My First Time

This is a true story to the best of my recollection.

I was 15 when I lost my vir­gin­ity. She was 15 too. My Swedish high school had a small stu­dent exchange pro­gram with a cor­re­spond­ing school in Nor­way, and I was cho­sen as one of four stu­dents to par­tic­i­pate. We would stay at one Nor­we­gian student’s home each, attend class with them, and then host that stu­dent for a week while they attended class with us at home.

The intent was that two stu­dents were boys and two were girls. And host match­ing would be with the same sex. I remem­ber hop­ing that some­how I would wind up paired with a girl any­way because, well, because I was 15 and a walk­ing erec­tion. As it turned out, the Nor­we­gian boys declined to par­tic­i­pate so there were four Nor­we­gian girls host­ing and I was paired with a girl. Yes! Her name was Kristin.

Kristin and I did not click. She was cute and friendly and a gra­cious host­ess but that was about it. My male co-​student, Kent, got placed with a girl named Hilde and she was a bohemian beauty. Straight long raven hair, a cute lit­tle almost-​button nose that led your thoughts to an adorable troll doll. And she filled out her sweaters so well. So, so well.

Hilde’s well-​shaped and well-​sized (not too small and not too large) breasts made the front of her cardi­gans and sweaters look like… like… well, I can­not come up with a good sim­ile at the moment, because all my blood would rush from my head to my smaller head when­ever I looked at her. And I had many occa­sions to look at her because she always seemed to be around. I was hop­ing she would not think I was a creep stalk­ing her but she was so pretty that I for­got to worry and she did not seem to mind my com­pany that much anyway.

Hilde was a wet dream come true; smart, sweet, cute, fair skin, long black hair, and very much shaped like a girl. I remem­ber those cursed sweaters to this day. I have a thing for women wear­ing sweaters just because of her. She always man­aged to look like the soft­est, fluffi­est, warmest, cud­dliest thing in the world. I would tease her about look­ing like a troll doll and say that if I could, I would put her in my pocket, and she would blush.

As the entire group of eight stu­dents and a chap­er­one trav­eled by train from Nor­way to Swe­den, at one point Hilde put a band-​aid on my pant knee and wrote “Mine” on it. I could not fig­ure out what she meant by that, but I have never been as care­ful mak­ing sure a band-​aid stayed put as I was with that one. It gave me but­ter­flies in my stom­ach but I could not for the life of me con­ceive that this raven-​haired beauty with the sweater-​covered pil­lows liked me. No, there had to be another answer.

The whole week in Swe­den passed in the same vein, and the night before the Nor­we­gian girls departed for home, we had a party at Kent’s house. His par­ents were away and us eight kids had the house to ourselves.

Some­how, early in the evening I wound up alone with Hilde in a sparsely lit room and we were talk­ing and all of a sud­den she said, “I like you,” and put a hand on my knee.

I was stunned. I had no idea what to do or to say. I was just sit­ting there like a fool. Then she moved for­ward and kissed me. We con­tin­ued kiss­ing for a while, very chaste, until the oth­ers called us to par­tic­i­pate in the party.

After a while of social­iz­ing, Kent showed us his room, and the guy had a king-​sized mat­tress. We were all impressed because every­one else had a twin at their respec­tive houses.

Hilde and I found our­selves alone in Kent’s room and some­how the door ended up closed and we would not emerge for a while. And when we did, to everyone’s amuse­ment, the win­dow in his room was com­pletely steamed up. But that would still be a while.

We laid on Kent’s bed and kissed and I was won­der­ing how I could sur­rep­ti­tiously cop a feel.

I can­not believe that I was this inept. I had in fact bought “The Joy of Sex” about six months ear­lier and read it from cover to cover sev­eral times. I knew how and where to find the cli­toris, and also where to feel for the G-​spot and what it would feel like to the touch when I found it. But I had yet to even touch a girl’s breast.

In my defense, though, I was being kissed for the first time in my life by a girl. A girl out of my league, no less. That in itself was a giant leap for me and before long I was get­ting myself hand­ful after hand­ful of sweater-​covered breast. I was in heaven.

I assure every female mem­ber of the audi­ence that my love-​making skills have improved greatly since then.

After some kiss­ing, her hand hap­pened to graze over my crotch and the erec­tion that she could not have missed even if she tried. After squeez­ing it like a tooth­paste tube for a while, I finally—thank goodness—took some ini­tia­tive and unbut­toned her jeans and mum­bled some­thing along the lines of “Lemme just…” and I pulled down her fly and reached in under­neath the sheer elas­tic of her panties and slid down.

This is another thing I will always remem­ber. I had not even kissed a girl or touched a girl’s breasts before that night, and now my hand was slid­ing rev­er­ently down between Hilde’s softly curved abdomen and her almost-​as-​soft panty fab­ric. I had not touched a girl’s under­wear either before then. I knew intel­lec­tu­ally what I was going to find down there, but actu­ally feel­ing it for the first time was intense enough to imprint that touch mem­ory on my brain and my soul forever.

My fin­gers touched a patch of coarse hair, very much like the hair I had down there. And then came the neat­est thing; there was noth­ing there!

I know, I know; that’s one of the more tan­gi­ble dif­fer­ences between boys and girls and I cer­tainly knew about it, but until that moment, I did not Know it, if that makes sense.

At about the point my… pack­age would be stick­ing out, there was noth­ing but a gen­tle curve that fun­neled my hand in between her upper thighs.

Oh boy.

I cupped her vulva, reg­is­ter­ing the coarse hair against the palm on my hand and I was try­ing not to soil my under­wear. Her outer labia com­pletely cov­ered her inner labia so it was just one (coarsely) smooth, warm mound.

And then the absolutely best thing ever in my short life hap­pened; her outer labia parted and my fin­gers slipped into the hot slick wet­ness I had read about and heard about and never fully under­stood. I was begin­ning to under­stand now.

My fin­gers were almost falling into her, giv­ing me ver­tigo, because there was no resis­tance once her labia parted. It was amaz­ing. It was like see­ing my first sun­rise over Grand Canyon one crisp morn­ing in January.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

A rac­ing heart­beat or three after slip­ping in, every­thing slipped into place (par­don the pun) in my head. I was touch­ing a girl whose body was ready for mine and I fin­gered her gen­tly and found her cli­toris and made her come and I con­tin­ued to fin­ger her and fin­ger her and she was silent but she kept on shiv­er­ing peri­od­i­cally in a way that I came to asso­ciate with her coming.

My fin­gers were pruny when I with­drew them from her and they smelled so good! I had never ever smelt any­thing like it. It is a scent, no, a per­fume, that pen­e­trates straight into the male rep­tile brain.

And then Kent’s par­ents came home and said it was time to go to bed because our guests were leav­ing in the early morn­ing. Hilde and I barely had time to find a pri­vate space to say good­bye. We were both so sad because we had just “found” each other. We made plans right then and there that she and Kristin would come to stay with us in my house over Easter break in a cou­ple of months.

We wrote roman­tic puppy-​dog-​love let­ters to each other and spent hours on the phone weekly. At that time there was one phone per house­hold so we were both sit­ting and talk­ing where the entire fam­ily could lis­ten in if they wanted, so there was no raunchy busi­ness. I am grate­ful for my now clouded mem­ory of those dis­courses; those sappy let­ters and calls would undoubt­edly be unbear­ably embar­rass­ing to peruse now.

Both my par­ents and Hilde’s par­ents had a pretty good idea of what she and I were plan­ning. They all employed a don’t-ask-don’t-tell pol­icy and just let us do as we willed. My mother did have the “con­dom talk” with me before Hilde arrived and I remem­ber dri­ving across town on my moped to a now-​defunct gas sta­tion and buy­ing a 10-​pack of con­doms. I was embar­rassed but no amount of embar­rass­ment would stop me from finally get­ting laid. This was before AIDS and everybody’s main con­cern was pregnancy.

Night could not come fast enough the day Hilde and Kristin arrived and got set­tled in our guest bedroom.

Once the house was dark and quiet, Hilde snuck stealth­ily into my room in a night­gown not doing any­thing worth­while hid­ing the soft pil­lows on her chest. I finally got to undress a girl and see her in all her glory.

Hilde was shy and for some rea­son inse­cure about her nudity, so she jumped quickly under­neath the cov­ers on my bed. From what I saw, though, and what I remem­ber, she was mag­nif­i­cent with no clothes on.

I dove in after her and we kissed and made out and I blew in her ear and I sucked on her breasts and my hand trav­eled down to the steam­ing heat I remem­bered so well.

The hot slick­ness was just as wel­com­ing and heav­enly as I remem­bered. For some rea­son that I can­not remem­ber, we were never in a hurry to esca­late from one activ­ity to the nat­u­rally suc­ceed­ing one. I was just happy fin­ger­ing her, it is such a nice thing after all, and kiss­ing her and suck­ing on her breasts. And she shiv­ered more than once as I did that.

Even the com­ing days, when we were alone in the house, was she as quiet as a mouse. At the time it seemed nat­ural to me because I don’t make much noise either, but I have learned the power and allure of a vocal woman in bed. But then and there, I was with the love god­dess Venus her­self. Or, at least, her 15-​year-​old sister.

I with­drew my fin­gers from her pussy and was treated again with her scent. It was almost a reli­gious expe­ri­ence for me. We were lay­ing stretched out on our sides, kiss­ing, with her upper leg over my hip.

Serendip­i­tously I hap­pened to be posi­tioned with the head of my dick aimed straight at the entrance of her pussy, and when I felt the heat of her against me, I instinc­tively reached with my upper hand for her hip and pulled her hip towards me.

Still no plan here, folks, I just went with what felt natural.

I heard her gasp as I pulled her towards me, her eyes widened and looked straight into mine and all of a sud­den I reg­is­tered the heat radi­at­ing at the head of my dick as much more intense.

I had no expe­ri­ence with which to com­pare to, so I was not sure what was going on. That hap­pened another time too when I acci­den­tally entered the wrong hole with a dif­fer­ent girl­friend, but that is another story. I can be very dense at times.

I did not know that the head of my dick was already inside her. My dick was so hard and the skin so taut that I had very lit­tle sense of pres­sure. I was feel­ing mostly heat.

I knew I was very close to her pussy, though, because there was some­thing really warm right there. Much closer than I should be. I knew there was a pos­si­bil­ity of impreg­nat­ing her just by show­er­ing her lips with my sperm, so I had to be careful.

But you only live once. And I was a horny 15-​year-​old, and I just wanted to see what actu­ally touch­ing her wet­ness with my dick would feel like. I promised myself that I would just touch her and then put on a con­dom before con­tin­u­ing. That is what I told myself.

So before Hilde had time, after her gasp, to inform me of where I real posi­tion, I pulled her hip towards me even fur­ther, you know, just to feel her. I was over­whelmed with emo­tions and sen­sa­tions and I had no idea that the tip of me was already lodged inside her.

I pulled her hip towards me and my eyes widened to match hers. Instead of push­ing against coarse hair and hot, wet slick­ness, I slid fur­ther in. At that moment I real­ized exactly where I was posi­tioned and there was no stop­ping my hand pulling that round hip towards me even further.

I felt some coarse hair, true, but not against the tip of my dick, I felt it against the sides of my shaft! And that sen­sa­tion kept reg­is­ter­ing lower and lower on the shaft as I sank deeper and deeper into her. And above that sen­sa­tion, I was held and guided by a slick soft­ness I could not believe was of earthly ori­gin. Surely, this was what an angel would feel like. At that moment, Hilde was an angel to me.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy.

I will be eter­nally grate­ful for not shoot­ing my load right then and there. I main­tained enough pres­ence of mind that when I was as deep as the posi­tion allowed, I stayed for a moment, moved my hand from her hip to her cheek, and kissed her deeply. I know I was risk­ing her becom­ing preg­nant, but I am still proud of the boy I was at that moment.

I cupped Hilde’s cheek and I kissed her deeply while stay­ing fast inside her. I believe that act shaped me as a lover all by itself. After I broke the kiss, I gen­tly pulled out and pro­ceeded to put on a con­dom and enter her again, but that is not part of the story of my first time. No, that is the story of my sec­ond time. And there were going to be many times after that one.

But this is the story of my first time, and I remem­ber my first time as slid­ing into my girl with sen­sa­tions explod­ing like fire­works in my body. I remem­ber my first time as her gasp and her widen­ing eyes, and that sin­gle, deep kiss. I remem­ber my first time as part­ing her below and above, enter­ing her at both ends, pos­sess­ing a female for the first time in my life.

“The Joy of Sex” taught me what sex was about, but Hilde taught me what it felt like to be inside a woman and how she will change you just by embrac­ing you.

That night, I fell in love with the act of enter­ing a woman and expe­ri­enc­ing her rather than just cli­max­ing in her. Too many of my friends only learned the lat­ter lesson.

That is how I was shaped as a lover and that is how I enjoy and expe­ri­ence women to this day.

Wher­ever you are today, Hilde, I am eter­nally grate­ful for you writ­ing “Mine” on a band-​aid on a knee on a train trav­el­ing east on a day roughly 30 years ago. Thank you for everything.