I grew up with many boys – nine boys in total – because daddy had a few sons and took in every stray relative who needed a place to stay. Growing up was always noisy and androgen-filled. And then, as we hit puberty, I started going out with my plenty brothers and we began testing the waters of our raging heterosexual hormones. And all the while, I kept my budding awareness that I liked boys a secret, well and truly hidden by the strength of my mortification.
I eventually lost my virginity to our house help. Her name was Ogonna. I was about fifteen, she was twenty. I had seen a few porno movies in VCR (is that still around?) so I experimented with what I’d seen with her. The first attempt was a disaster, and I came in less than two minutes. *covers face*
Eventually we started having sex regularly after everyone went to sleep. And then, Mommy found out (Actually I was not the only one giving it to her; in a house of ten boys… Go figure), and she was sent home.
I went on to lose my second virginity (is that even a phrase?) to a guy when I was nineteen. The experience was electrical, like an explosion in my brain. And I haven’t looked back since. Continue reading