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men's first-time stories

men's first-time vagina story


men's first time story 116
The first thing I remember being told about the vagina was...

  It is strange. I have many vivid memories about sexual events and experiences. I don’t remember ever being told about the vagina. My family had a health encyclopedia of about ten books that had drawings of vagina before and after first sex and a penis. I must have been about 8 or 9 when I first read the text. Now it seems that it must have been pretty clinical and tilted to the recognized ethics of the time. There was something about virginity and the hymn that I couldn’t grasp. I remember noticing that the book would fall open to those pages and the may have been more worn than the rest of the set. I had read it a lot of times trying to understand.

When my friends and I first talked about vaginas...

  I cannot put an age on friends first talking about something so important. It seems that there was always something about pussies. I doubt that it was when I was exceptionally young. So, the talk started sometime. I just don’t remember the first event. I do remember an older guy talking about convincing a girl to let him put his penis in her “pussy.” According to his story, when the head was just getting in, she got upset and wouldn’t let him do anymore.

The first time I heard of menstruation, I thought...

  Again, I guess I knew a long time, but don’t remember the event or time. When I “kinda knew” high school friends were having menstruaton, I didn’t feel surprised. Sometimes when they seemed distressed, I thought they must have been their period. I felt sorry they had to deal with it.

The first time I saw/touched a vagina...

  I am pretty certain that it was before finding those pages in the medical encyclopedia. I remember the girl next door and I were very curious about seeing each other. It was so long ago, I cannot say today who started the conversation. I do remember her being all for the “I will show you mine if you will show me yours attitude.” In fact, I kind of believe she started the conversation. Our neighborhood was surrounding by farm land. The next part I remember was being out in a field and being very nervous, with just my underwear on and her with just her panties. We kept trying to get the other to pull them down first. Of course, we eventually did – probably together. My memories of us being completely naked seem much more relaxed than getting undressed. In fact, the rest seems like normal and healthy curiosity. She was blonde and I remember the back of her head, shoulders and fanny as she looked carefully at my penis. It was a real study. The little stubby thing was stiff. She was concerned about it fitting in my pants. She couldn’t understand that it was not always like that. She must have touched it. I don’t remember that sensation. When she stood, there was nothing much to see. It was like the little fold of a toddler who escapes the bathroom without her panties. I was disappointed, until she sat on our cloths and lifted her legs for me to see the rest. I remember clearly how it looked. I must have studied it carefully and cannot imagine not touching it under the circumstances. I still did not understand much. Later, when I read in the encyclopedia about young virgins and older women, I still had trouble reconciling the memory of seeing hers with the drawings. Maybe if I had seen the drawing first, I would have known that the lips could open to reveal the whole of the drawing. I don’t think we ever talked about it again for a few years. When we were older, I mentioned seeing her. She talked about it as though I had gotten her into something she felt bad about. For a long time, I blamed myself for something she didn’t like. Now, I think something changed in her, which was probably because of events unrelated to me. In the 1950s, maybe her parents imposed ideas of her vagina being immoral or something. The first time I remember touching a vagina was much later. I must have been about 17 or 18, dating a 15 or 16 year old. We had dated for a while. We talked about sexual things as though we were not ready and would not. I would usually masturbate before seeing her, to relieve my pressure to have risky sex when “we were not ready.” I thought there would be less chance of crossing a mutually agreed line. We did kiss and hug a lot. Somewhere along the way, we began rubbing each other through our cloths. One evening, in the car in her driveway, we touched each other by filling into the underwear. The wetness of her vagina was new to me, as was the feeling of her fingers holding my penis. We undressed below the waste, still saying we would not actually have sex. I was pinned on my back on the car see. She was on top, rubbing the outside of her vagina on the shaft of my penis. Then, like magic, it just slipped into her. It was like one of her strokes went past the end. When she went back the other way, I could not believe how it felt. She seemed unable to stop humping me. I tried very hard to concentrate on not ejaculating, but that was no use. It just flowed into her, and she just kept humping me. I remember my penis feeling sensitive, almost like pain, but she seemed like she couldn’t stop working her vagina on it. I think I ejaculated more that once before she finally stopped. Then we were scared of pregnancy until her next period. It was not long before we found a way to get birth control pills for her. After that, we would have sex with as little as fifteen minutes of privacy. It was the 1960s and very few were worried about diseases. It felt good bare. There were times she just pulled her panties to the side and I pulled my penis out of my paints to have sex on a couch or anything soft.

Since then my perception/experience of vaginas (changed/hasn't changed)...

  That woman and I eventually married. There were long periods when the relationship was exceptionally good. And, there were periods when it was a very troubled marriage. In a troubled time, there was a divorce. Very soon after the separation, I found that there seemed to be many women willing and egger to share their vagina with me. It was around 1979 – 1980. People were still not very concerned about wearing condoms. Birth control pills seemed to be all that was needed. I practiced learning to control the moment of ejaculation, during masturbation and with partners. I thought it was critically important to time the release with my partner’s climax. I worked hard at learning the skills. I got very tired of the almost random multiple partners after a time. It seems I married the next one that came along. She was abusive. After eleven years, I was in another divorce and learned that the first wife had been diagnosed bi-polar. It was at that time, about 1995; I met a lady who quickly became a very good friend. She was also in a traumatic divorce and we were both primary care for our children. We met about twice a month to share sex, without ever really seriously considering marriage. It was wonderful, in the ways she wanted to use her vagina for my pleasure and I wanted to give her vagina pleasure from my penis. We were both very tired of masturbating within bad marriages.. Sometime during the year of meeting this friend, I realized that a vagina stimulating my penis is virtually always enjoyable, but the difference is enormously better when the vagina and penis are intrigue parts of a good friendship. After about a year, the sex of that relationship ended, as we worked our way out of our divorce proceedings and into lives as single parents. I started dating a woman I had known well for ten years. I was having sex with another truly good friend. We married and life is wonderful. Unfortunately, it was not until this marriage that I learned how much joy I can feel from stimulating my wife to climax a couple of times with my fingers, before slow and controlled stimulation of her vagina with my penis in her. She seems to enjoy the whole thing more and I don’t feel I need to use so much of my attention holding back my ejaculation. When it is time, I can just feel it flow through my penis into her vagina.

What I would want my daughter to know about her vagina...

Now I think of granddaughters, under 3 years old. I would want them to somehow learn the difference between the ordinary feel of a penis in their vaginas and sharing that feeling with a truly good friend. For me, at age 59, I have very little desire for feeling my penis in a vagina unless I am sharing with a good friend. It took me too long to learn that.

Usually, I call a vagina a...

I think the word vagina more clearly conveys the importance of the gift a friend can give me. It seems to fit much better in a friendship than pussy or other words used. Those seem to fit the many times I used my penis as a dick to create a sloppy mess of fluids oozing out of a pussy. While those are not bad memories, they are nothing compared to the feel of a good friendship vagina.

This conversation makes me think...

There are several women around me, whom I consider very good friends. Like my current wife before we dated, I have carefully avoided anything like a sexual relationship with them. Since I found this website a week ago, I have been reading what women have written. It has helped me think about my own feelings of the role a vagina can play in a friendship. Clearly the women who had their first times with friends had better experiences. As I think about this, I guess I might be more inclined to think about whether I may sometime feel the vaginas of these friends, other than my wife. I guess I hope I do, but I do not want to disturb my friendship with my wife or them by introducing something so powerful. The vagina is truly powerful in itself. It is much more powerful with the penis of a good friend.

 
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