When I was a very young girl my parents moved us into a new house. Unbeknownst to them, surrounded by boys! It worked out when I was younger because I loved all things boys and getting down and dirty with them is a cherished memory. I wasn’t quite a tom-boy but I was definitely one of the guys. As I got older everything started to change, everything from their voices to my breasts. It became a whole new world of getting dirty.
Though there were quite a few guys to pine after on my block, there was only one that always kept my interest and for reasons that still elude me. Since the moment I moved into that house, he was always the one I wanted to spend the most time with. During the school year we rarely ever spent any time together because we didn’t run in the same circles, but oh those summer nights made up for all the days that got lost in between.
I wasn’t in the same circles as him, since he was the quoted “popular” guy and I, well, wasn’t. But, when both our circles went home for the night, it left just us. That’s when I would hear about the things he loved and enjoyed, never talking about the cliques that just drove off but the things he really wanted to do. It was a different side of him I never saw at school or when other people were around, it was the side I adored.
Years after my first steps onto that new street, our whole relationship changed overnight. All because of a simple dare to kiss. There in my parents garage was my first kiss with this boy I thought I loved.
Almost immediately after that, we were constantly stealing time away to make-out. It was crazy and fun and we were constantly pushed boundaries of getting caught. Then this started to escalate and we went from kissing, to feeling each other up and the ever popular teenage dry humping and eventually… everything else.
It happened one day on the side of my parent’s house. I lost my virginity to him. It wasn’t anything special, considering I was on the side of my parent’s house. We didn’t even make it to a bedroom since our houses were filled with people, all of the time. It wasn’t romantic and I wasn’t one of those girls dreaming about the perfect night of flowers, music and candlelight. I just knew then as I know now, what I wanted and which was to feel satisfied with the horniness running wild inside my skin. It wasn’t what I expected either, I was hoping for some mind-blowing ecstasy but instead I got a couple of hard thrusts before the whole thing was over. Later, when my girlfriends would explain their first times, they all complained about this pain the felt and I realized that I never even felt that. I was hot, ready, completely willing and apparently not acting like a virgin. Even though it wasn’t mind-blowing, it was still exciting.
After that, I began sneaking out of my parent’s house to sneak into his or his into mine, whichever best suited the moment. It was a time without cell phones, texting and calling the girl next door for a booty call in the middle of the night wasn’t something you wanted to do. Since we lived next door to each other, our form of late night communication came with a tap at the window.
Late one night at his house, I was straddled on top of him, in the middle of some awkward teenage sex when we heard a noise in his hallway and I immediately laid flat and he covered me with his blankets just as his mom (my mom’s friend) walks into the room and closes his bedroom window. She never said anything to him even though the screen on his window was popped off and thrown into the bushes below or for the simple fact that there was another person in the bed with him. It was nights like those that I found thrilling and to this day I still love to push the boundaries.
I learned to scale the walls of his house and my own, climbing through endless windows to get some action. Sometimes, he would come over and we would just go into my room and close the door and do whatever we wanted. As a parent, especially of girls, I cannot think of one reason to let my kids shut their doors and I am surprised that my parents didn’t think twice about it, especially considering the deeds that were done behind those doors.
Sometimes when I would sneak out in the middle of the night, my sister would somehow know that I as on the run because she would come into my room and shut my window and lock any doors she could. It's then that learned how to break into my parent’s house when she would do that to me, but in all that time I always wondered why she would do that instead of just telling my parents I left? Maybe she just liked to see how I would get myself back into the house without getting caught.
Either way I would get out and back in without so much as a glance from anyone about where or how long I had been gone in the middle of the night. And it developed into a regular, typical booty-call.
We both became busy with school, work and the life that was taking over but whenever possible, we would still get together unless we were with other people. Every break in relationships with someone else meant we had each other until the next one came along. Our relationship was nothing more than the fun we had together. No relationship mess, no school drama... nothing but casual sex.
At first, I thought I wanted more from him. Although, I never said I word about wanting more from him, other than answering the phone or window whenever he came around. I knew, even then, that what we had sexually was all that we had, “friendship” aside.
But, as time wore on and other people came along in between calls, I realize that my want for him wasn’t all that I thought it to be. That I could enjoy our time together and know that neither one of us wanted more than what we were already giving each other and I was more than ok with that, and then I was the one calling, instead of waiting to be called. Why be passive and wait... I was never much for waiting.
I think an ideal is set forth at such a young age, in what we as females are supposed to get from males in order to give ourselves over to them sexually. Telling us how we are supposed to respect ourselves and only give our precious vagina over to those that deserve it. Of course I agree to a certain point, the point where what I want no longer matters because I’d become a whore if I actually wanted a booty call without the relationship. I learned to accept what I wanted then and learned to not put more into something that isn’t.
Had I wanted more, I would have either received less or even worse, be forever tied to someone that I would regret because I had to keep my virtue safe. But, instead I gave it freely away to people I wanted to enjoy it with, without being a whore and without the expectations.
When I see him now I think back to what was and am so glad that I was able to know at an early age that I didn’t need to be tied to him to be with him. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I held onto other people’s ideals of how sex should go and how I need to be, to be worth marrying and so on. I am glad that I have always known what I want sexually and how to satisfy myself and how to get there really quick and really, really slow.
For that I can look back and smile at what was and be glad that I am where I am because I didn’t hold onto other people ideas and came up with my own. So, now when I see him I don’t think about him in that lustful way that brought me out of the house whenever he called but as someone that I once knew and enjoyed as an awkward teenager and now I can really, really enjoy myself as an adult without holding onto things that aren’t because what I have is everything that I knew I wanted.