by Lore Sjöberg

The First Honest Sex Story
by Phil Detrius, phild@students.ucsp.edu

The following story actually happened to nobody I know. It's completely made up by me, based on a general idea of how sex works based on my somewhat limited personal experience.

I first met Clarice in a bar. The sort of bar where people who have sex with each other meet each other to have sex. We've all been there, except me and most of my friends. But my other two friends assure me they exist.

I saw her from across the room. She smiled at me, the sort of smile that says "Come on over and show me what you got." I deduced that from the simple fact that nobody had ever smiled at me that way before, so I figured it either meant that or "What an attractive haircut you have."

Well, of course I went over there and told her a bunch of stuff that makes women melt and give themselves over to you completely. I'm not sure what. It probably doesn't involve discussing UPN or "Resident Evil II," but beyond that your guess is as good as mine.

So we went over to her place and she had her bedroom done up real nice, with a really sexy lack of candy bar wrappers and old CD-ROMs on the floor. It also didn't smell at all like the sheets hadn't been washed in three months. She undressed slowly, removing her shirt and then reaching behind her to unfasten her bra. Or would that be in front of her? Wasn't there a movie where that one lady unfastens her bra in the front? I'm pretty sure it's the back, though. Her body was more attractive than most, with bosoms right up there in the alphabet department.

Then she put her hand down there and did whatever women do, I don't know myself. Some sort of rubbing thing, I guess. Anyhow, she really enjoyed it and demonstrated so by making the correct noises. And I got turned on. Real turned on. I know what that involves with me, but let's play it safe and say that whatever happens to you when you get turned on happened to me. Unless you're a girl, in case whatever you'd like to happen is what happened.

So after that we had sex. Good sex. The best. It lasted for an exceptionally long number of minutes. I touched her in all the ways a woman likes to be touched and none of the ways that makes her laugh at you in that really awful dismissive way and get dressed. She touched me in the way you'd expect me to like to be touched, assuming I'm a perfectly normal man with no really strange desires, fantasies or allergies.

And that's how it happened. I'll never be the same inexperienced insecure guy I was before.