Undoubtedly the worst sexual experience ever.
I wouldn’t even classify this as a sexual experience. Looking back, I cringe so hard I don’t even like to think about it. To start, this happened with my brother’s best friend Will; needless to say, Will and I had some serious sexual tension ever since my sophomore year in high school when he was a junior. There was the abstract flirting like slightly too-tight hugs, the excessive eye contact and the constant reminders from my brother to “NEVER HOOK UP WITH WILL.” All of those wonderful flirtations and reminders led me to eventually kiss Will on my birthday, which led to a more traumatic and worse sexual experience.
The initial kiss with Will was, itself, cringe-worthy. There was the suction grip on my mouth, the too-aggressive biting on my lip and the horrible taste in his mouth. Nonetheless, I decided to try it again when he asked me if I would like to continue partaking in such acts. A week later we decided to meet up at his house and “hang out.” I evidently had no idea what I was getting myself into, because as soon as I entered the house he took me on a tour of all the places we could have sex.
“This is the living room, where we can have sex.”
“This is my brother’s room, where we could probably have sex.”
“This is my parent’s room, where I don’t think we should have sex.”
“This is my room, where I highly recommend we have sex.”
In high school, hooking up usually meant just kissing and maybe some other sexual things, but it was never meant as having sex. Having sex was having sex. But as a college kid, to Will, hooking up apparently meant having sex. I stupidly hadn’t considered such a possibility when I decided to hang out with him. Yet for some reason, I consented to having sex with him, deciding that maybe it would result in some kind of good outcome. WRONG.
I decided to go with the highly recommended option and have sex in his room. We start kissing and he pulled his shirt off while biting his lip. I suppose he was attempting to turn me on, but it had the opposite effect.
I suddenly realized how repulsed I was by the size of his hands and started realizing that his dick was definitely going to be small and he had football sheets on his bed and so then I started panicking, realizing that I’m about to have sex with my brother’s best friend in a room that is nearly 90 degrees.
I started to think about how if my brother ever found out he would hate me forever and be so disgusted by Will. This disgust/worry was obviously evident on my face because Will said something about how horrible it would be if my brother found out. I tried to shake it off and kiss him, but now my hands were shaking and he was trying to take off my really complex shirt and bra combination and it’s just wasn’t working. There was a ton of fidgeting and finally he wrestled the top off, with no help from me.
At that point, I was lying shirtless on top of children’s football sheets, sweating relentlessly from nerves and the excessive heat. I was watching him take off his weird cargo shorts and all I could think of was how I forgot to wear deodorant and the absolute disaster that was about to take place. I soon after took my shorts off only to realize that I was wearing underwear that said “rock on!!” with a frog playing guitar on the front.
He climbed on top of me, still wearing boxers, and started to kiss my neck and face and I could perceivably smell the sweat on his body. I kissed him back, trying to forget about how terrible this whole circumstance already was, when he suddenly violently attempted to flip me on top of him; instead I hit my head against the window and shouted, “FUCK.”
But the show goes on!
After an awkward acknowledgement of this unforeseen consequence, we continued kissing and it reached the point where he should have had a boner. My naked body was resting atop of his scrawny one, and my boobs were basically in his face. He was drinking it all in, but still no boner.
He then said, “I don’t have a boner.” What a great point! “Can you blow me?”
Unsure, I started to edge myself lower, but the smell of sweaty genitalia was really wretched so I decided to go with my gut and lie, “Well, actually, no I don’t know how to give blowjobs.” He responded, “Didn’t you have a boyfriend for a year?”
“Uh, yeah, but that’s besides the point. I’m not giving you a blowjob.”
Somewhere before giving up he decided he was hard enough and we tried to do the actual deed.
He got on top and there was a good amount of grunting, panting and forceful shoves, but no sex. This went on for about five minutes before I decided I’d had enough.
So, covered in his sweat and agitated, I said, “Okay this isn’t working, it’s probably a sign. Let’s stop.”
He said, “Okay but don’t you want something before you leave?”
Ew. He started to edge down, kissing the area around my belly button. I cringed so hard I thought I’d pass out. Then I shouted, “NO NO, IT’S REALLY OKAY I’M GONNA GET DRESSED.”
I got up, threw my clothes on, and raced out of the room and into my car where I decided whether or not I wanted to laugh or cry or cringe until death. I vowed to myself that I would forget this memory, making sure it would never reach my brother or either of my parents. Successfully, the memory is semi-well forgotten when two months later I received a text from Will saying, “Hey guess what I got for my birthday? Chlamydia!”