For Teenagers’ Confessions: “The first night of sex, the last night of love”, I decided to gather some less than innocent people, but with empathy in their soul, and let them tell us some sneak peeks of their experiences. Below you will pass through a mixture of feelings, I say, more or less intense. It depends on how much you resonate with them. Enjoy!
The first night of sex?
More like the first night when I found out what disappointment means. I am not going to tell my detailed personal experience about the sex itself, because I’m sure you would be more interested in some advice.
Regarding my first night… What is there to say? It was a failure, guys.
Dude, I swear guys have the impression that if you touch a girl’s hand it’s on and you’re good to go further. NO! You must be ready in all the aspects. Unlike others, I am proud that I educated myself in terms of sex. If you want more info and tips about sex education, check this article: here!
So, I say to you, take care of yourself!
Protect yourself and not only the first time! Let’s not gather more regrets than we already have. And as I said, you should plan to start your sex life with someone you really love and with whom you feel comfortable. Nobody mentions this but I aim this advice at boys because they as well can sustain serious trauma after the first night of sex and possibly the last night of love. As for me, I confess to you that I was not very inspired in choosing my first partner, but well… shit happens.
I never imagined that the first experience can be so lame, but I frankly say that I’m waiting for future physical connections.
F*ck this shit, you’re young, LIVE GUYS, ASK THAT OUT BOY, TELL YOU’D F*CK THE SHIT OUT OF HER. Nothing bad can happen (as long as it’s not the first time, hehe) Live, experience, now is our time and it will never go back!
You know, in a world of ephemeral things, my naive soul seemed to have broken the pattern when I found you. It seemed like the touching of our bodies could stop time and I would have never left for anything in the world. You promised me that neither would you. And I naively trusted you. The times when you counted the beats of my heart, keeping your head on my chest, and you knew too that I believed you. Everything was ours.
We could have had anything, but we only wanted each other. Naive, that’s how my thinking was. And when the ceiling seemed to be too low and too narrow, I felt I needed more room, more room to love you. The Desk, table, bed, and floor were too little. We need space. We thought we had time. I thought I had…
When I grabbed your hips and olive hair, along with your kisses that covered my face, I had a sunrise in my soul, sweat was passion and I had it all. We were both in the moments. Your hips could have covered me in the nicest dances and my hands would have listened to them forever.
Each mole on your body was a star and I felt like I wouldn’t have enough of discovering you, that I would lose myself in your skin day by day, for all my life. For that to be my Universe, our Universe.
The pressing your lips on my abdomen took me to a special place, and inside me, I wasn’t touching the Earth anymore. You were telling me by way of sight things that I did not know, but I wanted to hear. I was eager for knowledge, a pervert blue that was hiding an ocean of desire, it seemed like you had told me everything. Your touches wounded me and healed me at the same time but I wouldn’t have given any of that back. When you whispered in my ear nice words filled with moans, you owned all of me, and you probably knew that, but not the naive me. You know, naive like I was, I was thinking that we share the same mind, but you left. What was enough for you, was everything to me. And it meant too little to you.
A dark room, shadowy, full of emotions and hot breaths.
That was where I discovered her whole image. She represented a whole to me I couldn’t turn my gaze away from the center of her body, not even for a second. I was staring at her hair as well as her frail and graceful shapes and wanted her to be mine with all my soul and heart. I was hardly noticing her arms on my body because I was permanently distracted by her gaze. In the night, I saw stars and constellations in her dark brown, clear yes.
Pressed touches dominated, leaving marks on our skin, the heat from our bodies and the scratches would mix, creating a supernova. We were to explode together, offering our surroundings only butterflies and vibrant colors that would blind anyone looking at us.
The air inside the room becomes a sauna, and she becomes an angel while on her chest thousands of flowers and leaves bloom. They then take off and fly around us, covering our bodies. Our wounds heal after every kiss. Desire, ecstasy, adrenaline, they all embrace us while offering what we desired from one another. The infusion of colors, wind, flowers, and her wings offer a sight able to cure the mind and soul. A pause, a pause and then she rests her head on my chest, grabs ahold of my skin using her nails, and exudes a torrid summer.
When I close my eyes, I still see you there.
I stare at you as you lean towards my confused and sweaty face to kiss my cheek and grab hold of my hand that was strangling the bedsheets. Low light outlined your back that was creating waves in my pupils. It was you, it was me, it was us.
Our jerky breaths and desperate sounds covered the profound silence of the room. My makeup was black, and it had flowed across my happy figure. There were your big lips meeting my own. There was harmony and eroticism, it was everything we had wanted. But when I open my eyes, they rotate 180 degrees.
In front of me lies just a pillow filled with tears and the black of my make up turned into dark circles on my face. You’re not here anymore, but I still am. “Us” no longer exists. Harmony disappeared at the same time as your perfume that left my body. Your presence had touched my body.
The room’s darkness was weaving its subtle tension around my eardrums. For the first time, the atmosphere felt heavy. I wasn’t anxious, I was fearful – like the butterflies in the stomach gnawed their way out. Your touch seemed dry, it was cold – your breath wasn’t warming my skin any longer. Your eyes, a fantastic brown, seemed to have lost their shine. I felt you physically beside me, but my soul wasn’t finding the hand that it had used to cling to before.
I kissed you mechanically, but your tongue did not taste like lavender anymore, and I didn’t feel like a human.
With your body pressed against mine, I felt like I was only a spine – I was like a remedy that you could use after a monotonous day. Or a kind of pill that you take when you have a headache. Our movements were automatic. We lacked passion – we were like two robots. I felt like I was a reminder of what we were, and our hearts were out of sync. Only then I began to feel that love was just about done. And in our naivety, we thought that sex could heal our wounds.
My body trembled while looking at your eyes that were full of desire. I did not want you to touch me, I did not want to feel you anymore, your face let off pure repulsion. I did not love you anymore, I hadn’t been yours since long before. But neither my tears or my pleases had stopped you from destroying my last bit of innocence. Your kisses were not passionate, but hard and savage like. You had no control over you anymore, and I was not able to reject you.
The bed witnessed so many nights of love, became cold when my back glued to the cold sheets.
You dominated me in every way, I could not move my arms, I was a prisoner. I cried, I begged you to stop, but your slap silenced me. Crying uncontrollably, while you were satisfying your carnal pleasures. For the last time, you’d demonstrated why I never wanted you any longer. You looked me in the eye, wiped off my tears and whispered to me that you loved me. That wasn’t love, it was the moment when you destroyed not only my body but my soul as well.
Every time I breathe the air of the places we’d been to, I feel you.
The cafe where we used to go feels so empty without you there. Coffee does not taste like desire, and sugar does not sweeten me. On the street on which we used to walk together, the chaotic wind’s blowing, trying to grab hold of the hand to you once held.
The bed where we dared to let caged feelings loose, where we slowly undressed, soaking you in hot kisses and touches. You gave me your body as a gift, and I didn’t refrain from making the same gesture.
The chaotical walk of fingers over the discovered shape map excited me.
The climax of the evening was raising the temperature to another level of commitment, where sheets were guarding our privacy and desire to live the moment. Each touch of the skin brought a desire to be there one for the other, to merge, forming one body, one soul, covering up holes and tearing down barriers.
It was a paradise limited by the light rays that pierced through our stuck eyelids. I opened my eyes and you were there in my arms. I gently kissed one shoulder, then the neck, looking for the lips that were waiting in silence. You climbed over me and the game started at the dawn of the night, ending rapidly.
The fire was extinguished when mine was lit. The day of the beginning was both an end and an abyss. Words had no effect and thoughts like “I was used” started growing deep roots.
Now, I still hope that all places that are sealed with the symbol of our love get broken and I will forget how you left. You left living making the last night of love an eternal memory.
My confession is slightly different.
I had no adventures and I will never have, besides traveling to various places. I had no “fails” or anything that affected me or my partner. But I still remember the first time. I know it was about 3 or 4 in the morning and we were sleepy as heck. I do not know what we had done up to that point, but it’s clear what followed. It happened after a few weeks of a relationship.
It was what I would call love, not sex.
Not sex, and not lust either, but something sensual, a strange feeling, a special bond. But that was probably the last time I would ever feel that. Maybe love only lasts one night. Or maybe it was the feeling masked by a new experience. Orgasm doesn’t define the love between two people.
Finally, I hope our confessions satisfied your minds and that you appreciate our mates’ effort to unleash their thoughts in writing.