First Time

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Don't be too disappointed ;)

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It was not how she had expected her first time with a girl to be.

She had always thought that it would be kind and loving and special, a thing of soft touches and gentle murmurings and sweetness. She had thought that she and Jennie would take their time, making slow discoveries together. She had thought it would be in Jennie's bedroom, with its cool, white sheets and billowing drapes. She had thought that the soundtrack would be something mellow, Damien Rice, maybe, or even something retro like Frank Sinatra, because Jennie had the most surprisingly vast and varied music collection and anything was possible with her.

She had not expected a hot, sweaty encounter in a no-tell motel off the state highway that cost $27 a night (plus tax).

On the way from the front desk to the room, they had been unable to control themselves and the kissing that had started in the club resumed with greater urgency. As Jisoo had tried to slip the key into the door of the dingy room, she had felt the brunette's arms snake around her waist and slide inside her top. When those clever hands had grasped her breasts, squeezing and teasing and pleasing, she had let her head fall forward onto the door with the chipped green paint. It had taken a great deal of effort for her to turn the key and force the door open. They had burst through the door in a frenzy of attached limbs and urgent touches.

Which explained why she was on her back on the floor, her cami top pushed up around her neck, her favourite turquoise bra pulled down roughly and her head writhing from side to side as the brunette sucked and teased her nipple. It was definitely not gentle, nor was the hand that was kneading her other breast and occasionally flicking the nipple with her thumb. There was nothing to hold onto on the floor, so Jisoo moved her hands to grab handfuls of hair, holding the brunette's mouth in place. When she felt teeth nibbling her engorged skin, she couldn't remain silent any longer.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" she moaned. In response, she felt the brunette grinning.

"You like that, huh?"

She nodded furiously and arched her back more, pressing her nipple deeper into the other girl's mouth. She realised that her shoulders had been pushing deep into the matted, stained carpet. The last thing she wanted was carpet burns in a place where anyone - including her parents when she had her usual Sunday dinner with them the following day - could see.

"Bed," she grunted, nodding in the direction of the queen-sized divan.

They scrambled from the floor onto the bed, both taking the opportunity to remove more clothing. A pair of jeans, a tank top, a short skirt and two bras were tossed unceremoniously onto the floor as they moved together, trying to continue kissing while they were undressing. The kisses were sloppy, open-mouthed, greedy and hot. Jisoo could taste alcohol and sweat. She knew it came from both of them. The nondescript comforter was kicked off of the bed and Jisoo felt herself being pressed into over-starched sheets.

Somewhere within the motel, a couple was having a screaming argument over drink or drugs or infidelity or perhaps all three. It seemed fitting somehow, mixing with the random soundtrack of cars passing and stray cats fighting.

She remembered her other first time, back in Ohio. It had been after Prom and it was in a considerably higher standard of hotel room, the kind with high-end branded toiletries in the bathrooms and carpets with the hotel's logo tastefully woven into them. She had only been a sophomore, but Ned, her boyfriend, had been a senior. She had known when he had picked her up from her parents' house in the rented limo, a boxed corsage in his hand, that she was going to give him her virginity that night. His kisses had also been alcohol-tinged, but they had been too forceful, too rough. It wasn't that she hadn't been willing - the desire to feel normal and to find out what all her friends had been making a big deal had been strong within her - but Ned had been as inexperienced as she was. His fumblings had been perfunctory and based on some teenage boy's idea of manliness, rather than any true appreciation for how to give pleasure. When the big event itself had happened, it had been brief, disappointing and uncomfortable. She would carry the image of him spitting on his hand and then wiping it onto the condom for the rest of her life.

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