One of our readers recounts hitting a pre-teen home run:
I was supposed to have this written a few weeks ago, but I kept getting distracted and procrasturbating! …Get it? Procrastinating and Mas…tur…bating… *tap *tap Is this thing on?
To say that I was a little sexually precocious as a child would be like saying death valley gets kind of warm in July, that Warren Buffett can probably afford to pick up the check for lunch and that Ron Jeremy has bedded a few women; clearly it’s a complete understatement.
By the time I hit adolescence, I was acting as girl crazy as my 18 and 21 year old cousins. Since I spent most of my youth shadowing them, I picked up things about girls, sex and the attitude that got you both. I was bursting with self confidence and I knew how to wield my sexuality even if, at that point, I still had no fucking clue what sex was really about. But I thought I did.
So it should have been no surprise when I soon after, at the age of 12, lost my virginity.
Ha! “Lost”. “Lost my virginity” is such a funny phrase to me. Lost seems to imply an accident has taken place. “Threw that mother fucker over a cliff” is more apt to describe the tenacity with which I pursued the elusive Vagina. I was on a mission to cure a horny condition. And unlike most other 12 year olds (and unfortunately many much older men) I knew what the clitoris was and more importantly where it sleeps at night and how it likes to be talked to. I knew how to kiss passionately and about how to listen to the needs of each individual woman.
I realize that losing one’s virginity sub 14 years old isn’t very common. I realize that many people have a problem with this. I will be one of the first to say that for 99.9% of kids that age, it is a bad idea. Personally, I have no regrets about it. Whenever I get into a conversation with someone about past sexual experiences and we eventually get to the topic of our virginity, the look I get is always one of two things: 1. Confusion/disbelief. 2. Nervous smile. Mostly it’s a combination of the two strangely alternating on their face in a “what the fuck do I say here?” kind of dance. To understand how at the age of 12 I had sex with a woman of 28, you should probably hear a little about what my upbringing was like.
I can remember touching myself and exploring what was going on down there from as early as 6 years old. I have a memory from when I was about 7 years old about my mom discussing masturbation with me. She’s nervous and a little awkward as she tells me it’s a natural thing that everyone does. Apparently the night before, she returned home from grocery shopping and caught a glimpse of me giving myself the business in my room. Apparently she also began purposely making noise so I would hear she was home and stop my one man band short of the impending crescendo. Apparently I was having too much damn fun to notice there was a world beyond me and my penis, and kept right on going. She decided she should have a talk with me the next day. The thing was, I already knew it wasn’t something shameful or bad…it felt so good, how could it be? But still, when I look back, I am grateful to have had a parent that at least got this part of it right. Had I been in another type of household where masturbation is a “sin” or something to be ashamed of, who knows how that would have shaped me for the rest of my life.
At 9 I found my step-father’s box ‘o porn. Some good shit, some pretty weird shit. And this was before ubiquitous online smut of every flavor and hue. When he discovered some of his tapes were out of place, he asked me about it and I admitted my actions. He never once said anything negative about it. He would openly joke with me about it, but never in a way that was meant to make me feel silly or ashamed.
At 11, my mom agreed to let me keep a stack of Playboy magazines which her current boyfriend had, at first, unsuccessfully tried to sneak over for me. This made me a very popular kid among my friends.
This open parental consent and championing of sexuality was the seed of my blooming sexual confidence. This of course led to confidence in other aspects of my personality and you might argue that this is what led to me having sex at such a young age. You might, but you’d be wrong. Mostly wrong, anyway. I believe the biggest contributing factor was actually what my parents got wrong about my upbringing. My biological father would never be in the picture and my step-father was almost never there. My mother was a single parent for most of my life and took a rather “laissez-faire” stance on my rearing. I never had a curfew and I was very rarely in any kind of trouble with her for the trouble that I was in with other authority figures. Exploration was common not just with sex, but also with drugs and other forms of behavior.
My Cherry Poppin’ Mama, let’s just call her Mary Kay, was actually a close friend of my mom; and the mother of a friend of mine. Got it? Not exactly a perfect situation, but it was what it was. Mary Kay and I had a bit of an affair building for some time. It started out one night with a kiss that left her briefly in shock; I still remember her pulling back after a few seconds and saying, “You’re not supposed to know how to kiss like that” before going back in for more. Each time we would be at a social gathering, she and I would sneak off and I would sweet talk her like I had learned to do. I would touch her and ask her to describe how it felt so her mind would focus deeply on each touch. After a number of these secret meetings, one night I came home from being out with friends to find her at my house. She had made an excuse to my mom for why she needed to be there.
This was premeditated.
She waited for my mom to fall asleep and told her she would let herself out. When I walked in the door, she pounced. She pulled me close and whispered to me that she couldn’t stand it any longer, that she needed to have me now. I picked her up and carried her to my room as silently as possible. My mom was sleeping in the next room and I knew that despite how open she had been before, this would not be something that she would be okay with. Mary Kay pulled off my shirt and tore at my belt before slowing down like she was about to undo the last bit of ribbon on a birthday present. She took me in her mouth and began to moan as nature took over and my penis became a cock. She was speeding up and seemed now too eager to have me inside of her. I slowed her down and stripped her remaining clothes off one by one. As I laid her on her back, I went down on her with a zealousness seldom seen in competitive eating champions. I covered her mouth with my hand to muffle her sounds, her back arched and her muscles tensed in one unifying tight burst before relaxing and sinking back into my shitty, polyester, KMart bed spread. She then took me in her hands and stroked until I was ready. That first moment when you have breached the walls and feel yourself surrounded by the warmth and wetness is not easy to describe. I felt for the first time the miracle of sex. The simultaneous delight of pleasing and being pleased.
That was my first time. I kept it a secret for a whole week before I told my best friend at the time. I replayed each moment in detail and felt a different kind of excitement come over me. The thought of not just my friend, but knowing that this story will eventually get out and other girls soon having thoughts of me rock around in their mind thoroughly excited me. I had a premonition of what was to come for the next several years of my life. My legend was established. I was the youngest person anyone knew of that had sex. I was also the only one to have slept not with a girl, but a woman. By the time High School came along, most other people I knew were openly having sex and exploring their sexuality. High School was a very fun and educational time for many of us in this sense.
In college my number of partners grew. However, so did my understanding of sex and the purpose it can have in one’s life and relationships. Sex is at it’s best for me when it’s with someone I truly care about. Sex with anyone else is still pretty good, mind you, but it took me a long time and a number of sexual encounters to fully comprehend what some people already knew: that there is a depth and tranquility that come with giving all of yourself and receiving all of another in mind and body. First, however, you must understand yourself. Be understanding of your flaws and remember that love is all around you. You reach this special place by first loving yourself and a great way to begin is by loving yourself physically. Today, I maintain that an open attitude towards sex and masturbation are crucial to overall mental health and in feeling connected not just with another, but with yourself and a greater, more mysterious energy you feel when at peace.
No matter how you lost it, or if you still haven’t, learn from what took me a while to figure out is most important. Work on loving yourself and someone will eventually love you the same.
Any questions, comments, statements, inquiries or things you want to know? Please feel free to speak up below.