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What's Your Number? #10

The Worst in My 'What's Your Number' Series

By Kate LynnPublished 7 years ago 6 min read
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Oh, Nick. Poor, poor Nick.

I suppose it's only fitting that the worst of my 10 sexual partners be my first. It was, after all, the most awkward sex I think I've ever had. And he was the most awkward man I've ever been with.

Welcome to my countdown of the Top 10 (and only 10) men I have slept with. I recently reached this mile stone and decided that there was truly no better way to celebrate than to take a look back at the best of the best and the worst of the worst. And poor Nick is most certainly the worst of the worst.

I met him through an online dating site (Plenty of Fish, if you were curious) and talked to him for a total of two days before we decided we should meet. We sat in a near-empty cafe and drank stale coffee together. We spent an hour talking animatedly about our interests before Nick decided to kiss me. He had chapped lips and used tongue. Afterward, he ruffled my hair in a gesture that felt very "Good boy!" to me and then said he had to go catch a bus.

So the kiss was less than extraordinary. Way less. And yet, in my little 18-year-old mind, I convinced myself that what Nick and I had was special. He was special. While I sat there alone in the cafe, wiping his saliva from my upper lip (gag), I sent him a text, "Hope we can hang out again soon!"

Less than a minute later, I got a text back, "How about tomorrow night?"

I think part of my problem here was that I was too eager. I should have recognized that Nick wasn't, in fact, as special as I believed he was and was, in fact, a pale, skinny boy who couldn't kiss very well and who couldn't remember my name when the barista asked for it to write on my cup ("It's Kaylie. NO I mean Kate. Shoot!").

22-year-old me knows all this and can laugh about it. But 18-year-old me thought she was in love. So the following night, I went over to his apartment under the guise of watching Sherlock, but which resulted in me losing my virginity.

We were watching a movie on his laptop. He had his arm around me, very stiffly, and I was pressed up against his side, equally stiff. We were clearly both uncomfortable with the situation but, as it turns out, for different reasons. I, because his hand was dangerously close to my right breast, and he because he was trying to think of an excuse to touch my right breast.

The movie ended. He yawned, stretched, his hand moved down. Fingers grazed fabric. Fabric covered breast. He made contact.

I think I actually laughed because somehow I found that to be hilarious. He relaxed his hand and actually cupped my breast like it was an orange in his palm. He moved it a bit, rolled the orange, tested for bruises. I knew I was supposed to be turned on, but I just felt like produce.

The laptop was put on the floor, and I was laid on my back, and because I was “in love” with this boy, I let him undress me. Which leads me to one of my big "firsts" of the night: the first time anyone saw adult-me naked. It was thrilling only for a second before I realized all my bits were out, and he was taking a survey of every inch of me. I covered myself with the scratchy, plaid blanket I found at the end of his bed.

Nick undressed as I laid there. He was much thinner than I had thought— pale with taut skin and harshly protruding bones. I looked between his legs, even though I really didn't know what was average and what was not. I remember this moment perfectly because it was the first time I'd ever seen a penis, and his was surprisingly purple. Like, really purple. It looked angry.

He pulled away my blanket shield and climbed onto the mattress. We kissed, him lapping at my closed lips with his tongue until I finally gave in and opened them. I waited to feel a little jolt between my legs, a little spark—anything to tell me I was enjoying this. But I knew I just wasn't turned on.

Nick laid down beside me, fisting his angry purple penis, and quietly asked me to suck it. This, he told me, is what people ALWAYS do before sex. And little naive Kate believed him.

I crawled between his legs and stared down at his cock, standing at attention and waiting for my next move. This would be my first blowjob. I tried to give him a demure smile, like this was something I'd done thousands of times. But I'm sure my inexperience showed when I hesitated for a full minute, reluctantly to put that thing in my mouth. It was just SO PURPLE. And was that amount of pubic hair normal for a man?

I only blew him for a few seconds before I began to feel nauseous and stopped.

"Do you go down on me now?" I asked, sitting back and beginning to feel the tiniest bit excited at this prospect.

Nick shook his head, "No, I'll lose my erection. We need to fuck now."

Who says romance is dead?

I was flipped onto my back and Nick disappeared for a second to put on a condom. When he came back, he was pinching the tip and snapping it against his penis—truly the perfect soundtrack to our impending love making. He settled on top of me, positioned himself, and pushed inside. It didn't hurt like I'd expected it to. This was the only pleasant part of the entire evening.

Nick braced himself with one hand on my boob, the other on the headboard, and began a slow, lazy motion of fucking that was less than exciting for me. He, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself. He panted and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing down hard on my poor tit. I was just beginning to try and roll my hips a bit, perhaps gain some friction that way, when he suddenly froze.

"Nick?" I whispered because he wasn't moving, and he wasn't saying anything.

He exhaled through his teeth, eyes still shut, "Yeah?"

"You O.K.?"

"Yeah. I just went."

"Went?"

"Yeah, like, came?"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

He remained on top of me for a moment, unmoving, and smelling sour with sweat before he finally got up. I heard him take off the condom and smelled the ugly latex perfume that followed.

And that was it.

We didn't cuddle, we didn't shower together, we didn't even talk much. He dressed and said he needed to use the bathroom. After he was gone, I laid on the bed, stunned, waiting to feel something that I knew wasn't going to come. I wasn't an erotic goddess after my first time. I was sticky with his sweat and positively disappointed in the entire experience. Is that what every time would be like?

For a long time, I pretended that Nick wasn't my first because I was just so deeply upset with how it all happened. But I'm at a point in my life now where I can recognize how completely unrealistic it was to assume my first time (and every time afterward) would be an explosive, erotic experience. There will also be bad sex and good sex. As it happens, Nick was my first encounter with bad sex, but he wouldn't be the last.

Stay tuned for #9.

eroticnsfw
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About the Creator

Kate Lynn

Love, sex, and everything in between

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