“The First Encounter of the Pussycat and Weiner Dog”

They say everyone remembers their first time, and I would have to agree with that, but not because it was magical and/or made the Earth stand still like in the movies, but rather because it was the most awkwardly enjoyable moment of our lives.  

By “first time”, I am mean the first time your woo hoo dilly went into another person’s orifice, or if you’re a chick (or a gay male) the first time your orifice went over and around another person’s woo hoo dilly…the poppage of one’s cherry if you would.

I know some men who are reading this, who suffer from that macho jock locker room crap, won’t admit to being clueless their first time. They will claim they hit it like a caveman while they moved like Jagger, but I can assure you that their partners would recollect things a whole lot differently.

Now me, I’m not ashamed to admit it, I didn’t know what I was doing then and honestly still not really sure what I’m doing now. I would have loved to have a copy of, “Doing it for Dummies” available for my first time, it would have made things so much easier, and a whole lot less embarrassing.

I was as lost as Dan Quayle trying to spell potato, I thought back to all the pornos I watched and tried to emulate the pros, but the woman I was with didn’t really like it when I started barking orders at her and calling her a female dog.

She gave me this look like as if she was Linda Blair in the Exorcist and I was the priest, and as a result of this I quickly backpedaled and started groveling like any man who was in my position would…and for the record, that position was me standing there buck-naked, feeling light headed because every ounce of blood in my body was in my Woody Woodpecker.

I was like a hotrod with no wheels; I was all revved up and had nowhere to go, so I did what had to be done. Thankfully though, the woman I was with knew that I was a noob, and gave me a second chance to make things right.

After feeling like it was safe to go back into the water I moved in for the kill, my harpoon (well actually it is more like a dart, but who’s keeping score) aimed at the target and ready to strike. Unfortunately though I missed my intended target and hit the hole next door.

The woman I was with flew straight up in the air, clutching her cheeks firmly, kind of like a cartoon character who just sat in the fire…needless to say it wasn’t a good way to restart things. When she finally came down she scolded me, told me to watch where I was sticking things and to be more careful…I had flashbacks of when I was a kid getting into trouble.

I was now two strikes down, one more and I would be ending the evening banging my own drum, so this time before moving in I said a quick prayer, ate my vitamins, and moved slowly towards her like as if I was a crook trying to sneak through a house at night.

I was now in position and ready to make my move, I was overly cautious because I didn’t want to mess up again. I went for the bullseye yet again, and thankfully hit dead center, so now I had to figure out what to do next.

I started thrusting back and forth, alternating speeds because I wasn’t really sure which way to go, fast or slow…how is one supposed to know these things. I didn’t know whether to hit it like a jackhammer, or nice and slow like molasses on a cold day, no one ever told me.

I kept looking at her face, trying to decipher if she liked what was happening or if she would have rather been somewhere else altogether, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of things because she had this look at her face like she just smelled a really nasty fart…I had no idea if that was good or bad.

Now after about an hour and a half (really it was three minutes) I was ready to “unpack my bags”, but I wasn’t really sure if I was to leave them at the door and wait for the manager to tell me to bring them in, or if I was just to feel free to go in and “unpack”.

I was so confused and scared that I just grabbed my junk and hopped off the bed and ran out of the room crying, but considering that I forgot to pay her she chased after me and kicked my ass and stole my wallet.   

I spent more time trying to figure out if I was doing it right and if she was being satisfied, more than I enjoyed it myself; it went from being a pleasurable experience to feeling as if I was taking a timed test.

Since that day I swore off sex completely, it was more trouble than it was worth. I am now a born again virgin and permanently riding the celibate bus. I now stick to safe sex, which is giving myself a hand job while watching the top performers in the adult entertainment world go at it like rabbits.

MJM