The Night I Gave Away 2/3 of my Virginity

Content warning: Graphic sexual details

TL;DR My almost first time was nothing special, in fact it hurt, it was rushed, and left me with some more insecurities. However, it was necessary and while the guy was kind of a douche, I still felt safe enough with him to try.

I had my first kiss at 22. I touched my first penis at 22. I was fingered for the first time at 22. After several years of waiting for any guy to notice me and years of having guys online say horrible things to me, it was finally happening. Some guy thought I was hot, and I’ll be damned if I was going to let the opportunity slip through my fingers. If first base is French, second is feel, third is finger, and fourth is fuck I went from base zero (I don’t watch baseball, okay) to base three in a matter of two hours on a hot summer night when I was 22.

Dating is weird when you can’t ever be alone…real weird. There’s no privacy. If I know I’m going to have sex I make my caregiver clean me up beforehand; smelling like a person with a disability with unmet hygiene needs is my worst nightmare. If I really like the guy, I’ll have my caregiver put me in lingerie. If I’m not wanting to feel extremely disabled, I’ll have my caregiver put me in the bed and get me out when the guy leaves. So yeah, absolutely no privacy.

At 22, I didn’t have any caregivers at night. My mom was my primary caregiver at night. And when do most dates happen? If you said night, you’re a winner. Luckily for me, this guy was raised by a single mom and had several sisters, plus at that time online dating was still new enough to be sketchy. So, when I told him I was bringing a friend that would hang out in the vicinity he was cool with it. And a few days later when he wanted to meet again, I told him I wouldn’t have a friend to drive me; my mom would have to drop me off and I also told him he’d have to be okay with helping me out, he was cool with all of it.

I think I knew that sex was possibly going to happen on our second date that night. I didn’t even shave my legs for it because I didn’t want to go all the way and I was naive enough to think that would stop me. For our entire first date he talked about how he couldn’t wait to have sex with me; he had never had sex with a girl in a wheelchair; I was hot; blah blah blah. It made me a little uncomfortable, but it turned me on even more. It was something I had never experienced before. This guy thought I was sexy before he met me in person and even after he met me, which up until that point had been unheard of.

My mom was happy to drop me off at the park for several hours. She showed the guy how to use my suction machine (a device used to suck up my spit because I can’t swallow) on the off chance I would need it, as I wasn’t using it as much back then. Then she told me to text her when I was done. It was awkward and I haven’t had her meet any of my guys since then. But it was what I had to do at that time, and I was grateful that him and my mom were fine with it.

Anyway, he made up some excuse for us to walk to his apartment it was just a few minutes from the park. Everything else happened in a blur. His shirt came off because it was 90°. His lips brushed mine. He asked if I wanted to see his dick and touch it. I said yes and the next thing I knew his member was lying on my thigh and he was grabbing my hand to help me touch him. He asked if he could touch me…everywhere and again I said yes. I was so nervous I don’t know how I got through it. But I remember being ready to mess around some and being comforted by the fact that he asked for my consent every step of the way.

“Do you want the bed or the couch?” he asked.

And I thought about it briefly. I thought about how I’d be completely at his mercy when he took me out of my chair. I thought about how he understood about 85% of my speech impediment, but he’d probably understand me if I said something important. I thought how easy it’d be for him to unintentionally hurt me while transferring me. And through thinking all this, I heard a voice in the back of my head saying I’d never see him again.

“Ummm bed. But just so we are clear, you cannot stick your dick in me,” I said.

There was nothing romantic about what followed. I instructed him how to move me (FYI: sex and life in general are easier if you’re disabled and get used to different people picking you up early on). I laid on a sheetless bed that was covered in dog hair and a towel. With his fingers pounding away in me like I was a porn star and not a virgin who had never been touched, I told him repeatedly how bad it hurt, and he assured me that it was supposed to hurt the first time. In my innocence I believed him. But I also believed that his well-endowed penis would hurt more than I could handle. Again, I told him no penis. A few minutes later he pulled his fingers out of me and held them in front of me.

“Damn, look at how wet you are,” he said with awe and lust in his eyes (remember this detail for later). And truth be told, it was that exact moment I got addicted to the power of sex. But I digress, this post isn’t about that.

When he had finally accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to let him penetrate me with his penis that night we finished up. At one point he saw I was bleeding and legit laughed when he said, “ha I popped your cherry. That’s why I put a towel under you.” He thought my disgust at the blood was cute. Apparently 22-year-old guys aren’t significantly more mature than high school guys.

He tried to put my panties back on and I made him wipe me off. I wasn’t going to go home to my mother wet and bloody. Back in my chair I told him my vagina still hurt and like a true gentleman he reminded me he was suffering from incurable blue balls 🙄. I knew if I saw him again, I would have to be ready to have full on sex.

On our walk back to where my mom had dropped me off, I was so excited to finally be in the secret sexual world everyone else was in. I knew one guy thought I was hot so others would too.

“Your hair looks a little messy,” my mom said back at our house.

“Oh, it was windy at the park,” I lied effortlessly.

24 hours later I got a text from the guy that read something like this:

I can’t do that again. Cleaning you up afterwards really grossed me out. And I don’t think I could suction you if I have to. It grosses me out too much.

I knew then that was it. I couldn’t date someone that appreciated my wetness when it behooved him but couldn’t handle cleaning me off. And I definitely couldn’t date someone that couldn’t suction me. We’d just gotten lucky the night before that I didn’t need it.

He’d text me again a year later, but I never saw him again after that summer night when I was 22.

But I’m grateful he required my consent for every move, and I was grateful he opened up the sexual door for me even if it took me two more years to actually lose my virginity.

Moral of the story for you: When it comes to sex only go as far as you are willing to go and don’t feel bad about it.

Moral of the story for the non-disabled reader: Don’t say you’re comfortable with an aspect of someone long enough to get what you want and then bounce because you were never actually comfortable in the first place.