First Sexual Act

Trigger warning: if you are a victim of (child) abuse, you might not want to read this.

 

What was the first overtly sexual act you performed on someone else or had performed on you? How did you feel about it afterwards?

 

Many of my ‘firsts’ were things that happened to me, that were performed on me. From the moment I became sexually active when I was still fifteen and not quite sixteen, it took years of me to be an active partner in sex. You know, I cannot even remember who’s cock I sucked first!

But, there’s one first I remember very clearly…

I stood in front of him, still clothed, but he told me to show myself to him. He wasn’t interested in the top half of me. That was something I knew very well. I knew he wanted to see my pussy. Slowly I dropped my pants and pulled my top up, exposing myself. I watched him as he watched me. His mouth was half open from excitement. His breathing was ragged. He shifted a bit where he sat on the side of the bed. In a soft voice he told me to spread my lips for him. I hook my top under my chin and with both hands I spread my labia. My soft inner pink excited him more. He licked his lips. He might have wanted to lick me, but it was not the place nor the time for it.

His hand disappeared into the pocket of his pants. I stood still, my fingers still spreading my pussy lips, and watched him. He pulled out a box of matches, opened it and handed me a match.
“Put it between your lips so they stay open,” he said.
I bent forward a bit, concentrating that my top didn’t slip out from between my chin and my chest and concentrating to put the match between my labia. The match was almost too long, but I finally managed to put it in place. My hands grabbed my shirt again, holding it in front of me while the match held my pussy lips open. It hurt a bit, but I didn’t mind, just like I didn’t mind him ordering me to do it. I had a strange feeling in my tummy, in my loins. An unfamiliar feeling that would soon become all too familiar.

“Pull up your pants,” he said and the moment my hand goes to the match to remove it: “no, leave it.”
I bent down to pull my pants up. The match hurt me, but I didn’t show it. I straightened my clothes again.
“Come here,” he said.
I walked the four steps towards him. He picked me up and put me on his lap. I kept my legs spread a bit, to ease the pain of the match between my pussy lips. The pleasant feeling in my tummy was stronger and had spread towards my pussy and my thighs. His hand brushed against my crotch. The match stayed in place. He stood up and in the same movement, he picked me up, turned around and put me in my bed. He pulled the covers up to my chin and bent forward to kiss my forehead.
“Keep the match in place until tomorrow morning.”

I watched him as he walked from my bedroom, switched off the light and walked into the brightly lit hallway. When I woke the next morning the match was in my underpants. In the days following this experience, I frequently played with the match, keeping it in for as long as possible even though it hurt. It excited me in a way I would only understand about thirty years later.

Back then, I was nine.

20160209-001wm my pussy
A pixelized version of my crotch, with my hand symbolically covering my pussy, My pussy is MINE and whatever happens to it, happens because I want it and not because it’s forced on me in any way, whether forcefully or ‘talking me into it’.
Just for the record: I am not traumatized by the child abuse, but I recognize what happened back then, should never have happened!
(click to enlarge)

 

© Rebel’s Notes

Click the button to see who else is sharing thoughts…

Food for Thought Friday

Linked for Molly’s #febphotofest:

febphotofest2016

8 thoughts on “First Sexual Act

  1. I love how honest you are, appreciate the bravery and matter of fact way you approached this. As a young child abused, this was challenging to read, but still so very helpful in dealing with my own issues associated to the abuse.

    So thank you

  2. Dear Marie, I’ve been thinking of this post since I first read it the other night. I didn’t comment immediately because I was speechless. Today, returning to express support, I’ve just read this conversation between you & Rose Bliss. I echo her sentiments regarding the positivity in this community. Thank you both for sharing about your experiences. People like you will make this world a better place. xxM

  3. Rose Bliss says:

    I can so relate to this, and I’m glad I read it, knowing that I’m not alone. I was also nine and he was a 15 year old male babysitter. I wanted to stay up later to watch a movie. He said I could if would do something for him. I had no idea what that might be, but I nodded excitedly.

    I even remember what I was wearing… pink pedal pushers and a white lace ruffled crop top… the top pulled off of your shoulders.. these were all the rage in 1960.

    He told me pull down my pants and panties to my knees. He used his finger to stroke along my labia and cautiously slipped one finger inside. And then he pulled down his pants and asked me to lick his penis. He had an erection.

    That was it, but it was enough and it traumatized me more than I realized. This wasn’t the first and last time I would be sexually abused. The first time was when I was three by a family friend. When I was 14 I was repeatedly raped by a boyfriend, became pregnant and miscarriaged, all without anyone finding out. I was raped again when I was 19 by a neighbor. I was beginning to think I had “victim” tattooed on my forehead.

    I never told anyone about any of this.. I kept the secret for 50 years until 6 years ago when chemotherapy triggered all of the memories in detail and I had a nervous breakdown. Finally after lots of therapy, I now see none of this was my fault and I’m finally able to enjoy sex for the first time in my life. I’m now 65. What a fucking waste to lose all that time and not be able to enjoy my sex life all this time.

    • Marie Rebelle says:

      I am so sorry that you had to go through this and also the breakdown. You are definitely not alone. I am thankful that I never had a trauma because of this, but there are times when I wonder how different my life might have been if that never happened. Still, I don’t feel traumatized at all. Happy that you can at least enjoy sex now! Thanks for sharing your experiences xox

      • Rose Bliss says:

        I’m glad you never had the trauma. It’s crippling. I look back and wish I had the courage I have now, then… but I was so afraid of everything and this just made those fears worse.

        If I had been encouraged to tell someone. But in those days we were only cautioned to look out for the dirty old man (which was actually my grandfather… all the girls in the family learned to stay arms lengths away from him), but never warned about boyfriends. The term date rape didn’t exist then.

        Yes, better late than never. I know some survivors never to get to that point.

        I would like to see better sex education for everyone… children and adults. There have been some improvements over the years, but only slightly. There is still too much guilt and fear and shame about sex.

        That’s why your blog and others like it are so important, so valuable. You are starting to open people’s eyes.

        In the two years I’ve been in the kink community, reading, learning and experiencing.. I’ve found for the most part more acceptance, encouragement and positive attitudes that I’ve never seen in the vanilla world.

        Until I started learning about D/s and BDSM I never heard the words “consent”, “communicate”, “respect” in regards to sexuality.

        Please keep writing and sharing. I don’t think you have any idea what a difference your posts are making.

        • Marie Rebelle says:

          Thank you for your lovely comment. I am nowhere near the point that I want to stop writing, and I am thankful that I can help some people out there.

Comments are closed.