How I Lost My Virginity

in #nigeria6 years ago

What I understand about virginity is, Virginity is a state of innocence and inexperience in a context or format. It's a state of being naive and in the most popular context we know, Virginity is the state of never having sexual intercourse of any sort. Virginity can also mean chastity, maidenhood, or chasteness. Virginity is a sign of purity or pureness. Cleanliness and in the religious context, it's a proof in a certain par of holiness.

I lost my virginity at a very young age. Back then I was naive and inexperienced, oblivious to life's warpedness and complexities. As a child I was filled with huge amounts of curiosity. So many things were left so haphazardly explained. I wanted to explore and do things I saw people do. It had all started with somebody close to me. Someone whose name I wouldn't mention to make sure this conversation has a certain level of confidentiality. She was close to me and we were very fond of each other. She was some years older than me but it wasn't obvious because I look way older than my age.

We were close to the extent that she visited me during the weekends. We barely see during weekdays because of school and home lessons. And on that fateful day she had come visiting. As usual we watched TV and by 3:00 the electricity goes off. We advance to my room and play with my cards and talk about things that happened during the week. On this fateful day it was not so. The week before something had happened. I had kissed her unexpectedly. It was a reflex action. I had slaved on my impulse and she gave it. After it all emotional bubbled-up and words were to say a thing. I had arrived at a conclusion that she wouldn't show up this week. The scene had played over and over again in my head through out that whole week and I lost concentration. When she arrived I was thankful. After exchanging pleasantries I sought to apologize but she had cut me short. Unfortunately the electricity had gone earlier than usual and we went into my room and as we sat on the rug a heavy awkward silence befell the both of us. I rummaged my mind, trying to think of something light to toss into the air sadly my mind was as blank as an A4 paper. After a long while I turned to her direction and our eyes met. She scooted a little closer and I could feel a heated sensation coming from my trousers. My heartbeat quadrupled and a huge phlegm formed in my throat. Her eyes engulfed me, my senses, and everything else. My blank mind became blanker than blank. Our mouths were inches away and she leaned for a kiss which at first I was rigid for and later responded. The next thing she was unbuckling my trousers and peeling her short flows gown into to rug. The whole thing was a bit confusing. The thrusts were kind of good, what I didn't get was why she winced when she wasn't in pain. It all ended and something came out of my penis. It freaked me out. I thought it was white blood but she calmed me down and explained that it was normal for this substance to come out after I felt that heightened sensation. This sensation she called orgasm.

After that we became surprisingly closer. She showed me a lot of things. And we did these things some weekends for a couple of months. Before she came crying one day and announced that her family was moving to Port Harcourt. That moved me. She left, one day, without a goodbye.

I haven't seen or heard from her since then. I searched for her on Google, facebook, instagram, and twitter. No one with her name. It's like she was wiped out of existence. I still have a picture of her. Scared, but still visible.

It wasn't until some years later, during a sex education lecture that I had realised what we did that day I had lost something. I felt betrayed and used, I felt like a douche when I was told that this thing was something valuable; one of the criterias needed for making heaven. I prayed vigorously that period to no avail behind closed doors. I prayed that God forgave me.

After her, I had met different people. We've had moments like that. But nothing is to be compared to the first. Our first. I cannot forget it. Because on that day I had lost something valuable. Something I would have kept for the right person.

Or maybe she was the right person.

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