Sometimes I find myself lying in bed thinking of the first time I had sex. It was not the typical story of an innocent boy and girl exploring. This was more of a scene from a hot, explicit movie. We were both attending the same school, and he was a few years older than I. I knew he had experience, and he was so hot I pretended I’d also done it before to seem more attractive. I’d played the scenes of raunchy movies over in my head to prepare as I lay in bed watching him undress. Even though it was a distant memory, I remember every hot and steamy detail down to the smell.

He picked me up that night while Mom was working. We went back to his place to find it empty as well. It was a well-kept apartment with barely any furniture. The decor screamed, “I’m a single man!”  His bedroom was visible from the living room, but we never made it that far. From the moment he closed the door behind us, he was unable to keep his hands away from my young, hot, slender body.

He grabbed me up in his big, strong arms and pulled me closer to him. He bent down, cupping the back of my neck, pulling my face to his. His mouth smashed against my own while his hands wandered freely, exploring all of me. These feelings took over me. Feelings I’d never known. So foreign, yet so tantalizing I found myself reaching and grabbing him all over. He had a serious look on his face that told me there was no turning back as we fell back against the sofa. He told me right before he slid into me that I would never forget that moment for the rest of my life. No matter how distant the memory, he was right; I never forgot one detail.