My Life-Changing First Time: A True Story of Love, Lust, and Airport Adventure

This is a true story.

Copyright 2014 by the author.


Introduction

This is the 100% true, (to the best of my recollection) story of the first time I had sex. I know the circumstances might seem hard to believe, but I assure you, it really happened this way. There's not a lot of sex in this story, but I still think you might enjoy it.


The True Story of My First Time


It was mid June 1984, and I had recently finished high school. I was 17 years old, and would be turning 18 that August. I had no plans to go to college, and no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I had worked a few jobs, mostly foodservice, but nothing that I could see myself doing as a career.

I had always been a big kid, and that summer, I stood 6' 4” tall, 230 lbs, and was still growing. I had a few close friends throughout high school, but I never had a girlfriend. Looking back, I think it was a combination of things; my shyness around girls, my imposing physical presence, and the fact that I just wasn't comfortable in my own skin. My mother assured me that I'd find a girl someday, she said that young girls were attracted to “non-threatening” boys, and that as I got older, women would be attracted to me. Turns out she was right, but that wasn't helping me get laid at that time.

I was very restless, wanting to go somewhere, do something, but I didn't know where to go or what to do.

My older brother was in the US Army, and at the time he was stationed at Fort Lewis, which is just outside of Tacoma, Washington. He was two years older than me, and we couldn't have been more different. Whereas I had always been painfully shy around strangers and girls, my brother was very gregarious and always had a girlfriend all throughout junior high and high school. He was married at the time to his high school sweetheart, and they lived in an apartment in Tacoma.

My brother suggested I come visit him, then he told me about a job working for a friend of his who was starting a small manufacturing business in Tacoma. I though it might be an interesting opportunity to get out of the midwest and try something different.

Looking back on it now, I realize I was trying to get away from myself, but no matter how far I traveled away from home, I was always right there with me. I was so shy I wanted to blend in with the background, but I was so physically large it was never possible. It's a difficult thing to stick out like a sore thumb when you're desperate not to be noticed.

I decided to fly out to Tacoma and try living with my brother and his wife for a while, so I bought a plane ticket. I had flown before, but it was always with family or a group of some kind, I had never flown by myself. My flight was from Kansas City to Sea-Tac, with a layover to change planes in Salt Lake City, Utah.

At the time, I was into punk rock music, bands like The Sex Pistols, The Dead Kennedys, Black Flag; and I dressed the part, favoring ragged blue jeans, t-shirts and military surplus coats. When I got on the plane that day, I distinctly remember I was wearing my favorite coat, a long, olive green trenchcoat.

I was also a heavy smoker, both cigarettes and weed, and I had nearly an ounce of weed in my carry-on bag. Thank God this was pre-911, and airport security was pretty lax. Somehow I made it through security and onto my plane. It was a crowded flight, and it took a while to get to my seat in the back. The plane was a smaller jet, with just two rows of double seats all the way down. I had an aisle seat on the right side of the plane, and when I got to my row, both seats were empty. I hoped I'd have both seats to myself, because as you can imagine, airline seats aren't very comfortable for someone my size. Not just because of my height, but my shoulders are wider than an average coach seat.

Just as the last passengers were boarding, I looked up and saw a woman standing next to me. She said she had the window seat, so I stood up to let her get by me. I sat back down and we both put our seatbelts on and waited. I could smell alcohol on her breath when she spoke to me, and she seemed nervous, more nervous than I was even. She was nervous because she didn't like flying, and I was nervous because a woman was talking to me.

She looked like she was in her mid 30's, she was probably 5' 5” tall, had an average build, shoulder length dirty blonde hair, and wore a lot of make up. She wasn't stunningly beautiful, but she looked good, and was very friendly. Somehow, we seemed to put each other at ease. I told her not to be scared about flying, and just as the plane accelerated down the runway, she took my hand and squeezed as hard as she could.

I didn't know what to think, there I was, a socially awkward teenager, and a good looking older woman I'd just met was holding my hand. After we were in the air, and the landing gear was up, she let go of my hand, but she kept talking, and she occasionally touched my arm. She told me she lived in Nome, Alaska, and she was changing planes in Salt Lake City too, but her plane from there was headed to Anchorage.

The stewardess came by with the drink cart, and we both got drinks. I had a Coke, and she had a cocktail of some sort. She pounded her drink pretty fast, and got another one when the stewardess went back the other way.

I honestly don't remember what we were talking about, and what, if anything led up to this, but in the middle of her second drink, she leaned over and kissed me. On the mouth. I had only French kissed one girl in my life, a girl I'd met during a summer trip to the Lake of the Ozarks, and I'd only kissed that girl briefly one time.

Needless to say, I was shocked, and suddenly very horny. We kissed for a while, and then we talked some more. I have no memory of what she said, but I do remember when she reached over to grab my cock through my blue jeans. I remember not only because it was the first time a woman ever touched me there, but she was sitting to my right, and my erection was stuffed down the left leg of my jeans, so when her hand landed on the inside of my right thigh, she gave me this look like, 'where is it?'. I pulled her hand across to the inside of my left thigh and she squeezed my cock. She smiled at me as she squeezed, and I got the feeling she liked what she felt. I'm not much longer than average down there, but like the rest of me, my cock is fairly thick.

I have no idea how I didn't cum in my pants right then and there, but I didn't. We kissed some more and somehow I worked up enough courage to touch her breast over her shirt. She didn't stop me and for the first time, I had a boob in my hand.

I didn't want to stop, but just as things were getting pretty heavy, the pilot came on the intercom to tell us we were approaching Salt Lake City, and to put our seatbelts on.

The plane landed, and we were the last ones off. We walked together through the terminal, and luckily we both had plenty of time to catch our next flight.

I don't remember if she did it, or if I did it, but there was a door that said, “Stairs. Authorized Personnel Only”, and one of us pushed it open. Like most modern airports, the terminal was on the second floor, at the level of the airplanes, and the ground floor of the terminal was at the level of the tarmac. I didn't know it, but at this airport, there were a few stairways that led from the inside of the terminal down to the tarmac outside. We went down the steps to the ground level and there was nothing there except a door leading out to the tarmac. There was a window on the door and I saw a bagage cart drive by.

I was very nervous, and very excited, being in a restricted area at an airport with a woman I'd only met an hour before, and I knew we were going to do something. I didn't know if she wanted to have sex, or just make out somewhere private, but I was ready for whatever.

We started making out, and our hands were all over each other. She started unbuckling my belt, so I unbuttoned her jeans. The reason I remember so clearly that I was wearing my long green army surplus trenchcoat, was that I took it off and laid it out on the tile floor under the stairs we had just come down.

Before I knew what was happening, she was on her back on my trenchcoat with her jeans completely off one leg, and pushed down to her ankle on the other. She wasn't wearing any panties and I got my first ever look at a real live pussy. I remember being surprised by the smell. It wasn't 'fishy' smelling like all the guys in school had always joked, but it was a pungent aroma. I was on my knees between her open legs, and as much as I wanted to stick my cock in her, I wanted to taste her pussy, just out of curiosity. I leaned down and gave her a few licks, deciding I liked the taste. After that, I touched her pussy with my fingers, marveling at how soft and warm and wet and totally freaking awesome it felt.

I moved up and supported my upper body over hers with my arms. I poked at her, missing the target, so she reached down to guide me in, and there I was. Inside a woman for the first time in my life, and it felt fantastic, just like I had always imagined it would. Fortunately this was before the big AIDS scare, so there was no condom involved. I'm glad, because years later, when I did have sex while wearing a condom, I hated it.

I'd like to tell you that I fucked her long and hard and deep, making her cry out in ecstasy, but unfortunately, that didn't happen. I lasted maybe a minute before I came inside her, then I pulled out quickly and dumped more cum on her light brown pubic hair. As soon as I was done ejaculating, I stood up and put my wet cock back in my jeans and buttoned up. Instead of basking in the afterglow of my first sexual experience, I was suddenly very nervous about getting caught by airport security, or anyone else for that matter.

She wiped herself off with a napkin she had in her purse, and pulled her jeans up. I don't remember if we said anything to each other as we got dressed and went back up the stairs. After we went back through the door to the terminal, we parted and went to catch our planes. I don't recall if we even said goodbye.

On the flight to Sea-Tac, I do remember being in a state of stunned disbelief. I kept sniffing my fingers and wondering if that had really just happened. I knew it had actually happened, because my fingers smelled like pussy. The more I thought about it, the more absurd it seemed, and I was grinning from ear to ear when I got off the plane. My brother and his wife must have thought I was happy to see them, they didn't ask why I was smiling, and I didn't tell them.

So that's how I lost my virginity. On the floor in a restricted area at the Salt Lake City airport, with a woman I had just met, and never saw again. I don't even remember her name.

Looking back on it, nearly thirty years later, I'm still amazed. Amazed that it happened, and amazed we didn't get caught. If we had been caught, and they searched my bag and found the weed, I'd probably still be sitting in a jail somewhere in Utah. My first sexual experience was my most dangerous, in retrospect.


Author's note:

Maybe someday I'll tell you about the time I fucked a midget. Seriously.