I always believed that my virginity was the only gift I could give to my future husband on our wedding night. Or maybe my favorite religion teacher from third grade just made me believe that. But one steamy evening last March, I had sex with a guy I had only known for two months.
I couldn't control the urge to give in, especially when we were alone. We became so intimate that I wanted more of him. He satisfied my sexual needs. I always felt so insecure. Getting naked in front of someone used to be a far-fetched idea, but undressing myself in front of someone who wanted to touch every single inch of my body made me feel a little more beautiful.
After four months of our relationship, we finally decided to be part of each other’s lives. We fell in love, and we learned more about each other’s interests without having to jump into bed. We started going out. Our alone time was less about having sex and involved more cuddling. Finally, we became official, and we took the relationship to a new level.
He was able to unleash a different side of me—braver, bolder, and willing to venture into new experiences. As an introvert, I never imagined myself having sex while I was still a college student, but I'm actually glad that I did it. I was happy because I did it with someone I loved.
During our intimate moments, I felt something changing within me. I started wearing more revealing clothes, learned to wear make-up, and became open-minded when talking to my friends about the new sex positions my boyfriend and I tried. I felt free and more accepting of who I was, and learned to be more liberated. My boyfriend was more satisfied that I was the one initiating sexual acts, helping him find my G-spot in the process. We were now working together as a couple, both in and out of bed.
Then I met with my guy best friend at a college party. We talked about how we grew apart and how much we've changed since the last time we had talked. I opened up to him, recounting how I had lost my virginity to my boyfriend. He joked about how bad I must be in bed. The comment challenged me, and we found ourselves rushing to the nearest motel.
His touch was different. I felt the warmth of his hands caressing me, and his words sent chills through my whole body.
Then, there was his penis. I never thought that his member could be that big. It felt far more painful compared to my boyfriend's when we first had sex. It was satisfying. It was the best I’d ever had.
The cheating went on. I know it was wrong. My best friend and I would meet at his place without my boyfriend's knowledge. I couldn't help but compare his penis to my boyfriend's. Was I starting to fall out of love because of my boyfriend's smal penisl? Or am I falling in love with my best friend just because he could satisfy my sexual urges?
Then one day, my boyfriend and I had sex again and he told me that something felt different. He could sense something was wrong. After he came, I told him that we needed to talk. I admitted that my best friend and I were hooking up, and that I was sorry for cheating on him. He told me that he already knew what had happened after the party. One of my colleagues told him about the incident, but he decided to keep it to himself.
It was tragic. I felt guilty that I cheated on a great guy, but in the end, I needed to prioritize my overall happiness.