LGBT+

How Was It?

*Dedicated to everyone who reminded me that I still needed to write an asexual story. I hope you like it :)

P.S. Little bit of sexy times at the beginning. If you want, just skip ahead until the first bold row of asterisks.
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God, that physics test today sucked. I hope I passed, I can't afford to drop below a B in the class if I wanna keep my GPA up. It's my senior year and I'm at a solid 3.6. That's good enough for college, right? Crap, that reminds me! I have to finish filling out that college application when I get home. When's the deadline again? Double crap! Speaking of deadlines, I think that English essay is due tomorrow. I'll have to sparknote that book we were supposed to read and type up some bullshit when I get home, only I need to be in bed by ten if I want to get up in time for early track practice tomorrow morning—

Suddenly, my thoughts are interrupted as Brandon shoves his tongue deeper into my mouth. Oh yeah. I'm kissing my boyfriend on the leather couch in his basement. Damn it, focus Haley.

I press my mouth tighter over Brandon's, doing my best to make it seem like I'm into it. He doesn't seem to need further convincing, however, as he pulls my right leg up over his hip and shoves his hand under my shirt. His fingers creep up under my bra and he cups my left boob.

God, his hands are freezing. What the hell is he even doing, anyway? Is boob-cupping supposed to be sexy? I'll have to google it when I get home.

"Mmm, Haley..." Brandon moans in between kisses. I take a cue from him and moan back. I feel ridiculous. Do people really moan like that during sex? I thought moaning was just one of those myths made popular by porn, like that lesbians scissor and all women have Brazilian waxes.

Brandon's fingers at the waistline of my jeans interrupt my thoughts once more. Right. Losing my virginity. FOCUS, Haley!

Frustrated, I attempt to concentrate on what my boyfriend's doing, while at the same time trying to remember what I read on the internet last night when I googled how sex was supposed to feel.

Okay, his fingers are creeping into my pants. He's edging his way into my underware. I tense up.

He must notice, because he stops immediately. "Is this okay?" He asks, still breathing heavily. Way more heavily than I am.

I can't help but love him for stopping to ask, though: I can feel his bulging hard-on against my leg, straining the fabric of his jeans. He's obviously eager for this.

Way more eager than I am.

"Yeah, of course," I say, faking my own eagerness and pressing our lips back together. We're seventeen. We've been together for two years, and I'm sick of being mocked for being the only one of my friends who's still a virgin. We are going to do this.

Brandon leans me back onto the couch gently and eases down my pants with care, kissing me the entire time. He yanks off his own. My eyes are shut, but I feel him poised to enter the place between my legs.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks me one more time. It's like he can sense that, although my body is responding in all the right ways, my brain isn't enjoying itself at all.

I open my eyes and look straight into his. "Yes," I say.

Slowly, he moves into me.

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"So???? How was it?" Shane prompts as he pops the cork of the champagne bottle Kelley brought.

I groan. That is the question I was dreading.