It was spring time. When I lost my virginity. Well, the first time it was Spring as well. Kevin Allen and I, were rummaging around a pile of tossed out items left behind from tenants who were evicted out of a house next door to Kevin. Pulling open a box, the sun just beginning to set behind one of Colorado’s famous “fourteeners” the local nick-name for a series of mountains surpassing fourteen thousand feet tall. From our small town these mountains were on the edge of the world. The box gave way, and Kevin and I peered into the box. The golden-setting sun highlighting a naked man’s torso on the cover of a porn mag. A gay porn mag. We both attempted to play it cool, yet this was difficult as both our hearts had stopped beating. It wasn’t long before we sat in his bedroom viewing the stack of magazines noticing the rising bulges in each other’s jeans. By the time it was completely dark out, I was welcomed inside of Kevin. Forced deep inside of him to scratch an itch he had just realized needing scratching.
It was also Spring when I lost my “other” virginity. Just last Spring to be precise. From a dashing smile on a rugby player. Built like a brick house, solid in build and mind. He corrected me, quickly when we began to chat. “Not rugby, I play Lacrosse. A coach actually.” He said with a solid voice that made me melt. I then knew how Lacrosse coaches were supposed to sound. He was a straight-up and grounded man. He was straight-up too, about being Trans.
It was in my bedroom when I pulled the tee-shirt from his massive frame. The cotton of the shirt didn’t stand a chance against his rippled and veiny biceps. I stuttered a little. Just as I had done with Kevin. Imagining the unknown. “How would I do this?” With Kevin, it was easier. I knew all the parts; they were the same as mine. I knew I wanted to be inside him, I knew how to accomplish the task. But…. with the Coach, I… had never seen, I mean not in real life… a vagina. “oh god.” My eyes darted everywhere. “Just relax.” The Lacrosse Coach said. We’ll take it easy. This was unfamiliar to me, as I am always the one in charge in the bedroom. Me the one to ensure my partner to relax. Now I wanted to be the one in charge, but had to listen for instruction. I listened intently to how the device worked. I practiced. The Coach praised me for picking up so quickly, assuring me I was a natural.
It. Was. Amazing. I finally figured out what the fuss was all about. Why those vagina things were so popular. Of course, only if they’re attached to a fireplug of a man. I mean, it truly helps if your vagina is attached to a solid muscle-bound Lacrosse player. If you’re gay, and had no intention in ever seeing one in real life.