Pure and simple

I lost my virginity at 15 to the most submissive man I have ever met. It was during the pre-college art program at SVA. He and I had had this tension between us for about a week. He was the first man I had ever found truly attractive, with long dark hair, and dark mysterious eyes. I still wonder about him sometimes, wonder if he found what he was looking for in life. I barely knew him, but it was easy to fool around with him because I knew that my heart wouldn't be broken when he left.

We were staying the college dorms SVA used during the school year (it was summertime). The rooms were little more than shoe boxes, some rooms had bath tubs, others didn't. The building had once been a grand hotel in the 1920s, then it was a whore house in the 50s and 60s, and then SVA finally bought it to use as its dorms in the 1970s.

We laid on his bed in his shoe box of a room; I held him to my chest. It was raining lightly outside, and I mentioned something about having sex while it was raining. He quietly got up, got a condom, and turned out the lights, we went down on each other for a few minutes and then he rolled on the rubber and slid up inside me. I thought it would hurt, but oddly, it didn't. I remember laughing as I rode him in the darkened room while the rain fell outside. Neither of us came. I didn't experience the pain that many women feel in their first time, there was no blood. The simplicity of it made it easier for me to sleep alone that night.

Afterwards we lay in his bed for a long time holding each other and talking for what seemed like hours. Eventually friends of ours came and knocked on the door, collecting us for dinner.