What's bad is a matter of perspective. I was not abused as a child, quite the contrary, I had a very nice healthy childhood. I was not poor, my family was comfortably very well off. I was an only child. I was spoiled as a child. My parents were both well educated, and both sets of my grandparents were very well educated. I finished my masters degree. I traveled as a young teen and continue to travel.

What is bad is that I was never able to have a romantic relationship growing up. My best friend was thrashed and taken at sixteen. The boy fed her his junk and she had little choice other than to please him. I resented her stories and her complaints. I had never felt a hand on my breast or my ass, I didn't know what a French kiss was, and I had never been penetrated, in anger or otherwise. I graduated from high school and I still had my hymen, which was quite noticeable to the touch. I was scared to tear it with my finger and I refused to wear tampons. I wanted a boy to tear it, to make me bleed.

I read a whole lot of romantic novels, and then some. Some very erotic novels. Kidnap, r**e, disappearance, slavery in foreign land. I read every article of assault, murder and break in I could find. I imagined some dark and mysterious man following me after dark. But I graduated from college with my hymen intact. I never used my fingers, or objects of art, I never used tampons. I was totally unpenetrated. In the meantime my classmates were getting lucky on dates, had their mouths filled with man cum, some were experiencing anal sex. Although, to be honest that made no sense to me.

I went on a post graduation trip to Italy and France. Do you think I met some Italian man or French man who wanted to fuck an American girl? No. I never met any. The only people you spoke with were those on the tour. I went to work, got my job the old fashioned way, I got good grades. I joined the art circuit because that is what I understood. Real men don't do art.

One day, the day after my 25th birthday I confided in a girl from work that I was unpenetrated anywhere. She said not to worry, she would take care of it. She brought me this thing, a male part sex toy. She told me that it was her best friend, you didn't have to clean up after him. You just put him in your dresser drawer and you took advantage of him when ever you needed to feel something dark and hard up your vagina. She said that a man wasn't any where close to what I was holding in my hand. If I wanted to know what a man was like I should hold a regular hot dog.

I took her gift home but never used it.

One day, after work, it was dark because it was winter, I was followed into my apartment and my hymen was broken. It was hard to say how big he was, his hand was on my mouth, his forehead against mine so I never got a good look. I don't know how big 'it' was, it felt like it was really big. I never would compare it to a hot dog. It hurt for a moment, but then it did not hurt at all. Maybe it was the moment, I could smell his body, it was a man smell I had never smelled, I surmise it is of a man in heat. I suppose my body smelled too, because I was very much in heat.

I lay there for quite some time after he left. How long, maybe a half hour or more. I turned and took out my friend's gift, I did what she said and lubricated it with the bottle she gave me, and I inserted it in, shoved it in really, until it just didn't go in any more, in and out, hard against me, as hard as I could. My other hand pinching my nipple, my nipple hurt but I kept pinching it, and then I began rubbing my clitoris and I had my first orgasm. But that is the anti climax. Climax is when you remove that thing, when you pull it out and lay it on the bed beside you.

It's not fair because you want to experience it again, except now you know what to do. You would pull his hand away and make him French kiss you, you know that you would want to be all naked and you would want him to be all naked. You know that if you want him to stay you need to keep some beer in the refrigerator. You know that you want to get up and see him lying there exhausted from his work and pick up his clothes and fold them neatly. You know that you do not want to have to reach for your friend's gift. Mario, I think his name is Mario.