THE FIRST TIMES (Part 2)

Previously on THE FIRST TIMES…

*

Any time someone asks me, as part of a conversation, “So what was your first time like?” I like to clarify with a question of my own: “First time doing what exactly? First time I kissed a boy or first time I had sex? Because they both happened at different times.”

When I saw that meme about the fantasy versus reality of first sex posted on Instagram, I thought to myself how this kind of reality does not exist for us gay Nigerians.

I may be wrong, but I don’t think any boy or girl who is queer grows up dreaming about the perfect way to lose their virginity to someone of the same sex. We’re usually too busy getting surprised by our feelings for the same sex, and while we’re still trying to understand what’s going on, bam! We’re having sex. My generation didn’t have romantic films that told same-sex stories that would have fueled our imagination about what a perfect first time would be like. And when our parents were not busy telling us that sex (with the opposite sex) would take us straight to hell, the enlightened ones, who’d actually have proper conversations about the birds and the bees, would never think to touch on same-sex education.

So, there were no fantasies. No beautiful imaginations of that perfect moment when I would spread my legs, position my ass and moan while clutching the satin sheets of a bed as the perfect lover slides his perfect cock perfectly inside me.

A conversation with friends when I was 15 was how I even got to know that penetrative sex was a thing. All the education I got was a crash course on my friends’ sexcapades.

And that night, as I settled into the arms of the boy who I’d been exclusively kissing and jerking off with for nearly a year, I told him I wanted to try another style.

“What style?” he murmured as he planted kisses on my face and neck.

“The one where you put your dick inside my asshole,” I said.

He stilled, and then drew back to stare at me. It was nighttime and there were no lights on in the dormitory. But I could feel the surprise and curiosity sharpening his gaze on me.

“How do you know about that style?” he asked.

“Have you always known about it?” I returned his question with my own.

“Yes,” he said.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I said, feeling distressed and not knowing why.

“Because you’re such an ajebo,” he said with a chuckle to take the sting off his words. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in that style.”

In that moment, I didn’t know whether my determination to have anal sex was because I wanted to try something new or because I felt like I wasn’t being the adequate lover to him (let’s call him Don). I suspect it was more of the latter though.

“Well, let’s try it,” I said as I began to move on the bed, shucking my boxers and shimmying till I was backing him.

My heart was pounding – whether from dread or excitement, I knew not – as I felt him pull down his own boxers. His erection prodded at the back of my legs. I heard him spit into his hands and rub the saliva over his cock. He rubbed some more saliva over my asshole, before positioning himself behind me and gently digging in.

At this time, my heartbeat was basically roaring in my ears and I was as tense as a tightly-wound bowstring. As I felt his cock push inch by inch into my virgin asshole, as tiny flashes of pain began to shoot through my body from down there, I was already regretting my decision to do this. I gritted my teeth and tried to focus on the love I had for Don.

You love him, so you have to do this! I began chanting in my head.

You love him, so you have to do this! You love him, so you have to do this! You love him, so you have –

Oh no, you DON’T HAVE TO DO SHIT!

Pain had exploded throughout my body as his cock pressed past the inner muscles of my asshole – excruciating pain that had me bucking forward, away from the enemy that was his penis. A sharp gasp escaped my mouth and I began to tremble, even as the knowledge that I had failed Don swelled inside me.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” he whispered frantically into my ear as I whimpered repeatedly from the pain. “I’m sorry… I know it’s painful. We don’t have to do it if it’s too painful for you.”

“Good! Please let’s not,” I said with breathless relief. Then suddenly feeling attacked again by disappointment, I turned to face him, saying pleadingly, “Are you sure though? I mean, I’d feel bad if you feel like I’m not giving you what you want.”

Don chuckled. That mirthful sound was something that was uniquely his. Then he kissed me and said, “It’s fine. You’re an ajebo and I like you like that.”

As he kissed me again and I kissed him back and our intimacy deepened, I felt the pain in my asshole receding, and I wondered just why the heck my friends found anal sex pleasurable.

For the remainder of my sexual activity in secondary school, I would stick to the pleasures I was familiar with. None of that anal nonsense, please; I was much too vanilla for that.

The next time it would come up would be in my first year in the university. I was 17. I’d traveled for a weekend from school with my best friend to his place in Port Harcourt. Immediately after dropping our things in his house, we were off to visit some of his friends.

One of them was a guy named Gift (real name). I saw him that first time and I was immediately smitten by him. He seemed to like me too as he flirted incessantly with me.

My friend and I eventually left the place, but not before Gift had made me promise to come see him the next day – this time, on my own.

And I did. I was dying to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him. He wanted to kiss me too, to hold me…

And to fuck me as well.

I felt terror seize and stiffen my body the moment I felt him moving his cock in the direction of my ass.

“What are you doing?” I said, remembering that night with Don back in secondary school.

Gift looked at me. “You’ve never done it before?”

“No,” I said emphatically.

“You should. It’s nice. You’ll enjoy it.”

“No, I won’t,” I rebutted. “I’ve tried it once. It was very painful.”

“I know it is,” he said. “But I promise to be very gentle. You won’t even feel much of the pain. Just trust me.”

I didn’t believe him. But I allowed myself to be persuaded. He began kissing me again. We kissed for a very long time. It was very sensual and arousing, interrupted only when he took his lips from mine to take my nipples in his mouth. This foreplay was so prolonged and intense, and he was so intent on stoking my passions, that I found myself surprised by the fact that when his cock went inside me, I barely even noticed. I mean, I knew when he lubed up. I felt him going in. but except for the pinch of pain I felt, there wasn’t much ceremony to his initial penetration.

Even as he picked up pace and began thrusting in and out, he never let up on the intensity of his attention to our foreplay. His lips and tongue on my mouth and nipples and his hand on my cock kept me very aroused and distracted from the pain of his thrusts.

That was officially my first sex. I was no longer a virgin, and the guy who took me over that threshold was one of the best lovers I’d ever had. As we climaxed and collapsed next to each other, sweaty and replete with sexual satisfaction, I could finally understand why my friends in secondary school found anal sex to be the peak of all sexual pleasures.

EPILOGUE: This story is dedicated to the dearly departed soul of Gift, the young man whose lovemaking claimed my virginity and gave definition to my sexual identity. Gift passed away a few years ago, and even though we hadn’t been in touch for some time before his demise, I will always hold the fondest memories of him in my heart.

Rest on in peace, Gift.

Written by Pink Panther