My first time, I consented to sex｜beU Offical

This article was first published on beU Official on 2022-12-13, and later reprinted by Youthology. Original text🔗: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/YTj_c8MTAF5pReXRNV1brg

I was working as an editor at the original sex toy company when I wrote this article. When I was living in Hainan in February, a friend told me that this article had been moved to a pornographic website with pictures changed. It received thousands of likes and tens of thousands of views. Many young girls shed tears for the delicate expression and true expression of love. tears. I also changed from the initial anger that the original content was stolen to thinking that maybe this article has drifted and sunk in the Internet world and found the readers who really belong to it.

Author: I drank a little wine

Editor: okay

"It's not just me fucking you, you're fucking me too."

The moment I heard Ren say these words to me, I made up my mind to have sex with him.

My ex, little Z. When we were freshmen, we got to know each other through an ordinary debate simulation competition. He left a deep impression on me that day, because when he accepted my question, he showed a slow and timid temperament, which was different from the strength and eloquence of ordinary debaters. The most typical example is that when I questioned his data and gave him data that I more recognized, he replied: "Oh." I asked if it could be based on my definition, and he said: "Okay." I was used to being refuted, which made me temporarily confused. lock up.

He was wearing an ordinary navy blue shirt that day, his hair was short and not aggressive. Just like the first time I met him, in the next two years, he maintained a quality that could be praised as "gentle" or derogated as "timid". When there are many people, he will appear dull and silent, speak in a low voice, never post any social media, and has never been a noticeable presence. You know, many boys in college have uncontrollable stupidity and publicity, as well as naivety caused by shallowness.

In the eyes of many of my friends, he was not worthy of my quick thinking and eloquence at that time. In his own narrative, he's a BoJack Horseman-like, accomplished, lazy piece of trash. It seems that it is difficult for people to summarize the reasons why they fall in love with someone. When I fall in love with someone, they become clouds of fuzzy gas, an existence that is difficult to distinguish and cannot be summarized by abstract words. But he generally has many specific excellent qualities, such as rare honesty and soft qualities that do not seem to belong to men.

But dear readers, when you listen to the following story, you will understand why my editor said that about the first time, this is the best story I have ever heard, and it deserves to be written down .

01 Enlightenment

It is no exaggeration to say that before I met him, I was a sexually apathetic person. Although I read romance novels when I was in junior high school, I also observed my own physiological reactions during sex scenes in movies when I was in high school. But it seems that I have been accustomed to standing aside and watching for a long time about human beings' need to have sex, have desires, and need to masturbate. I became enlightened very late. I once thought that I was asexual.

Around the age of 20, it is an age when it is very easy to be lonely and very easy to fall in love. But looking back now, at that time, I regarded spiritual communication and cooperation as the most noble love, and too many topics related to the physical body would make me feel that it was some kind of "blasphemy". I think. Maybe I'm just afraid of becoming a carrier of objectification and gaze . In this matter, I also adhere to my consistent attitude towards many things - to watch calmly and "not cooperate".

The beginning of our relationship can now be summed up very simply. He pursued me, asked me to watch a movie, and became friends first. We discuss philosophy, past experiences, feminism and politics, and perspectives on everyday life. The only difference is that whenever I talk about anything, he looks directly into my eyes and listens with relish. His eyes fall on me so intensely, never interrupting me and letting me express my gratitude to him. Very good impression.

After a live house show in the summer, late at night when it rained heavily, we went to the bar to kill time. He drank some wine and wriggled and danced by himself, enjoying the alcohol and music, in front of my friends and I, who we didn't know very well at the time. I felt like I had seen the real him, nihilistic and lonely at the same time, but very honest about his vulnerabilities. It's weird, I started to have an inexplicable liking for him.

Early morning on a rainy night. Under the umbrella, our bodies were very close to each other, and something vague and ambiguous began to grow.

Then, during the summer vacation, he came to my city to look for me regardless, which actually made me very troubled as I don't like to go out during the summer. We just went shopping and ate normally, and I didn’t have much experience meeting boys alone. We spent a few hundred words together. I didn't know how to cherish ambiguous feelings at that time, and I was a person who wanted to get to the bottom of things. I directly asked why he came to me and what we would do after we got together, and he answered exactly. His answer "I like your cleverness" made me laugh and felt that it fit very well. We must first become friends who can communicate.

In the sweltering heat, after dinner we decided to go to his hotel to rest. On the way back, I suddenly wanted to hold his hand. I spread my palm upwards and he was held by me before he realized it. I'm just curious and want to try what it feels like. He suddenly slowed down as he walked, and I asked him how he felt. He hesitated, "It makes sense." It was only later that I found out that he had a physical reaction at that moment that day. For me, I felt that the special experience of an instant electric current passing through my heart described in the novels I read in the past did not happen.

That was the first time I moved from a public space to a private space with a boy. A lonely man and a widow live together in the same room, and the atmosphere is a bit subtle. I was nervous, but also very novel. Since we didn't have any experience, we didn't dare to do anything but get very close. He asked Mbti, which was not well known at the time, to give me a test. He read the explanations sentence by sentence and asked me how I viewed myself. We lay on our backs on the bed with our knees on the edge and talked a lot intimately. After that day, I started using a word that I felt for the first time - "hormones."

Hormones are the blush emitted by young bodies under the strong sunlight in summer. They are also some hormones released by male bodies mixed with the smell of sweat. They are the tension quietly approaching from the face leaning against the screen. I can’t tell what it is, but it makes my heart beat faster and I feel excited. I just smelled that animal instinct in the air, and it was the fact that we weren't touching that made it so alluring.

After that day, it was a month-long summer vacation away from home. He recommended American TV series to me, including the popular "Euphoria" and "Sex Education" at the time, as well as the over-sized "Shameless". Later he admitted that this was also a strategy of his. He knows that there are inevitable sexual elements in these American dramas, and the characters in the dramas are also very open about sex. Although he was shocked when he heard that I didn't masturbate or watch movies at all, he also respected my blankness about sex at the time and guided me slowly in a certain way. I joked warily that you were just trying to seduce me. He said there was nothing wrong with him wanting to have sex with the person he liked. Nothing to hide.

I was a person who was very hesitant about sex at the time. I couldn't say that I was conservative. I was just a little strange and curious, but I was more worried. Looking back, the rumors about the chaotic private life of the beautiful girl in the next class in high school, and the way girls in the class kissed each other when they were in love were gossiped about, made me feel very uncomfortable. Subconsciously, I don’t want to be one of the first among my peers to have rich sexual knowledge and have a sexual life. I don’t want to be too far away from everyone. Even though the university seems to promise us the legitimacy of love, providing an atmosphere where young lovers are everywhere on the road, there is always an endless stream of men and women coming in and out of the small hotel in front of the school. But everyone seems to be uniformly silent about sex.

After school started, I also began to become the girl downstairs in the college girls' dormitory who was always greasy and unwilling to leave. I also began to become a lover who secretly kissed and caressed my partner in the corner of the teaching building where no one was around. Falling in love is like that, and the rest of the world seems to disappear. The sweetness of love and the increasing intimacy of the relationship gave birth to many desires in my young body. Of course, arousal may be a more accurate word. Like what spring does to an entire valley.

How could one not want to go deeper, to be more intense, to explore more and more in the moment of being gently touched by the one he loves?

02 Agree

He made a specific request for sex to me at the end of the first month after school started. At that time, he always liked to joke, "When are we going to book a room?" I turned my eyes and refused.

I vaguely remember that he had to go home three days before the National Day. It was considered a small separation in the midst of a passionate love. It was also during this "little separation is better than new love" that I began to become aware of my own desires. Not only do I miss him mentally, I also miss him physically. I miss his thin lips, his sharp jawline, his well-proportioned and lean waist, and a certain special smell on his body. And this kind of The miss is very specific.

On the evening of October 3rd, he couldn't wait to come to me as soon as he returned to school. That day I just took a shower, put on a dress without any underwear, and went to meet him by the bridge. There were not many people on campus during the holidays. We walked on the campus avenue and turned into a dark path. There was no one around, so we stood hugging each other and kissing each other wildly. He asked in my ear, can I put my hand in? I nodded completely letting my instincts go. That wasn't the first time he touched my breasts, but it was the first time he put his hand into my underwear.

It felt weird. It seemed that in the dark, in a secret place, he touched my private hair with his fingers, invading my dangerous territory, like a snake wandering through a lush jungle, light and cautious. A person who had never masturbated felt the pleasure of approaching clitoral orgasm for the first time. Her legs felt so soft that she could hardly stand. She hung on his body and asked him to stop. And he eagerly asked me how I felt to confirm whether I was really happy. I suppressed my heavy breathing and almost moaning, and that was the end of the night. It was getting a bit cold at night, so we walked back, and he asked me if I wanted to rent a room and have sex tomorrow.

I couldn't say no anymore. He told me very seriously, don't always think that I am having sex with you, in fact, you are also having sex with me. He explained this sentence to me in a feminist context. Some degree of provocation. In fact, before I met him, my feminism was just a simple intuition. At that time, gender issues and feminism did not have such a big voice and attention on the Internet as they do now. I was only 19 years old at that time. He would take the initiative to talk to me about many feminism-related topics, ask me questions, and make me think, even though he never said that he was a feminist from beginning to end.

I was convinced by this sentence at that time. I realized that we should be equals in sex, rather than presupposing that I was the weak or victimized party. I also have agency in sex. I happily agreed to start our first night plan.

The next day, he spent a large part of his living expenses to book a five-star hotel priced at 800 a night to pick me up from my part-time job. I was very nervous that whole day, and I kept searching on Zhihu for experience posts about "living out with my boyfriend for the first time". By reading all kinds of self-reports, I calmed down in the information flow of other people's stories. My thoughts won’t fly around, and my anxiety won’t catch up with me.

Now I can still recall those Zhihu posts, most of which were sex diaries written by female posters in the first person. Rich in details and full of emotions. The first time is described as an accidental night, but there are many similarities. The way to initiate sex is often very subtle, ranging from promising to hold each other together after taking a shower, to feeling a hard object, to lingering affectionately. In the half-push, half-give way, boys often cannot find the entrance to the vagina correctly, or there is not enough foreplay, causing pain.

I don’t have any friends in my life with whom I can exchange experiences, and I don’t have any channels on the Internet to see a normal sex life story. From these stories, I learned a lot of “precautions.” For example, you may or may not get popular for the first time, and you may not necessarily enter the vagina for the first time. If you don't find the vaginal entrance, you can't say anything that will hurt a boy's self-esteem. All kinds of this.

But it seems, no one is like me. This day seemed to be specially planned to have sex for the first time in the evening, so that I couldn't do anything else that day.

We had dinner casually near the hotel, and I kept questioning this boy with another pair of eyes, whether it was worth it. He took the initiative to ask me, what "safe word" should we agree on? I had no awareness of this at all, and I said I hadn’t thought about it. I suddenly remembered that he once asked me, can I not wear a condom? I said "It's up to you" without thinking, and my inner OS said: "What does it have to do with me?", and he was so shocked that he cursed me.

In a way, I'm a very lucky person. It’s hard to imagine what my first sexual experience would have been like if he hadn’t given me correct sex education in these details time and time again. So where did he, who was also a virgin, learn this? He was embarrassed to say that he had looked up a lot of information on how to give his girlfriend a perfect sexual experience. When he speaks, he always lowers his head, peels off the dead skin on his fingers, and speaks slowly and quietly, like a good student who has done his homework seriously. Of course, this "homework" also includes the boy's need for recognition of a certain "self-esteem" and a sense of responsibility that is mainly his responsibility. More often, you can feel his humility, admitting that he doesn't understand, and admitting that he will learn to get better. You know, this attitude always softens a woman's heart and always works.

Although he is not a person with a virginity complex, he still feels that a girl’s first time is very important. He said that he wanted to give the best thing he could. This made me feel very reassured at that time.

When we entered the hotel lobby, I followed him. It's like a child trying to secretly do something for adults. It's strange. On the surface, he pretends not to care, but in his heart, he always has an immature mentality. This hotel is magnificent, which makes me feel uneasy but moved. The first major event in my youthful twenties was like a movie about to be screened, the non-existent countdown bell coincided with the rapid heartbeat.

03 first night

After entering the hotel, I wanted to take a shower first because I was too tired from work, and shyly declined his invitation to take a shower together. He said he was going down to buy condoms and asked me if there was anything else I wanted. I said I wanted to eat grapefruit.

After taking a shower alone in my room, I lay on the bed in my pajamas and squinted. My limbs and skin were red from the hot water, and the hotel quilt covered my shoulders. Hearing the door open, he walked in cautiously, and walked to my bedside after taking a shower. Started kissing me very deeply, neither of our kissing skills were great at the time but had improved significantly. The lips and teeth are lingering, and the swelling desire is quickly stimulated. I waited for him to take a shower, and quietly waited for him to come next to me for tonight's official "agenda."

He gently asked me if he could take off my clothes, and I threw them out from under the quilt. He guided me to help him take off his pants, grabbed my hand and guided me to touch him. He is a very lean type, and the muscles between his waist and abdomen are very well-proportioned. You can faintly feel the tightness of the muscles when you run your fingers across them.

He asked me to help him put on a condom. It’s also hard for me to forget the shock and fear I felt when I saw male genitals for the first time. Do I really want to put this swollen hard object into the narrow passage of my body? It is ugly but warm, and even if it does nothing, it is enough to make people feel some unquestionable majesty and power. I also doubt whether there is really enough space in my body to accept a "foreign object" that is completely from another.

I was very uneasy. And everything seems to be inevitable, we start to "act" like what we see in porn or movies. From the face to the lips, from behind the ears to the chest, slowly move down.

When I was about to take off my underwear, I got excited, closed my eyes and covered it with my hands and asked him if he could turn off the light. Shame was affecting me in a subconscious, habitual way. I didn't feel as confident in my body as I did when he was naked. No one has ever looked at my private parts, my naked body, including myself. I was also worried that there would be a strange smell there and that he would be frightened and stop loving me. At that time, I must have thought that my vagina was ugly and not worthy of being visited. The avoidant part of me thinks that we should just skip this part and start moving on to the next steps.

He looked me in the eyes very gently and said he didn't want to turn off the light, he wanted to look at me completely. His eyes, illuminated by the bedside lamp, were clean and innocent, just curious little beasts. I'm afraid of seeing the twisted face of men being eaten up by desire. He is waiting. He was asking for my approval in this moment. He seemed to divert his attention by constantly praising my soft skin, my beautiful breasts, and my slim waist. Then, I agreed and took it off on my own initiative.

In fact, I rarely recall this process seriously, but I can always recall the uplifting atmosphere at that time. Facing a person naked is actually something that can be defined as "horror" in nature. Especially under the light, it is a kind of exposure close to a private exhibition, accepting the inspection and "trial" from the other party's eyes. The gaze is like a scalpel, even the gaze of a lover.

At that time, I was sensitive and had a strong self-esteem. I knew that as long as he showed the slightest dissatisfaction and disgust, I would immediately feel "scratched" and run away with my inferiority complex. My withdrawn nature may make me never want to have sex with anyone in the world again. And every time, he would sincerely appreciate my body, push away my twisting and covering hands, and kiss my nipples and the flesh on my lower abdomen.

My state gradually warmed up, and he convinced me in many small moments, convincing me to spend my first time with him willingly. Nothing is taken away, except that this "first time" is a game we experience together. At that time, I could not help but feel a lot of love and intimacy towards him. To have completely naked contact and touch with another person's body is a unique and novel experience that requires huge trust and energy.

Naked skin-to-skin contact is a secret oath ceremony. The body becomes the oath before any words, and we swear to each other to be the closest person to each other in the world.

On our first night, when we reached the most critical step, he couldn't find the entrance, or he couldn't get in. Even though he was inexperienced, he became anxious and asked me if I could help him. I could even feel that he was a little scared too. But I found that because of my lack of understanding of my own body, I had no choice but to feel a little sorry. After trying it a few times, we gave up.

In fact, I kind of forgot how I felt that day, the atmosphere was sinking, but I didn’t remember that I was particularly disappointed. We lay on the bed next to each other, me in his arms. He apologized to me, and I comforted him by saying that many people couldn't get in the first time. I said, I feel very happy sleeping with you in my arms like this. I hope you don’t think this hotel is not worth the money. He hugged me tightly with great enjoyment, and we watched TV for a while while eating grapefruit.

The first night ended peacefully like this. After taking a bath together, we fell asleep holding each other, and then I woke up in confusion the next day.

Something magical happened. Before I fully woke up, I was in a state where I was not very conscious. It was like I had obtained a secret book of cultivation. The two meridians of Ren and Du were all opened overnight. I lay on the warm hotel bed and could completely feel my body and my vagina. I seemed to have the ability to let it stretch and contract freely. It's strange to say that at the same time, I was awakened by desires that were about to overwhelm me. I felt uncomfortable anywhere in my body. My skin is thirsty, my breasts are tight, and my vagina is itching.

Almost instantly, she was like a young helmsman embarking on a voyage for the first time. With some recklessness and instinct, she grabbed the old and rusty rudder of the sailboat amidst the bumps and bumps. She was too impatient, too eager to test the power of steering, too eager to conquer the sea!

Climbing up to his lying body in confusion, kissing and caressing her like superfluous dance steps and lines, touching the condom, lifting her hips, and getting on the horse. Whether it is the sea or the grassland, I am the unquestionable master who holds the reins. The pleasure of incorporating a hard object is mixed with strangeness and freshness. The flickering light beams released by the impact on the senses of the whole body make the brain shut down. He also woke up, without saying a word, twisting, sweating, and panting. Every rise and fall of his body was a wave that beat against me.

Very cool, really. The full and complete sense of wrapping brought by negative distance makes people feel that it can partially bear all the darkness and brokenness in a person's life. I later realized that it was the intimacy and failure the night before that made us all relax after the night and no longer had a clear purpose. I instantly enjoyed the physical play and the sense of emptiness and transcendence brought about by intimacy.

04 Desire

After having sex with him for the first time, on the subway back, he started asking me for my opinion on a stable frequency of sex. I hesitated. I suddenly became aware of the fact that I was no longer a virgin, I had already had sex. I feel like I'm in a weird state, but I can't tell the difference.

That was the first time I stayed up at night, and I almost tiptoed onto my little bed. I vividly remember that day, sitting on my bed and worriedly thinking, Oh my god, I am no longer like everyone else in this room. I was worried that my roommates would look at me differently and that I would become "different." But more than that - I am observing the changes in myself with great anticipation.

The whole day passed peacefully. No one paid attention to me, and I also found that I was not like what is often written in those romance novels, "After this night, she changed from a girl to a woman." I seemed to be myself, without "giving" anything. , nothing has been taken away from me, I am still completely myself. I can’t even remember when this myth of losing your virginity was planted in my head. But I clearly remember that the whole day after my first night, I was observing myself vaguely. In the end, I came to the conclusion, " This is not a big deal, so no one cares ." Sex is just sex, like a game.

After getting through that day smoothly, I told my story to many of my close female friends. I was the first person around me to have sex so quickly. It seems that in the process of telling it, I drove away the worries in my heart over and over again and affirmed the beauty of it.

After that, I started trying to masturbate. The more I understand my own sensitive spots, the better I adjust to my sexual experience with him. He always tries his best to make me happy first.

Almost every time after sex, he would review it with me. We both asked each other, "Can you hug me?" At first, I occasionally felt inexplicably lost at the end, as if after I completed the function of making love, the tenderness and attention towards me would disappear, and he would Will sleep like a pig's head to death. I told him during the review that I hoped he would take the initiative to hug me after finishing. Every time after that he remembered this need, put his arms around me, and kissed my forehead. He also often asks me if I can take the initiative to hug him when he feels vulnerable. Don't always let him take the initiative.

Intimacy, to me, means a completely transparent room, where we are unreservedly vulnerable, willful, and childish when we feel safe enough . I found that I tended to avoid and be cold-blooded when quarreling, and he taught me a lot, taught me how to communicate, how to look directly at the true love that occasionally shows its ugliness, and learn to accept these and expose the obstacles brought by first love. Idealized bubbles. Our original families are not very good. It is through the abundant and sure love that we give each other that we realize the brokenness and embrace the fragility and loneliness at the same time.

Making love, to some extent, is the same with intimacy. A good lover will listen, pay attention to your needs, admit mistakes, apologize to you, take his own responsibilities, and be willing to work hard to make the other person feel happy first. Making love is also a sign of intimacy.

Later, we made love in many different moods. Violent sex that is so intense that you want to tear each other to pieces after a quarrel, sex that feels like an affair when the relationship is in crisis, sex that is careless and lacks interest in each other's bodies when the relationship becomes dull and boring... every sex is... It is a unique little experiment in personal life. The combination of different emotions and places is an unreplicable and absolutely honest drama.

My first time was definitely lucky. Sex and love happen at the same time, and they are taken seriously enough to be exposed and explored in a safe atmosphere. Even though my sexuality and his are fluid now, writing this story from a very heteronormative perspective is not intended to treat him as "some exception." I often wonder, what can a lucky experience offer? Perhaps it is a kind of "love" confidence and encouragement, perhaps it is a "passing first time" standard and reference. After all, we have all seen too many heartbroken girls lingering in unequal and painful love. I wish my nineteen-year-old self could have seen more different types of narratives.

What he did was just an 80-point score that should be achieved. But I don’t want to deny the love I had in the past. Compared with most men, he is indeed remarkable and worthy of our maintaining a beautiful and open relationship to this day.

Sex, in my personal life, is rarely a drama about power play and competition. Over the past few years, it seems that sex, together with intimacy, in a special safe room, serves as a special path, helping me reach the part of my true self that I don’t want to face or hide, and at the same time expand my life. multi-dimensional and complex. I can be vulnerable and dependent on others, but I can also moan, demand, beg for pleasure, and even be perverse. Without being that perfect, independent and strong girl, I still deserve love and all the pure joy .

I also gradually understood the young desire surging in my body, just like those metaphors, lust surging in my body like waves. But to me, it’s more specifically an “itch”, a dry itch with bugs crawling under the skin, restless in the cracks of life. And I began to touch the shape of desire.

I also began to re-understand "sexy" after having sexual experiences. I gradually felt that I was already a ripe peach, maybe a grape, in short, it was already ripe, exuding charm and rich smell all over my body.