Sophomore year in high school. Trying to fit in just so I could manage to go unnoticed. Most of the girls in my all-girl Catholic high school had lost their virginity by now—giving in to our fellow Regis boys across campus. Talked about it all the time like they knew what was up—high school’s version of 30-somethings discussing orgasms over Eggs Benedict and mimosas at some SoHo café.
Although I didn’t hang out with the popular girls I was considered one of them. Not by choice but socio-economic status. There were the haves and the have-nots and as much as I wanted to be somewhere in the middle—I was among the haves—whose daddies bought us cars and diamond earrings for our Sweet Sixteens. Our mothers played cards together and went to Tupperware parties and took pills and planned our futures.
The have-nots hated us. I completely understood why.
I was for all intent and purpose a dork. A true geek. And I liked it that way. I hid behind my glasses and devoured books—Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Austen, the Bronte sisters—eating my lunch at the cool table with my face buried in a book, while my “friends” talked about fashion and made fun of the girls in second-hand uniforms as they walked by.
I was determined to get good grades so I could get the fuck out of there.
Every once in a while I would give in to a Regis boy—make out in the back seat of his car while rock ballads poured out of the tape deck. But it always ended up with me asking him to take me home, exhausted from fighting him off. His inexperienced hands groping my breasts over my blouse… dry-humping my thigh… trying to pry my knees open in hopes of getting to the holy grail. Virgin snatch in white-cotton-days-of-the-week panties.
My savior in this high school hellhole was Terry. A blonde bombshell in a sea of Italians, Chicanas and Puerto Ricans. She and her sister—a senior—had amazing breasts and bad reputations. But I could relate to them. They were easy... but they were real.
She came from money. Parents had a condo in Vail. A stocked liquor cabinet, weed and a hot tub. Good White Catholics.
It was cold and clear that night. Snow was on the ground. Parents were in Vail for the weekend. Terry and her sister were looking for trouble and I was in the back—along for the ride. We found what we were looking for in three college boys down from Boulder.
Somehow we split up and Terry and I wound up in one of the boy's Jeep. "Let's go to our house," Terry said without hesitation. Me in the back seat with a strapping 20-something man, cropped black hair, amazing brown eyes and a smile that was a recipe for disaster.
And we were back at the house with the liquor cabinet, the weed and the hot tub.
I didn't drink yet. Or smoke weed. I didn't want to get in the hot tub. But Terry and her sister stripped off their clothes... the boys' eyes wide with enthusiasm... as they jumped in the hot tub in their brightly colored bras and panties.
And me. Refusing to take off my blouse, sitting on the edge of the crowded hot tub dangling my feet in the water feeling nervous in my day-of-the-week panties. The bottom half of my uniform crumpled in the corner.
Terry and her sister, high and tipsy, wasted no time choosing their lucky contestants... getting busy as I tried to divert my eyes. And the strapping 20-something looked at me and smiled. Disaster had a plan.
I felt flush. Stupid. Shivering. Under a microscope. And he stepped out of the hot tub... boxers sticking to his muscular thighs... wrapping a towel around his waist. He reached his hand out to help me up and without hesitation I followed him back into the house... up the dark staircase... and into the guest room.
He told me his name was Andrew. Staring at my feet I whispered my name. He lifted my chin with his finger and kissed me. Full lips. His tongue was soft and warm, waiting for my cues. Other boys had no idea how to kiss a girl. Shoving their tongues in my mouth exposing themselves for what they really were--impatient and inexperienced.
He laid me on the bed, pressing his body against mine. His hand moved under by blouse and rested on my belly as he continued to explore my mouth with his tongue. There was no hurry.
And a switch was flipped. This was sex. I could feel my body relax for the first time. My hands weren't preoccupied with pushing him away but exploring unfamiliar territory, running my fingers over his back... his arms.
And somewhere between me letting go of all of my preconceived notions and taking in every curve of his torso, his fingers began slowly and deliberately unbuttoning my blouse... pushing the fabric aside exposing my breasts to the cold night air.
He looked at me, at my naked breasts and kissed me again moving his mouth over my neck... my collarbone. I gasped the first time I felt his wet tongue on my nipples, sucking so tenderly I could feel butterflies in my belly.
Moans came from my mouth as his hand moved over my panties. Friday embroidered on the front just beneath the pink bow. Shame. Scared. But unable to control the feelings I was having.
I could feel his hand move inside my panties... his fingers exploring... opening me up and working his finger inside me. Moaning in my ear as he moved his finger back and forth, the palm of his hand massaging my clit.
I didn't want it to end. He moved down my body, sliding my Fridays off and tossing them to the floor. I started to close myself off. I wasn't ready for this. For him. 'Relax' I heard him say and before I could move away from him his mouth was kissing the inside of my thighs. His fingers played with my pubic hair as his mouth moved closer and closer to the holy grail.
The flick of his tongue sent shivers down my spine. My fingers in his hair, my legs relaxed, open, inviting. Small wet circles in places I didn't even know existed. Exposing virgin snatch with his fingers, he ran his tongue over and over... my hips rocking back and forth... crying out his name.
And then it happened. First in the pit of my stomach... then in my legs... all the way up. Fear rushing through me as this uncontrollable feeling took over. He was ravenous. The more I rocked the faster his tongue moved in and out of my hole. Drinking me in.
I lay there. Spent. He moved up to my mouth. Kissing me with more force than before. He was letting me taste it all. And then he rolled over and we laid there in the dark until we both fell asleep.
In the morning, the boys were saying their goodbyes. Andrew did not get lucky last night, although I'm quite sure he was the only one. Before he left he kissed my forehead, smiled and told me to "save it."
It wasn't sure what he meant by that. But it all made sense when I found who I was saving it for.
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