Senior year of high school, at 17 years of age and still about a decade away from emerging from my awkward phase, I had my first oral encounter with womankind. I ran into my physics partner (we'll call her Gretchen) at a party, and ended up hooking up with her. She can thank Kamchatka Vodka for that. I need to give some background on Gretchen. She was a lacrosse player with a rather large stature, probably 5' 9" or so, and had a solid build. Although Gretchen wasn't that attractive, she had huge tits.

Still, she was an aggressive force to be reckoned with. After hooking up with her at that party, I knew she wanted me. I had heard through the grapevine that frequently she would demonstrate her oral prowess on produce at lunch in front of her friends, and gave pointers on how to give the proper blowjob. I don't know if I'd even gotten to second base yet at this point in my life. All the pieces quickly set in motion, in an epic battle between adolescent male hormones and good judgment. I decided that it was finally time to become a man, with little hint of the traumatic experience awaiting me.

I worked at our country club in the tennis pro-shop, and later in the week I had Gretchen swing by. Usually the pro-shop closed at 10, but not tonight. About 8:30 I turned off the lights, locked the door, cleared everything off the counter, and started making out with her on top of it. I mean, I may as well do it right, ya know? We quickly started rounding the bases, pausing only when angry old women would knock on the door of the dark tennis shop, thinking I would actually answer it. Not surprisingly, I got fired the next week.

Finally, after some sloppy french kissing, she headed downstairs. The hands turned from eagle talons into....I guess basically something like blind raccoon paws, because there was a lot of uncomfortable clawing at my manhood going on. Still, these hands were welcome strangers and I pressed on, waiting eagerly for the main performance. The curtain was drawn back, and it began. I remember grinning at the fact that I was getting paid $6.25 an hour to get this blowjob on the floor of my country club tennis shop.

Now I didn't have anything to compare this to, but I knew something was weird. Every time she was on her way up there was an uncomfortable popping sensation. I began to wonder if the oral anatomy of the female mouth differed from my own, and what all the hype was about. This really wasn't all that good and was quickly getting progressively worse. About 10 minutes later it was just starting to hurt. We were both sweating, mine from pain and anxiety. I would come to find out about a month later, when her fake tooth and attached cheese-grating dental bridge fell out in class, what exactly caused the popping. The scene looked something like this:

At about 20 minutes in I felt relief as she pulled up. I plunged back into horror after she announced, "I'll finish you with my hand," gave it a big lick, and started jerking me off. Any lingering bit of moisture was gone in about three pumps. My penis already felt like a foot that had run a marathon in a sockless shoe, and she was yanking on it like a possessed Dutch milkmaid. Or, perhaps a gardner pulling weeds. She finally stopped when I went flaccid in a self-preservation effort. She had bragged about being good at this, but left me with like a third degree indian burn on my cock. Following this experience was an awkward period of about a month where we ignored each other and avoided eye contact at all costs, which was hard because we were physics partners. I never thought I'd say this... but, thinking back? I'm actually really grateful for all of the guys who taught every other girl who gave me one. You would be too if you were scarred in a similar manner.