Continuing this month's theme of First Times, Fuck.com's resident writer, Abi Brown shares her first PIV experience while under a Purity Pledge. Find out if it was a divine experience, and if Abi contributed to the death of the Pope during the process (possibly...)


When I was thirteen years old, I somehow conspired to have a full-on Damascene-style conversion experience at an evangelical Christian youth festival called Soul Survivor in Somerset, England. Not long after, at a different event led by a similar group, I found myself taking 'The Pledge':

 

“Believing that true love waits, I make a commitment to God, myself, my family, my friends, my dates and my future mate that I shall remain sexually pure until the day I enter a covenant marriage relationship.”
 

For a while, I enjoyed having made this promise as it managed not to stop me doing any of the things I wanted to do, like, making out with unsuitable people, experimenting with drugs and embracing a goth throwback look. Becoming an evangelical Christian (apart from pissing off my mother), meant I could be pious about abstaining from something I had no real opportunity to do - getting laid. 

Group of people in a circle holding hands.  Fuck.com

When I was fifteen, I started dating a man eleven years my senior.  At that age, I came across as being older than I was and he too, which meant that people assumed we were both in our early twenties - which suited me just fine. He wasn’t a 'True Love Type', but he had dated other women who were.

Five months in, we’d reached that inevitable stage in Purity Pledge relationships known as “everything but”. By this point, I’d given my first blowjob and my first handjob and eagerly received in kind. I’d done my first round of intentionally buying sexy underwear and silky negligees. I’d acquired a pot of honey-flavoured body glitter and plastered myself with it on numerous occasions. We were mostly engaged to be married and everything. It was a pretty intense five months.

One night, we were messing around watching TV in his untidy little bedsit above a pub in London, and things got a little distracted. Neither of us was wearing very much, and suddenly he’s on top of me on the bed, smiling down. “You know”, he says, “sometimes I just want to reach over to that bedside table, get out a condom...” 

He’s joking, actually: it’s something he’s saying because he knows I find it hot and flattering to be reminded that he wants to have sex with me. My self-imposed boundaries have never been an issue in our relationship, and this moment is no different. Except for the fact that it is, of course.

“Go on, then”, I say, smirking up at him. I’m trying to look cool and definite, though my heart is pounding fit to burst.

He pauses. I can tell he’s not sure how serious I’m being. “Really?” he asks. I nod, “Really.” “You’re sure?” he says.

“I’m sure.” My mouth is a little dry, but I’ve never been surer of anything in all my life.

“You know we can’t, like... undo it later?” I laugh and roll my eyes. “I’m ready”, I say. “Do it.”  He reaches over to his bedside table and gets out a condom.

Moments later, I’m squeezing my eyes tight shut and holding onto him for dear life. The sensation as he slid inside me was a peculiar one; neither as painful nor as pleasurable as I had been led to believe. 

All of a sudden, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do: do I move, buck my hips? Should I make noise? Where am I supposed to be looking? Am I getting this right? Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can tell, dimly, that on future occasions I will enjoy this activity very much - but this is My First Time, and I’m too nervous to concentrate on anything. 

After a few long seconds I realise he’s about to cum, and while I know that’s unusually fast I’m honestly relieved; the first time is done now, and we can move on to subsequent occasions with more experience and less pressure. He arches his back, lets out a cry, pushes deeper into me. He’s not yet at the end of his crescendo when a voice from the TV breaks into our consciousnesses:

“We apologise for interrupting your regularly scheduled broadcast, but we have some breaking news. Pope John Paul II has just been confirmed dead in the Vatican...”

I catch his eye as he completes his climax. He collapses down onto the bed beside me, and together we laugh until our stomachs ache and there are tears in our eyes.


Piece of paper with 'I saw that - God' written on it.  Fuck.com

 


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