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But he walked fast and was a few steps ahead of me, so I took double steps, stumbling to keep up with him.

I nodded in the dark, understanding what it did and didn't mean, what I was worth and did and didn't deserve. When I got to my house, I walked up the front steps and through the door, shutting it quietly behind me.

Leaning back against the door, I slid to the ground. Feeling the cool tile against my face, I curled up into a ball on the entryway floor, wrapped my arms around my knees, and cried.

I told some of my friends about that night, but as if it had just been normal hooking-up. Then more people found out and teased me about it, as if I was promiscuous, slutty.

At 15 years old, I didn't understand what had happened. I'd had a crush on Patrick for so long and all I'd wanted was for him to notice me, to kiss me, and he finally did, only something had gone wrong.

There was no label for what he did so it became a violation I couldn't name, and I could convince myself that it wasn't a big deal.

I made one appointment with the school counselor to talk about it, but I never told my friends how scared I felt in the woods, or how sad I felt afterwards.

It wasn't until I was in my late 20s that I told my therapist about it, and I was in my 30s before I ever told the full story to friends. But I've learned that the more I talk about it, the less power it has.

Sex has never felt safe to me; it feels like a precursor to being hurt, abandoned, and rejected, which is what it's turned out to be again and again.

Looking back, I can't say that this one incident is solely responsible for damaging my sexuality and destroying my ability to trust.

But I sometimes wonder if my first sexual experience had been different, kinder, I would have been able to make better choices about the men I got involved with, could have gone down a different path.

More than 20 years later, I don't often think about what happened on that spring night. But it's stayed with me anyway and comes back in my dreams, especially when I start to date someone.

A few months ago, the night before my first date with a guy I'd known for a while and really liked, I had the dream again.

It's almost always the same. I'm back in those woods, and Patrick's there, too, a few steps ahead of me as I wind down the dirt path, stumbling in the dark.

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By Melissa Petro. Jul 10, By Bryanne Salazar. Jun 28, This Is My Story. The year is and we masturbate with the mini-computers we carry around in our pockets.

By Krista McHarden. So I introduced myself and looked round at them, these fifteen and sixteen year old kings. We chatted and Paul, the least cute one of the four, but still quite fuckable, seemed rather interested.

I remember mentioning I'd been in such a hurry slipping out of my house unnoticed I hadn't even worn underwear! My palm over my cherry holding lips.

Then a miracle occured. Kevin Gotro, uber-king of the surfers of Laguna Beach, Mark's older brother, all eighteen hunky years of him appeared.

He tousled Mark's hair complaining that his little brother's party was all there was to do that night. His skin so tan it made freckles in his cheeks, where his cheekbones lit, he stood above us in all his six footed glory with his strong broad shoulders and his golden eyes danced as if he were a wise old man and we were all just a bunch of silly gullz and boyz drinking kool-aid.

I didn't say anything to him. I just stared at him. I asked his brother which room was his. Mark grinned and loudly announced my query, exactly as I knew he would.

Kevin grinned at me. I just stared. He said "you wanna see? We went upstairs. I had fantasized about this for half my life up till that point.

I was going to be a tigress. I would say all sorts of brilliant and witty quips. But instead what flicked through my mind was an episode of the Wonder Years that had played last night.

Where he'd stood with Winnie on a hill and they were finally, fucking Finally, going to tell each other they liked each other. They stood on the hill and he drew circles with his foot.

It symbolized shyness, and deep feelings of adoration that could not be spoken. In the bedroom there was thin shitty carpeting and my foot tried to draw circles, I tried to be the sweet innocent girl with the older man, but my foot kept catching on the carpet and I must have looked really foolish.

He stared at me grinning for a while. Then he went up to the bed, which was a bunk bed. He didn't use the bottom, the bottom was removed for space.

The lights were out. We kissed up there in the top corner of his room. It was the very first time I'd ever french kissed.

It was like swimming underwater in a simmering cave. I forgot about sex, I just wanted to kiss him.

I never wanted to stop kissing. At that point in my life I masturbated probably two or three times a day at minimum. Somedays I just let myself have it all afternoon.

Being a latchkey kid and all. So I really only thought I wanted sex, but then I dove into his mouth and never wanted to come out.

Light came in through the window and I would open my eyes for just a moment to glimpse him, afraid he'd stop if he saw my eyes. But his remained closed, and I stole more and more glances, astounded that I was kissing such a handsome man.

Then Andy came in. With a girl. I didn't look down, but I knew, he'd found a girl with big tits. Kevin said nothing he just kept kissing me and I sure as hell wasn't going to stop him.

We moved our tongues and felt each others bodies while we listened to Andy get her breasts. She was resisting, stupidly, trying to make the situation more than it was.

As if she weren't making out at a kegger in a room with other people in it. He was being as insensitive as a sixteen year old charmed shit can be.

She was as secure of herself as any fifteen year old would be: does he really just want me for my tits?

Yes sweetie, he does. And It's Ohhhkayyy. Finally she relented and in the silence we felt him grope her to his heart's content.

Our tongues still rolling like the waves he surfed, this made Kevin huge and by then we were naked. I was more wet than I'd ever been before, so much so it blew my mind.

In the streetlight I saw his form mount over me, and my engorged lips hung open mouthed at the sight. It was heaven that form in that lighting, above me, about to take me.

The girl below me said, "Andy", and Kevin glanced down for a second, which meant he had to whip his hair back across his face to clear his eyes, which was music.

My legs were too close, and he fumbled trying to get in, and then he pushed. It was the most painful thing I'd ever felt. I felt I'd broken bones, I'd never walk again, I felt the heat of the body's reactions to pain well like a pool over my pelvis, with Andy below I tried to not to make a sound, I tried to whisper, Please, no, it hurts too much, take it out.

Andy's voice bolted up as he rose from his molesting, "Yeaaah! Kevin was not to be distracted. He tried to soothe me, petting my hair back from my forehead saying he just needed to be gentle and slow and then it would be good.

He tried to pull him out slowly and even that felt like I was being torn at. I let him push in once more and it felt no better, which seemed the cruelest joke of the gods to be played on me of many well done ridicules.

I begged him off, with him becoming invisible to me in my despair. He laid back and whined, "Well, can, you, at least, suck it?

I'd never done that before, of course, and the results were hysterical. Since all I'd ever heard was "suck it" and "blow job" I actually thought you just sucked it like a lollipop.

No up or down, just put your mouth around it and suck, come up for air, apparently, as it turned out to be necessary to do, and then - blow?

So, I sucked like a vaccuum, squeezing it tighter and tighter until I had to release, and then blew on the tip. He let me go on like that for quite a while, which must have just baffled him to no end, finally pushing me off, saying nevermind, and we all fell to sleep.

At dawn, I heard him awake and I feigned sleep for a moment. He sat up slowly enough at first, and then after a moment's pause, bolted out of the bed and there was great commotion in his bathroom, and then I heard his famous Orange VW bus peel away from his own house.

Hurt, but. There was blood literally as though I had been murdered all over the sheets, my legs, the blanket, Everything.

It was like Carrie. I couldn't understand how that much blood could have come from me. Later I would learn that it wasn't just Kevin who got me so wet, I had indeed simulteanously started my period that night.

I groped to the bathroom, stunned that I was dripping blood the whole way there, and tried to wipe myself as best I could.

I snuck back in the house through the doggie door, couldn't shower at that wee hour without Mom knowing I'd been out, so I slept for a few hours longer in my mess.

In the full Sunday morning, after my shower, I went to Mom for Tampax. Image by none other than the incomparable Jim Cooke. I'm getting desperate.

On a side note, the last guy I was with I went to high school with. Since my high school was a cesspool of gossip we knew everyone's business part of why I never messed with anyone.

One of the memories that will never go away is hearing the story of how he was drunkenly going down on a girl at a party, it goes like this: "nom nom nom" -dude: man, I am really good at this shit.

Everything you need to know about and expect during. The A. Kate Dries. Filed to: first time. Share This Story.

My boyfriend was hanging out with me while I was trying to work it in. I couldn't get it in and was frustrated and on the verge of tears when I decided to have him help me stretch out.

It was completely unromantic but he was totally into it and then neither of us orgasmed because I didn't need us to orgasm in order to get the Diva cup in.

Poor guy. Things got better later of course. Location: Air. I couldn't afford anything else and was already in a shitty apartment in a shitty neighborhood after being told I could not stay with my parents for a summer between college semesters.

The room was incredibly tiny. It was also in a hot city in the South in the dead of summer, and we did not have air conditioning. All of this will play into the saga.

How it went down: He was my boyfriend I'm a girl , and also a virgin. Having sex on an air bed is at best a calculated risk, and at worst a complete and utter shitshow.

This was the latter. Both of us were virgins, and he got a little Because of the previously mentioned heat, we were both gruesomely sweaty this will come into play later.

We struggled a little bit with the condom and subsequent insertion, as novices are wont to do, and he started going to town.

He must have thought that the more athletic the thrust and the wider its range of motion, the better the sex. So the air bed was rockin and rollin, when suddenly he thought it was a good idea to try to put his hands under me during a particularly hearty thrust.

We lost our balance a bit and shifted to the edge of the bed, which as any experienced air bed user will know, caused it to tip over completely, ejecting us from the bed.

I heard his cries of anguish and stood to help him, but because his body had tracked sweat across the floor, I slipped, fell back on top of the air bed, and popped it completely.

It didn't hurt for me at all, and we went on to have a pretty fulfilling sexual experience together. At his place. On a real bed.

Anyway, I love trotting out this story when sharing worst experiences with sex. Age: I was 16, he was 17, and I felt like a goddamn badass.

Location: Rural Pennsyltucky, against the upstairs wall on his divorced mother's condo's hallway, and because she wasn't really a person, it was lined with white shag carpet, and why this matters will soon be clear.

How it went down: I was an emerging poet who loved and dated a boy for over a year just because he was the lead singer in a band and this is what's more important wrote the lyrics to all their songs.

His mom—a local public high school English teacher who wanted desperately to be a writer, and with whom I hoped to connect so sweetly with that we'd go see Charles Dickens' plays together at Christmas, both of us wrapped up in scarves she'd knitted, or else we'd take bus trips to New York City just to smell the public libraries—hated me.

Luckily, she hated Pennsylvania more, but before leaving for a week-long vacation in the Florida Keys with her overweight Match.

To this day, I've never been able to find these condoms in a store again, which means that obviously way back in , his mother must've ordered them specially from an online porn shop, which is great fun to think about!

Chris and I were, as you might well guess, completely disgusted and freaked out, but we were also seventeen, so after striping one another bare, we began to have sex the only way we knew how: the way they do it in porn, with my back pushed against a wall, my legs wrapped around his waist, and Chris thrusting anxiously into me with unparalleled awkwardness and noise.

I began to bleed—just a little at first, and "Keep going," he said, "don't worry! We stopped having sex to try and clean the carpet, but the wet paper towel only smeared it and made it worse, and then we decided, Well, fuck it then, and resumed our former position, except now Chris' hands were bloody and wet from all the failed cleaning and we smeared it all over the wall.

I came, which is perhaps what's most surprising here, but we spent the whole rest of the week repainting the hall, scrubbing the carpet with every kind of "sit and wait" foaming cleanser available from our small-town hardware store, and every time I was over, we'd return to the hallway to neurotically examine the spot from different angles and in different light.

We didn't date a whole lot longer—that kinda push the kibosh on sexiness—and his mother has since moved, but I can't help but think about that hallway whenever I visit home.

Snuck out of parents house a week before my 15th birthday. Walked to the party in the surfer-laden suburbs of Lake Forest yep, the OC baby!

Was wearing thin peach top with black bra underneath, and short black 80s skirt that had those 3 ruffles tiered down it. Was blonde. Was very blonde due to Sun-In.

Was tan. Was pretty fucking cute. Was being very brave because I hung out with punks, losers, dorks and retards but I really wanted to lose my virginity to a boy based solely on his looks, since I couldn't find one who was worth my time, and I was fucking horny living among all those pliable sun-bleached-brained boys.

Sauntered around surfer boy party looking for boy to fuck. Wanted sex unbelievably badly would possibly explode upon contact.

Girls looked at me knowing that I'd come alone, I didn't like any of them, it wasn't my scene, and I was invading their boy cliques.

Held beer in keg cup and eyed up every last one of them fearlessly, I respected none of them and I walked as if in a force field, eyes roving like the Terminator's.

There were 4 boys that all girls wanted. They were the shining stars of El Toro High School. They were known as the Grommets, like the fish that played in the ocean in the day and fucked on the beach at night.

They were golden. The sun kissed their eyebrows that flickered with their confidence. More than any of them I wanted a boy named Andy.

It stuns me, I must have just forgot his last name over the last year or two. Maybe I'll remember it.

Something with an S. I wanted him so bad and he'd never known I existed. I didn't want to know him, I just wanted to fuck him.

So I never approached him or talked to him at school. I just walked by and lusted. His best friend was Mark Gotro. Mark was hot, he was a grommet.

The four of them were huddled together near the keg and I listened as I pumped more beer in my cup.

Andy was explaining that his goal for the evening was Really Big Tits. That's all he wanted, all he cared about.

He was a year older and had been fucking for what I imagined as ages. This killed me because I was a budding B-cup back then.

It also reduced my inhibitions of approaching them, knowing I had no chance. So I introduced myself and looked round at them, these fifteen and sixteen year old kings.

We chatted and Paul, the least cute one of the four, but still quite fuckable, seemed rather interested. I remember mentioning I'd been in such a hurry slipping out of my house unnoticed I hadn't even worn underwear!

My palm over my cherry holding lips. Then a miracle occured. Kevin Gotro, uber-king of the surfers of Laguna Beach, Mark's older brother, all eighteen hunky years of him appeared.

He tousled Mark's hair complaining that his little brother's party was all there was to do that night. His skin so tan it made freckles in his cheeks, where his cheekbones lit, he stood above us in all his six footed glory with his strong broad shoulders and his golden eyes danced as if he were a wise old man and we were all just a bunch of silly gullz and boyz drinking kool-aid.

I didn't say anything to him. I just stared at him. I asked his brother which room was his. Mark grinned and loudly announced my query, exactly as I knew he would.

Kevin grinned at me. I just stared. He said "you wanna see? We went upstairs. I had fantasized about this for half my life up till that point.

I was going to be a tigress. I would say all sorts of brilliant and witty quips. But instead what flicked through my mind was an episode of the Wonder Years that had played last night.

Where he'd stood with Winnie on a hill and they were finally, fucking Finally, going to tell each other they liked each other. They stood on the hill and he drew circles with his foot.

It symbolized shyness, and deep feelings of adoration that could not be spoken. In the bedroom there was thin shitty carpeting and my foot tried to draw circles, I tried to be the sweet innocent girl with the older man, but my foot kept catching on the carpet and I must have looked really foolish.

He stared at me grinning for a while. Then he went up to the bed, which was a bunk bed. He didn't use the bottom, the bottom was removed for space.

The lights were out. We kissed up there in the top corner of his room. It was the very first time I'd ever french kissed.

It was like swimming underwater in a simmering cave. I forgot about sex, I just wanted to kiss him. I never wanted to stop kissing.

At that point in my life I masturbated probably two or three times a day at minimum. Somedays I just let myself have it all afternoon.

Being a latchkey kid and all. So I really only thought I wanted sex, but then I dove into his mouth and never wanted to come out.

Light came in through the window and I would open my eyes for just a moment to glimpse him, afraid he'd stop if he saw my eyes. But his remained closed, and I stole more and more glances, astounded that I was kissing such a handsome man.

Then Andy came in. With a girl. I didn't look down, but I knew, he'd found a girl with big tits. Kevin said nothing he just kept kissing me and I sure as hell wasn't going to stop him.

We moved our tongues and felt each others bodies while we listened to Andy get her breasts. She was resisting, stupidly, trying to make the situation more than it was.

As if she weren't making out at a kegger in a room with other people in it. He was being as insensitive as a sixteen year old charmed shit can be.

She was as secure of herself as any fifteen year old would be: does he really just want me for my tits? Yes sweetie, he does. And It's Ohhhkayyy.

Finally she relented and in the silence we felt him grope her to his heart's content. Our tongues still rolling like the waves he surfed, this made Kevin huge and by then we were naked.

I was more wet than I'd ever been before, so much so it blew my mind. In the streetlight I saw his form mount over me, and my engorged lips hung open mouthed at the sight.

It was heaven that form in that lighting, above me, about to take me. The girl below me said, "Andy", and Kevin glanced down for a second, which meant he had to whip his hair back across his face to clear his eyes, which was music.

My legs were too close, and he fumbled trying to get in, and then he pushed. It was the most painful thing I'd ever felt. I felt I'd broken bones, I'd never walk again, I felt the heat of the body's reactions to pain well like a pool over my pelvis, with Andy below I tried to not to make a sound, I tried to whisper, Please, no, it hurts too much, take it out.

Andy's voice bolted up as he rose from his molesting, "Yeaaah! Kevin was not to be distracted. He tried to soothe me, petting my hair back from my forehead saying he just needed to be gentle and slow and then it would be good.

He tried to pull him out slowly and even that felt like I was being torn at. I let him push in once more and it felt no better, which seemed the cruelest joke of the gods to be played on me of many well done ridicules.

I begged him off, with him becoming invisible to me in my despair. He laid back and whined, "Well, can, you, at least, suck it?

I'd never done that before, of course, and the results were hysterical. Since all I'd ever heard was "suck it" and "blow job" I actually thought you just sucked it like a lollipop.

It's normal for it to take most folks at least a little trial and error to figure out exactly what turns them on in the bedroom — but once you do, getting it right can feel so epic.

TBH, reliving the best sex you've ever had can make the tingles come on strong. Even if the person you had the experience with has long been forgotten, the sensual memories you share can legit last a lifetime.

Brought to you by the ladies of Reddit, here are some of their sex stories that were just too amazing to forget. Sometimes fully giving yourself to the experience with your partner is all you need for a mind-blowing romp.

Sexual and relationship psychotherapist Kate Moyle has advice for how to make that happen. Engle told Elite Daily, "Sexual compatibility occurs when two or more bodies and minds match up during a sexual experience.

You're super into the things this person does to your body: the way they kiss, their smell, their sexual technique. You have chemistry, and things are hot.

It means there is a spark. Everything sort of works. PSA: If you feel like your partner isn't pleasing you the way you'd like to be pleased, don't be afraid to kindly let them know.

Feeling sexually satisfied is so important, and it's surprising how much things can improve with just a little communication.

This article was originally published on Dec. By Tayi Sanusi. Gahdamn he took me to pound town. He was the first guy that actually cared enough to make sure I orgasmed, more than once.

He also tells me what he wants in bed and listens to what I want as well. Riding High One time my boyfriend and I ate a very large quantity of marijuana edibles I don't know the mg, they were made by a friend , and started to have sex.

The weed, plus my incredibly low tolerance to weed, plus my boyfriends magic fingers, resulted in an incredibly intense orgasm.

Im talking my eyes were closed, but I could see and feel colors radiating out of me. It was super. I was worried that sex wouldn't be the same sober after that, but luckily its still been pretty great.

Not "rainbows coming out of my pussy" great, but still great. The Ultimate Bedroom Eyes This guy from school hit me up and we fooled around and hung out a few times.

It didn't go further than that but it was alright because both of us were fine with just that.

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