Virgin's First One Night Stand

I usually take dating pretty seriously. I like when a guy comes out to my town for the first date and meets me at a coffee shop and we can get to know each other a little bit in an easygoing environment. For the most part, I don't get sexually involved until the third or fourth date and/or we have approached a mutual agreement on our relationship. Mind you, I have been known to approach things differently on occasion and it usually jumps up and bites me and I retreat back to my safe way dating.

Well yesterday, I once again journeyed out of my comfort zone and met a guy at a bar in downtown Seattle. My reasoning for this was that I would be in Seattle anyway for Rope Enthusiasts Group. We met at the Whiskey bar and each shared a couple drinks and enjoyed each other's company but it was still early. He suggested we take a cab up to Captiol Hill and visit some other places up there and I agreed because I liked what I saw so far and wanted to continue enjoying his company.

What resulted was three more bars, three more drinks, and three more shots which of course equated to me being completely plastered. At some point leading up to that, he started getting more touchy-feely and I was definitely welcoming it. His arm around me here, him pulling me onto his lap there, even sneaking kisses here and there. Warning bells probably should have been going off in my head because again, I don't usually get that physical so quickly. It probably didn't help that he was an attractive black guy with muscles that made me swoon. After my last drink at the last bar, my memory gets a little fuzzy on what happened.

I remember being too drunk to even think about driving home. I remember him saying we could take a cab back to his place and we could cuddle. I remember being worried about my car being towed if I wasn't back by 1am. I remember crying and being a bit of an emotional wreck. I don't remember arriving at his place or removing my underwear. I do remember giving him head. I also remember turning my head and puking over the side of the bed because my gag reflex was much more sensitive because of the alcohol. I do remember that once I found out that what he meant by 'cuddle' was to have sex with me, I resisted, put my dress back on, and started to leave. I don't remember why I stayed. I do remember him having both vaginal and anal sex with me and that I enjoyed both the pain and pleasure involved. I also remember him telling me to be quiet because I couldn't contain my moans of pain or pleasure.

At some point during the night, between getting up to drink water, going to the bathroom, forcing myself to vomit, I must have gotten some sleep. He held me close and I didn't know what to feel except my pounding head and aching stomach. And yet I still wanted him. Again. Maybe it was because I had already done it, I was no longer a virgin, so how could doing it again be any worse? He was spooning me and I was able to arouse him enough by moving my butt up against him and after a short time, he took that as a cue. He took his hand and massaged the area of my clitoris and then rubbed his cock along my ass and my pussy back and forth, waiting for me to moisten up.

I have to admit to hoping he'd put it in my ass again because the anal from the night before was more memorable. Then again, I've always fantasized about anal anyway. He eventually placed me on my back and got on top of me, spread my legs wide and put his cock in my pussy. It didn't go in easy and it was definitely at least partially painful but he kept going and as he set into a rhythm the pleasure outweighed the pain and I wrapped both my arms and legs around him. After a few minutes he was obviously getting close and asked if it was ok if he came inside me and I said yes....so he did. We both went back to sleep again for a while and at some point, I finally got up and called a cab.

It's hard to say what was going through my head at that point. I felt a mixture of satisfaction, yearning for more, and yet sadness as well. There's also of course the stupidity of not using safe sex. I may have gotten lucky this time because we both are clean but I won't really know that for sure until I get retested again in a few months.

It wasn't until the cabbie mentioned that if he's with a girl that's drunk, he won't touch her, that the word rape ever even came to mind. And suddenly the sadness started overwhelming me. If I had not been drunk, I wouldn't have had sex with a guy I only just met. I would not have lost my virginity to a guy that I will probably never see again. I know these things to be fact. And now I'm caught up in a turmoil of emotions. I liked the sex. I liked his body. I want more. And I showed that by followup sex in the morning that was most definitely consensual. Yet I know I don't just want sex, I need so much more. I need love, I need romance....along with the sex. And now I feel a little cheap, like a prostitute used for a one night stand. And yet a part of me still craves more of the same.

There was definitely a point where my submissive side stepped in last night and I gave my all to him. Yet I don't want to give that to just some guy I met that day. I want it to be special, to mean so much more than that. But now that I've given that for the first time, I feel like a barrier has dropped. My sexual boundaries that I held so strong to for so long are falling away and I'm scared. I don't want to take this and let everything go.

I'm changed forever now and I don't know what that means to me quite yet.