really friends.  But that night, you wouldn't have known any different.  We started a fire in the fire pit, played catch up, and drank ice-cold beer.  We talked about college, jobs, dating, gossip, etc.  Before we knew it, the alcohol had kicked in and our inhibitions were thrown into the fire. 
            After Amanda and I started giggling and acting goofy after a few beers, they started teasing us, claiming we couldn't hold our alcohol.  Well, they seriously underestimated us.
            "Just because we're girls doesn't mean we can't drink, and drink a lot," Amanda said.
            "Yea right.  You're probably a two beer queer!" Chance exclaimed. 
            I personally took offense to that.  I'm an Irish gal and we Irish take pride in our drinking abilities.  It was time for a challenge.
            "Why don't we have a case race?" I suggested.
            "What's that?" Jason asked.
            " We each have a case of beer and whoever finishes first wins. Boys against girls," I explained.
            "What technically makes a case? Twelve or twenty-four beers?" Jason asked.
            "Technically, twenty four.  But from the looks of the cooler, it looks like we only have about three 12-packs in there, let's just do twelve beers each team," I said.  We all agreed.
            "What do we win?" Chance asked, winking at me.  I sneered back at him, annoyed that he would doubt my Irish abilities. 
            "Bragging rights.  And I should warn you, we can drink you boys under the table," I replied.  It was true; Amanda and I could definitely hold our alcohol.  We divided up the beers, twelve each, and started the case race.  In less than twenty minutes, Amanda and I had chugged three beers each and were already ahead of the boys.  They had only finished two each.
            "Drink up assholes!" I said, crushing an empty beer can, belching like a fat redneck NASCAR fan and throwing it across the fire pit at them.  Jason and Chance looked surprised that two girls were in the lead.  Or they were just surprised a thundering belch could come out of someone my size.
            "Hike up your skirts!" Amanda yelled at them, opening another beer.
            "I'm not worried.  You will be throwing up like a pregnant woman after that next beer.  I know it," Chance said.  Amanda and I exchanged glances and broke out in hysterics.  Little did they know we had eaten an entire pizza before we went to their place, so we were loaded up on carbs to soak up the alcohol.  Rookies we were not.
            Obviously, the boys lost the case race.  They had nothing on us.  The guys were absolutely embarrassed. Two girls had beaten them in a sacred man sport.  Drinking beer wasn't something most girls enjoyed, let alone competed in.  But then again, Amanda and I aren't normal females. 
            We sat around the fire for a while longer throwing out insults and taking turns stoking the fire.  Jason ended up excusing himself to the bathroom, which we all made fun of him for.  After what seemed like an hour we all went looking for him and found him passed out under the kitchen table.
            "What a pussy," we said in unison as Amanda drew a penis on the cheek that was facing up and I pulled his pants down so his ass was hanging out. 
            For the rest of the night, it was just Amanda, Chance, and I sitting around the fire, drinking and talking until Chance mentioned he had walkie-talkies in the house. The rest of the evening we ran around drunk in the woods with our walkie-talkies.  Eventually, we lost track of Chance.  Amanda and I eventually got tired and after we both tripped over the same log and knocked the wind out of ourselves, we made our way back to the house.  When we walked back in the house we found Jason had actually woken up off the floor and was putting hot dogs on a plate to cook out by the fire.
            "I thought you were passed out.  When I said we could drink you under the table, I didn't mean it literally!" I teased him. 
            "I tripped and fell on my way back from the bathroom.  And then I was too lazy to get back up so I must have passed out," he said.  Clearly he didn't realize he had genitalia drawn on his face, nor did he question why his pants had been pulled down to his knees when he had awoken.  Amanda and I were whispering and laughing to each other while Jason pulled the wieners out of the package, another thing we also found downright hilarious.
            "Where's Chance?" I asked Jason after I managed to stop laughing.  He shrugged and headed back outside towards the fire.  Amanda said she was following Jason back out by the fire pit.  She was not one to turn down a wiener (food or male organ).  I was drunk, not hungry, so I organized a one-woman search party for Chance.  I hoped he was in the house and not lost in the woods somewhere.
            I looked in closets, the living room, and the bathroom.  I even looked outside by driveway and when I couldn't find him, I went back to the fire pit.
            "Where's Chance? I think we lost him in the woods Amanda!" I yelled, starting to freak out. 
            "Simmer down.  He's probably puking in the bathroom like Jason was earlier," Amanda said, laughing.
            "I was not puking! I had to take a shit!" Jason defended himself.
            "If he is really drunk and got lost in the woods, he will probably die and then we'll go to prison and become someone's bitches!!!" I exclaimed, my drunken hysteria on orange alert.
            "Calm down KC.  Did you check the house?" Jason asked, holding multiple wieners over the fire. 
            "Of course! He's nowhere in there!"
            "What about his bedroom?"
            "Oh shit." I felt like an idiot.  "By the way, you have a dick on your face and you're holding three wieners over the fire.  Now who's the idiot?" I yelled at Jason before I ran back into the house, hearing Amanda's cackle and Jason's whining echoing in the yard.  The most logical place to look for him would have been his bedroom, but that was the last place I looked.  I opened the door slowly and peeked around it and there he was, lying on his bed naked and watching Adult Swim on TV.
            "What happened to you?  I though you were lost and dead in the woods! And why are you naked?" I asked him, standing in his doorway.
            "What are you talking about? I was never in the woods! I've been here for at least an hour now!"
            "Yes you were! We even had walkie-talkies to keep track of each other!"
            "No, that was just you girls.  I never left the fire pit.  You guys were just so excited when I told you I had walkie-talkies in the house that you just ran inside and never came back out to the fire pit, so I got bored and came inside," he explained. 
            I stood there and thought for a second and it all came back to me.  He was correct; once we heard the word walkie-talkies, we bolted inside and headed out the front door to test them out.  We were too preoccupied saying "wiener" instead of "Roger" and farting into the walkie-talkies to realize Chance had not come with us.
            "Oh.  Well, why are you naked?" I asked him.
            "I fell on my way inside and my clothes were dirty," he explained.
            "You fell? Is that because you had too many beers you pansy?" I teased him.
            "No! It was because it's all muddy right by the steps and I lost my footing!" he said defensively.
            "Both you and Jason are falling down drunks tonight!" I said, shaking my head.
            "Fuck off," Chance said, laughing.  He sat up a bit straighter in bed and by doing so he completely exposed himself. 
            "You still haven't answered my question.  Why are you naked? You don't even have boxers on!" I said nervously, my voice several octaves higher than normal.
            "I sleep naked."
            I was starting to feel a curious and tingling sensation in my naughties, which is weird because I was not attracted to Chance.  Sure, he was cute but to me, he was just one of the guys.  He had gotten a little chubbier from the last time I had seen him in high school and he always reminded me of a hedgehog.  So I have absolutely no logical explanation or reason for what I said next.
            "Can I be naked with you?"
            I'm not even entirely certain I was horny either; my original plan was to just make sure Chance was accounted for and head back out to the fire with Amanda and Jason.  Then I got curious and figured since I was nineteen, and the opportunity was literally standing erect in front of me, I should just do it.
            Chance nodded his head eagerly at my question.  He moved over and put his hands behind his head as if he was expecting a strip show.  I had enough alcohol in me to be confident about anything, so I slowly stripped off my clothes.  At least I thought I was "stripping".  My stripping is about as sexy as watching a toothless lunch lady and a bald janitor have sex in a dumpster.  It was clumsy, awkward, and it took me far too long to take off my own bra.  At one point my foot got caught in my jeans and I fell face first onto his bed.
            Chance and I lay on his bed face to face, smiling and flirting for an eternity before he made the first move.  He attacked my face like a honey badger attacks his prey. According to the You Tube sensation Randall, a honey badger doesn't give a shit, he just takes what he wants (if you've never seen Randall's honey badger video, it's time you click this link, and watch. Come back when you're done).  And that's exactly what Chance did.  Chance came at me, mouth wide open, and kissed me with more teeth than lips and before I knew it, I was in full on mouth attack mode.  He didn't give a shit if he bruised my lips or tore my jaw apart with his molars.
            We awkwardly fondled each other's body parts for a few minutes, him more than me.  His boobs may have been a wee bit bigger than mine (which means they were actually pretty small) and I had no interest in touching those.  Then Chance crawled on top of me and he was as hard (and as heavy) as a rock.  For a while, we did nothing but rub our naked bodies together and exchange sloppy, wet kisses (similar to the kisses I got from Kurt back in fourth grade).  It was pathetic, really.  We might have been the first two humans in existence to not know how to have sex.  Had we recorded ourselves, I can only imagine that it would have been the worst sex tape this world has seen since Dustin Diamond released his sex tape.
            While we were kissing and rubbing, I felt Lil' Chance poking at my inner thighs so I opened to let him in and suddenly felt an uncomfortable pressure and realized a minute later that Chance and I had committed a cardinal sin of one-night stands.  He loved it before he gloved it and somehow I let him.   
            "What the fuck!?!?" I yelled loudly in his ear and slapped his cheek. What the hell were we thinking, not using a condom?
            "What?"
            "Hello! I'm nineteen! I don't want to be a teen mom! You have two seconds to get out of me and put on a rubber!"  It would be just my luck to get pregnant the first time I had sex and I wasn't about to let that happen.
            "Oh shit! I'm so sorry! I didn't even realize!" he said, scrambling to get a condom out of his nightstand.  He put that thing on in record time and before I knew it, he was pounding me like a jackhammer.  I was still seething about my near pregnancy when I felt Chance tense up, heard him grunt and then exhale.
            It was over in less than thirty seconds.  I only know that because the whole time, I watched a mini infomercial that said if I called within the next thirty seconds, I could receive not one, but two Ginsu knives!  What a bargain!
            When he was done, he rolled off me, sweatier than a fat girl playing beach volleyball in the summer heat (I should know; I did just that three weeks ago).
Honestly, by offering to get into bed naked with him, I only expected/wanted some dry humping and maybe a little oral sex, but I certainly did not expect to hand over my V-card so easily like it was a used baseball card to be traded.  Stupid, I know.  What else do two naked adults do in bed besides have sex?  Talk about the weather? Exchange investment advice?  Argue the benefits of added fiber in your diet?  Sleep? No. They fuck. Plain and simple.
But since the opportunity had arisen, I figured why not?
            I wish I could say my first time was more magical than a unicorn who pisses a rainbow, but it wasn't.  I wish I could say we "made love" for hours upon hours, like most romantic comedies suggest, but that shit only happens on TV.  I wish I could say I enjoyed it and had an orgasm, but I can't.  I had had more orgasms while dry humping in high school and simply by masturbating so the first time I had actual sex I expected mind-blowing release.  I guess Chance forgot there were two of us there and I was not just a blow up doll. He had no idea how to please a lady, or at the very least, wait for her to catch up! 
            My first home run was a complete and total letdown.  I had heard friends talk about multiple orgasms, sex positions, and generally just how amazing sex really was.  But if that was any indication of what my future sexcapades would be like, I was so not interested.  Even my friend Amanda was (still is) a nymphomaniac, so I was beyond confused.  Why was everyone else enjoying sex but me?  Plus, was anyone else feeling as sore as I was?  I didn't do anything but lie there like a rag doll and I felt like I had taken up horse riding overnight.  My legs were stiff and sore and I was pretty sure I pulled a muscle in my back and in my butt cheek.
            It didn't take me long to figure out why I hated sex.  A couple weeks after my first time, I had met a cute boy in class and went to a house party with him.  I went to his off campus apartment and had a fantastic one-night stand!  Sex lasted for hours and it was insanely incredible.  I soon realized that it was Chance who was terrible at sex, not me.  Turns out, I was great in the sack!  I knew all the right ways to move my hips, all the right places to kiss, and the best positions!  It all came naturally to me.  I didn't hate sex; I just hated sex with Chance. 
            Come to find out, someone actually enjoyed having sex with him.  And that person was Tina, his girlfriend.  Since I no longer lived in my hometown, I was not privy to certain information, like local gossip.  But when I told my sister Kate that I had made the mistake of sleeping with Chance, she informed me that Chance and Tina were dating and she was pregnant.  That explained why he didn't put on a condom before he penetrated me.  He was used to having sex without protection. 
            When I went home a couple months later for Thanksgiving, I went to a holiday party with my sister and Tina was there.  I had known Tina since she was in kindergarten; she was in my sister's grade and we had gone to school together all our lives.  She was one of the sweetest people I've ever known, but as soon as our eyes locked, I knew she knew.  Tina is a petite little thing, but I had never been so scared of anyone in my life.  She walked towards me, slowly picking up speed and I looked around for reinforcements, but all my friends had suddenly disappeared.
            "So, have sex with anyone's boyfriend lately?" she asked, her face stone serious.
            "Uh...um...well, what? I don't, I mean, what? Excuse me, I have to um, I'm not sure," I stuttered and it's quite possible I let out a nervous fart.  For the life of me, I could not come up with an excuse, form a complete sentence, or come up with a clever comeback, three things I normally excelled at!
            "Chance told me what happened," Tina said. 
            I did the most logical thing I could think of.  I denied the whole thing. 
            "There's no point in denying it KC.  He told me what happened," Tina repeated.
            Shit.  Was I more embarrassed that I had terrible sex with her boyfriend or was I ashamed that I simply had sex with her boyfriend?  My moral compass was not responding.
            "I'm really sorry Tina.  Had I known you and Chance were dating, there's no way I would have played blow up doll for him," I said. 
            "It was that bad?" Tina asked, her humor surprising me.
            "I'm not sure.  It all happened so fast. Literally."
            She laughed.  "Chance isn't at all sexy in bed when he's drunk.  I actually feel sorry for you that you were exposed to that," Tina said.
            "No, I'm sorry you willingly expose yourself to that regularly!" I retorted.
            Turns out, Chance and Tina had been having problems and that specific weekend so they didn't consider themselves a couple.  They got back together two days later.  I wonder if I had sparked some sort of jealousy in their relationship. 
            I'm not the type of person to agree with most adages, but I really do believe you should save your V-card for that special person, not simply because you feel like you should have sex or especially because you're drunk and horny.  Trust me, it's not worth it.  It never is. 
            I've had more than a few sexual partners in my life and hundreds of home runs, but I learned a lot from my first time with Chance.  I guess having sex with him was actually a blessing in disguise.  I learned the difference between good and bad sex, length versus girth (Chance had neither), and to always ask if that person was dating/engaged/or married. Being a home wrecker is so last year.  I got lucky that Tina was so nice to me about boning her beau; fat chance I'd ever get that lucky again.
           
           






           

2 comments:

CelticLady said...

Oh boy!!!! lol

Blogger said...

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