looking to fuck me -19M
youcan call me Steve my freinds call me huricane or huricane Steve. 19 years old I want someone to help me loose my virginity this weekend. Mostly if I could stick it in your pussy for a minute, we dont actually have to have sex. You can get me hard by giving me a blowjob because i had blowjobs before two times/
not intrested in bad smelling pussy or big girls. Also must be shaved yourself down there or dont have much hair at all is ok. dont be in your period either. no unshaved. Mostly I tired of my friends making fun of me, so you could help me. I dont have no experiense with girls so I dont know if you want me to try but you wuold have to tell me what to do. respond by wendsday so we do this when I trun 20 (before20>
if your overwaite women or hairy womendont call, and please be smelling nice. Don not drink or smoke. no drugs.white or asain woman only.
Steve XXX-XXX-XXXX
Today WWHM would like to issue an urgent warning regarding Hurricane Steve, a 19 year-old male virgin whose sudden and unfortunate approach may encourage women to nail an assortment of plywood boards to their vaginas. Hurricanes typically disperse copious amounts of moisture, but this particularly impotent storm promises to leave your panties drier than the sun parched asslips of a dehydrated sand snake slithering through a field of Sham-Wows.
Hurricane Steve posted a personal ad in hopes of losing his virginity, utilizing a series of detailed vaginal specifications for the upcoming christening of his penis. Personally, I didn't know I had that option when I was a virgin. To me, pussy was like prison food; you take what's given to you, or you don't fucking eat.
Yet Steve somehow intends to acquire a vagina in the same manner one might order a new Ford Taurus or a late-night pizza. Checking off his list of preferred genital toppings, Steve apparently thinks a man on a moped will deliver an insulated oven bag stuffed with a piping hot vagina in 30 minutes or less. You're a virgin Steve, so don't pretend like you're some type of connoisseur of the fairer sex; you wouldn't know a pussy if it was wearing a clown nose, eating a corn dog, and pockmarking dents in the hood of your car on a pogo stick.
Statistics reveal that our kids now lose their virginity at an average age of less than 15 years. I lost my virginity at 16, a relatively late bloomer amongst my own peers in the late 1980's. Boys now generally lose their virginity at age 14, and girls trail boys just a bit at 15. So I wasn't surprised when I recently asked my friend's 13 year-old daughter what she fed her rabbit, and she responded "2 D batteries," followed quickly by "Oh, I ... mean.....lettuce."
Though I lost my virginity at age 16, my first sexual thoughts smokily emanated upwards from my briefs at age 12. I had developed a crush on a little girl up the street named Amy who always wore short little cotton dresses to class, and I'd sit across from her all day gawking hungrily at her tanned and tiny legs. While you'd think my first sexual fantasy would entail holding her hand or perhaps peeking at her breasts, inexplicably I was obsessed with an insane desire to lick her legs. Specifically her thighs, right above her kneecaps. I couldn't stop thinking about it. It drove me nuts.
I didn't know it was sexual at the time, and I certainly couldn't understand my strange and raging desire to run my tongue over the thigh of a girl who didn't even know I existed. I remember fearing I was turning into one of those "cannibals" I had read about in my pirate magazines, and certainly by the end of the week you would catch me somewhere in a forest snacking on the brains of unfortunate passersby after tricking them into a boiling cauldron of carrots I had prepared.
Eventually I connected my crazy thoughts about Amy with the sudden and raging disco party occurring daily in my pants. My balls dropped like a cruise ship anchor, and my constantly hard penis resembled the tiny arm of a meerkat reaching for a bowl of unripe pears. I discovered I could somewhat relieve the pressure by smashing it against a support pole on my school desk, or imagining my grandmother stirring a bowl of runny eggs. Four years later, I would unfortunately discover that I could also lose my erection while attempting to have sex.
Teenage male virgins face enormous social pressure to have sex. It was easy for most; the dashing young boys with cool shirts, the guys on the football team, and the rocker guys that hung out behind the school were all fucking girls and getting blowjobs during lunch. I, on the other hand, ate granola bars during lunch and still got hard at even the thought of a well-crafted pillow. Having just moved to the big city from a remote farm, I had no style, no athleticism, no body, and I constantly reeked of something that might leak out of a goat.
So I did what every male teen virgin did.
I lied.
I concocted a ridiculous story that I was having regular and mind-blowing sex with a girl from ..... wait for it .... Canada. The kids at my school actually developed new and specialized ocular muscles just to enable them to roll their eyes further back into their skulls when I excitedly told everyone about Rachel, my imaginary nymphomaniac girlfriend who lived in Vancouver. Could I have been any less original? Not surprisingly, Canada's primary exports to the U.S. at the time included fish and fish products, lumber, and fake female nymphomaniacs that loved blowing complete loser teenage American boys. Though I recently heard that due to the poor economy, fake Canadian nymphomaniacs are now only exporting completely fabricated handjobs.
I held tight to my bullshit story until I was 16 years old, when I was invited to a party at a friends house. Little did I know I would lose my virginity that night, and as expected, it was the most embarrassingly awful experience of my entire life.
Heather had her eye on me for quite some time. If anyone was going to sleep with me it was Heather, a girl that actually bragged about blowing members of the calculus club and sleeping with a mentally retarded neighbor. That made me feel like a real prize. If this girl had carved a notch in her bedpost for every guy she slept with, I could use her bedpost to pick almond skins out of my teeth.
Heather had recently developed a habit of meeting me at my car after school and grabbing my crotch as I sat in the driver's seat. "You wanna play?" she'd ask, fruitlessly searching my empty jeans for something hard to grip, and eventually massaging an assortment of loose mints and coins lining the interior of my pockets. Most boys my age would have pursued the offer, but I was such a nervous wreck about her touching my penis that it instantly recoiled like the electrical cord on a vacuum cleaner.
I drove to the party that night and proceeded to get fucking wasted out of my mind. Heather arrived drunk about two hours later and bee-lined for my crotch. "Let's go fuck in your car," she said. She grabbed my hand and led me out the door towards the parking lot.
This was it. It was finally going to happen.
Once in the back seat of my car, Heather clothes flew off so fast I barely had time to react. She ripped down my jeans and started giving me my first blowjob, and .... it happened. I got hard. My alcohol-fueled confidence won out over my insecurities, and I was ready to go.
She stopped to come up for air and told me to put on a condom. I scrambled around the dark car trying to find my wallet, and in my drunkenness I instantly went soft. She tried playing with me, but now I was thinking about why I wasn't hard, the absolute death knell of every male erection. "You need to go down on me again," I said. She gave me a look of disgust, which only agitated me further. She sighed and went down on me again, and I lay back thinking to myself "OK, now get hard." Of course, now, it just wasn't going to happen.
"What's wrong with you? Don't you like girls?" she asked.
I was so fucking embarrassed at this point that I had to prove to her there was nothing wrong with me. So I began trying to breathe life into my own deflated penis by yanking on it like I was trying to start an old lawnmower I had just pulled out of a river. She sat in the seat next to me watching, a horrified look on her face usually reserved for the aftermath of fatal car accidents or live televised intestinal surgeries.
I couldn't get myself hard. It was freezing cold, absolutely pouring rain, and a bored naked girl was staring at me expectantly with her arms crossed. Then ..... a spark. I was able to almost get fully hard, but only because mysteriously I was ready to cum. I slipped the condom over myself and told her to get on top of me. I got inside of her for only a couple seconds ... and then my penis slipped out without the condom.
And I came.
On her leg.
"Did you just pee on me?" she asked.
"No .. I ... uh ..."
I didn't have to finish the sentence.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she asked incredulously. She pulled the condom out of her and slapped it on my arm, quickly gathered her clothes, and stormed out of my car, walking with the confidence of a sixteen year-old girl titillated with the anticipation of telling the entire high school that I had either a:) urinated on her, or b:) came faster than a mentally retarded boy.
I sat in my car, staring at the ceiling, soaking in a puddle of my own cold, misfired ejaculate.
I had begun the night a boy in his car, and ended the night a man. Though, in retrospect, I had never imagined becoming a man involved sitting alone in the back of my Volkswagen Rabbit holding my sad, flaccid penis in my hand whilst I hastily mopped up the rapidly crystallizing stalactites of cold, misfired spermitizoa from the roof of my car.
On my first night as a real man, I cried like a little fucking bitch.
So now you know what you have to look forward to, Hurricane Steve.
I'm sure the first time you drove a car, you certainly didn't require a 6 cylinder engine, a 5 speed manual transmission, leather seats and a sunroof. You had no fucking clue what you were doing, so why would it matter?
So wipe your worthless grocery list of vaginal qualifications from the face of the earth, and embrace any make and model of vagina allowing you to pass through her cock wash.
Now that I've thoroughy embarrassed myself with the story I promised, please feel free to leave your truthful and honest initial sexual tragedies in the comments.
Losing your virginity, your first sexual thoughts, whatever you can dig up to make WWHM feel just a bit less like a complete fucking ass.
And you wonder why I choose to remain anonymous.
And of course, read the first comment, which I will post, to make myself feel just a little bit better.
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