AJ’s mother had an old bottle of shitty white wine forgotten in the fridge. We opened it after my private serenade to him.
“I - I can’t get over your voice.” AJ stammered, pouring the liquor into Tupperware cups. “It’s so . . . so fucking amazing. I had no idea how talented you are.”
“Thanks. It feels nice to hear that for the first time.” I was elated that my singing was as good as I’d hoped. “This has been the day for discoveries, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” AJ agreed.
He handed me one of the purple plastic cups. I accepted the drink without hesitation. I’d only had booze once before and it was beer. AJ snuck some bottles from his mom’s stash to the baseball field once. The warm, soothing sensation that penetrated my limbs from the yeast fermented alcohol was addicting. I hoped for the same effect from the wine, especially after my nerve-wracking performance.
“Are you telling me that I’m the first person to ever hear you sing?” AJ was flabbergasted.
“My family isn’t exactly encouraging, and my friends, well, they’re not really friends.” My voice fell timorous. “I would never open-up to that level for anyone but you.”
We were back in the living-room sitting on the couch. AJ had turned on the radio. The grandiose sounds of Queen’s “Under Pressure,” resonated in the background.
“Thank you.” AJ’s glass rose in the air. “Cheers, to the hopeful success of our futures.”
Turning my body to face him I married his encouraging smile with mine. “Cheers.”
Our cups clapped in the traditional fashion. I sipped the sweet flavor of the zinfandel. Rolling the yummy taste around my tongue I swallowed with pleasure. AJ took down the gulp of wine that he swigged without so much as a wince. The limited effect that alcohol had on him was proof that his tolerance was more seasoned than mine.
“I guess I didn’t fully realize how much you love jazz and blues, since we listen mostly to rock.” AJ noted. “You haven’t really described the sound of your music. Is it more like jazz or blues, or just influenced by both?”
I was turned on to the attention that I was being lavished with. The affection was rarely ever allotted to me. On occasion, one of my low self-esteem acquaintances at school offered a compliment on my figure or eye color. But AJ’s flattery was genuine, addicting.
“Those genres are more of an influence.” I explained, placing my cup on the coffee-table. “My style is more of a hodgepodge of everything I love: jazz, blues, rock, heavy metal, classical, and everything in between. There’s really no name for my category of sound.”
AJ looked on in continued interest.
“Well, be sure and let me know when one of your songs is ready to be heard. Your strong voice, no doubt, would sound perfect pared with just about any style.”
I leaned over to grasp my cup again. The wine was going down nicely.
“Are you up for a movie?” AJ asked, rising from the couch.
“Yeah, sure.” I too, lifted from my seat, making for the VHS-shelf abutting a 19-inch TV. “What do you have for choices?”
“A little of this, a little of that. Why don’t you pick a movie, and I’ll get us a refill.” AJ grabbed my cup.
It was gone before I could protest. There was no need for being tapped off - I still had half a glass of wine. I didn’t object though.
My eyes wavered over the titles - Nightmare on Elm Street, Muppets Take Manhattan, Beverly Hills Cop, and, The Big Chill. AJ wasn’t kidding when he said there was some of everything.
I used my index finger to scour the titles. The eagerness of my touch stopped at a familiar movie. I’d actually gone to the theatre with a girl from school two years prior to see it - War Games.
AJ was by my side, handing me my deluged glass. He noticed my jolted eyes when I took the overfilled cup from him.
“You don’t have to drink it all at once.” He chuckled then eyed my movie choice.
“Are you in the mood for Matthew Broderick?” I lifted the cover to an upright position.
AJ shrugged his shoulders in causal interest, picked the movie from my fingers, and kneeled before the VCR to pop in the tape. I did an about-face to the couch and plopped down.
“Want some popcorn with the movie?”
“Sure.” I replied, having an instant craving for butter.
The beginning credits were filling the screen as AJ arrived with a Jiffy Pop aluminum container, overflowing with white popped cornels. He managed to turn off all the lights before making his way back to me.
Halfway into the film I started to feel a buzz coming on. My wine was nearing the bottom of the cup. The salty snack was making me thirsty. Slowing my intake, I placed the cup on the table. AJ followed suite.
When the scene where Matthew Broderick is in a phonebooth ripping-off a call with a Coke can pull-ring, I felt movement beside me on the couch.
From my peripheral site I could see him cuing closer to me. He wasn’t nonchalant or tacky about this scooching endeavor, so I accepted the gesture by resting my shoulder on his chest, leaning more comfortably into the cushion behind me.
After several minutes his arm flowed over the fine hair at the nape of my neck, making for my shoulders. He leaned forward slightly to face me. The palm of his hand lifted, coming to rest on my cheek. AJ’s eyes bore into mine, causing my stomach to shudder. There wasn’t time to decipher this gesture. His lips were already pressing on mine.
The slight inebriating effects of the wine encumbered with AJ’s meaningful lip-lock was both intoxicating and stimulating. Both of my hands floated to his tasseled hair, entwining within the locks. The blazon look he gave propelled an unknown force within me.
Gradually he brought my back to rest on the sofa cushions. His body pressed feverishly to mine. There was a distinct similarity between AJ’s cravings and my own. His hands found the base of my shirt and crawled underneath, reaching my bra. A nervous unfamiliarity of this new desire caused me to pull away slightly. The heat of his staggered breaths washed over me as his face stared an inch from mine. He waited for the reason for my resistance. Nothing came from my lips. I wanted him physically, but was anxious about having sex.
AJ slipped back over me with his luscious mouth. I couldn’t resist.
An impetuous palpitation consumed the essence between my legs. I could feel AJ’s bulge pressing against me. Surprisingly, that kneading excited me even further. Hoping that our stimulate rubbing would remain as a top-of-the-clothes exploration I made a conscious effort to keep my hands on the exterior of his shirt and jeans. He on the other hand had other destinations in mind.
His calculating arms wrapped my upper-body, continuing to press along the supple skin of my back. My mind flurried hazily, losing all sense of reason. It was nearly impossible to think rationally while AJ’s tongue wrestled mine to submission.
Massaging their way down to the inside of my jeans, AJ’s hands were grasping my backside, lifting and pressing my navel deeper against his jean-covered penis. His mouth was to my hyper sensitive neck, instigating a jolt of electric stimulation on the surface of my skin. The satyriasis of his probing hands was swerving to the front of my navel, resting on the zipper of my jeans.
His breathing intensified.
Searching for the flap of my zipper, AJ simultaneously worked his mouth to my décolleté. Zero sensibility took over my wits, forcing out my hormonal influx. I had to fight it.
“AJ, I can’t.” I stopped him from unbuttoning my pants. “You’re going too fast. I . . . I’m . . .”
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I was a virgin. I don’t know why. It wasn’t anything I was ashamed of. It was more the unknown that was the basis for my hesitation. And my awkwardness, brought on by my sexual handicap. I was sure AJ could see that I was virgin. He was, after all, present for my first kiss. The confident manner in which he took control of the foreplay made my sloppy attempts look pathetic. I feared humiliation.
“Yari,” AJ started. His brilliant eyes made me tremble. “I’m sorry - I thought this was what you wanted, too.”
AJ and I remained in our sandwiched position while we deliberated our next move.
“I don’t want to get pregnant.” I pulled myself together and sat up. We were inches apart. Getting knocked-up was, naturally, another fear of mine.
AJ faced me in an upright position.
“There are condoms in the medicine cabinet. And, this won’t be my first time.”
He paused to take in my reaction to this apparent loss-of-virginity fact. This established detail didn’t surprise me – I had my suspicions that AJ had sex with at least one girl. His moves were far too experienced for a virgin.
I said nothing.
He moved closer to me, gently. “I won’t hurt you.”
The sincere plea prompted me to fall victim to my earlier longing for him. How could he know how to make me feel the way he did?
“You’ve done it before?” I felt compelled to ask even though he already established this.
I used the question as a way to prompt further details. For some stupid reason I needed to know who my boyfriend had already screwed.
His face fell still. He nodded.
“How many times?” Pushing further, I instigated more details.
“A few times,” he said still stoic, still reticent.
This fuzzy answer made me even more prying.
Tension filled his face. I could tell he wanted a topic change, “Someone back in Vermont.” He left it there.
I was intrigued. Maybe he was lying, I asked myself with necessary caution. Maybe he never had sex, will put the rubber on wrong, and knock me up. This seemed unlikely though.
We sat in silence for a few moments. He was the first to offer up a derailment.
“I understand if you don’t want to.”
Reaching for the remote control, I stopped him. His dismayed face made me reconsider.
He looked puzzled.
“AJ, I like you a lot.” I paused there to catch my breath. His face showed no emotion. “If you want to do it with me, I really think you should tell me,” I paused considering my words, “who you’ve been with.”
There was a long, uncomfortable lull before he spoke. I could tell he was struggling to divulge this potentially incriminating information.
AJ’s voice carried a note of embarrassment. “When I was living in Vermont, my mom had to advertise for a roommate to help cover the rent and utilities. All that she could find was a nineteen year-old girl who was boy crazy.” AJ paused to scan my face for any impending judgment. I offered no frown or wrinkled brow, only curiosity.
“She got caught sneaking guys into her room. A few arguments broke out between her and my mother because of the unpermitted sleepovers. My mother threatened to throw her out if she didn’t stop. The girl did - but replaced her nighttime visitations with me.” His chin dropped, avoiding my indecisive eyes.
Being tall and fit I could see the possibility that older girls might develop an eye for AJ. He didn’t look his age.
“I was fifteen when she talked me into having sex with her.” AJ continued. ”Being a teen guy it didn’t take much to say yes. I’m no saint. I didn’t tell my mother about it the six months that it lasted. She did catch us eventually and kicked out the girl. Because of the loss of money we were forced to move to a place we could afford. My mother knows the guy who owns these apartments. They worked something out. That’s why we’re here.”
I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t horny teen guys dream that something like that would happen to them - having sex with an older more experienced girl? Why was he so restrained to tell me?
I diverted the conversation away from his past frolics with the nympho, and got back to the topic at hand. “So . . . why do you want to have sex with me?” Clearly I wasn’t going to be as hardened as the nineteen year-old jezebel, so why bother with me? I’d only make for a terrible lay.
The lines on his brow softened. “Because you’re my girlfriend, and,” a slight smile broke his dismayed face. “I really care about you. To get that close with you would be huge. I want to know what it’s like to be with another girl physically, when there are honest feelings involved.”
I believed him.
“If we do it, you have to promise me that we’ll be safe.”
Placing the TV clicker back on the tattered coffee-table AJ pulled himself to
my side. “I promise. I’ll be very careful. And if you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop.”
I nodded in agreement.
The pounding in my chest was deafening. I felt sick. What was I doing? This was insane. Was I being too hasty in my decision? Sure, sex looked great on television, but in real life so much could go wrong.
AJ shut off the movie and started toward his bedroom. I quickly slugged down the remainder of my wine, thinking it would take the edge off.
I passed one of the living-room windows. The snow blanketed the world outside. Apparently, the plows hadn’t passed Main Street yet. The vacant town-center was void of pedestrians and cars. It didn’t matter that I lived in Massachusetts my entire life - I still hated snow.
The reflective surface of the mounting white crust had absorbed the light from the setting sun, creating a dull, gray glow, humming through the windows of the apartment. There was no way I was getting home that night.
My calm, cool, and collected boyfriend was waiting in his bedroom for me. He was looking out a window. My hands were shaking. I could feel the wine trying to anesthetize every limb.
When the fluttering of my arms was beginning to fade, relief finally washed over me. Even though I had never had sex, I wanted to be an equally active and effective participant.
There was always that wish that my first time would be special. In a way, it was so far. My first was going to be with AJ. And really, there was no one else I could’ve imagined losing my virginity to.
Never had I bought into the whole sappy Hollywood dogma of candles flickering with hokey love songs crooning in the background as a guy and girl got it on. I just want it to feel great, and not get pregnant. That was good enough for my practical expectations. Of course, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am wasn’t going to fly either.
AJ went to the radio upon his bureau without making eye contact with me. He turned it on to the malleable sound of Robert Plant singing “Stairway to Heaven.”
It was perfect.
The comforting tenor of the singer from Led Zeppelin was the absolute ingredient necessary for me to flush away all of my anxieties. Who would’ve thought my first sex act would become synonymous with the bravado of Percy Plant?
AJ approached me as I stood near the baseboard of his bed. Taking my hand he continued to resist my stare, leading me to the mattress where we sat facing one another.
I swallowed hard, nervous, but eager for things to get started.
He offered a steady, unwavering gaze, holding firm to mine. Without a word, he leaned in for a kiss. Unlike the thousands that we previously mastered, this kiss had meaning.
The atmosphere was composed perfectly with the ethereal music, soft lighting, and the excitement of knowing that it would just be AJ and I for the entire evening.
As the drunken tempo of the rock song started to escalate, so did the intensity of our kissing. Gradually we reclined on his twin bed. The sheets smelled of baby powder.
All my fears were diminishing with every touch of our lips, every touch of his hands. The skill that he possessed wasn’t normal for a teen of sixteen years. That girl in Vermont must’ve been some tramp.
The frame of AJ’s body was almost weightless as he used his arms to avoid pressing down upon me. Soon his hands were exploring my body.
Letting go of my twisted senses, I offered myself to AJ. I allowed him to take control as the warmth of his breath fell upon my chest. Working his hands toward my back, he removed my bra first then my shirt.
AJ brought his mouth to my ear and nibbled the lobe. “I love your body.”
The incorporation of his velvety voice into my blissful state snapped me back to consciousness. Without realizing it, we were both in our underwear.
A shiver engulfed me when his head materialized at my pubic bone. The subtlety of his kisses down there was toxic.
AJ sat up on his knees and pulled off his boxer shorts. I blushed. It was the first time I’d ever seen a real penis. It excited me.
Sex seemed the most incredible thing in the world. I was addicted and we hadn’t even gone all the way yet.
Lying back, naked upon the sheets, I watched him put on the condom with little trouble. He directed his feverish eyes to me. I leaned forward slightly, pulling him on top of me. My hands clasped his waist with impatience.
Skin on skin, I waited.
Then it came. A shriek of pleasure parted my lips, again . . . and again.
The tantalizing sensation was maddening.
AJ kissed me. I kissed him back harder. Throughout our sexual exploration the eerie lyrics of “Hey You” from Pink Floyd, and the emotional “Free Bird” by Lynard Skynard echoed in the backdrop.
My body convulsed, begging for more of his irresistible touch, his lavish kisses, and the pulsing pleasure.
The comforting feeling of being desired, of being needed, was a human emotion that I was void of for so long. There were no limits to how far I would go to maintain the erotic sensation that brought me to where I was just then.
My legs embraced his midsection with an excited force. AJ responded by increasing his tempo as he lie along my torso. I wondered if he understood the physical felicity that his actions generated within me.
Pulling him against me, as my mouth met his ear, I moaned breathlessly, “You feel awesome.”
The sticky and breathy accolade brought him closer to me, intensifying the warm friction our bodies mounted. This escalated into both AJ and I climaxing.
Simultaneously, my mind and body broke into an aftershock. The residual consequence of us having sex would result in me wanting to do it all over again.
He lay on top of me, panting. I shot him a contented grin.
“How do you feel?” he asked through staggered breaths.
I chuckled, mystified at how stellar I felt.
AJ kissed my lips softly, and returned my smile with his perfect grin.
We spent the rest of the weekend at his place, having sex.