Disclaimer: In Real Life is a platform for everyday people to share their experiences and voices. All articles are personal stories and do not necessarily echo In Real Life’s sentiments.
I was 30 years old before it finally happened: I lost my virginity to a man.
But I didn’t lose it to someone I was truly, madly, and deeply in love with. I wasn’t interested in a drunken fumbling encounter with a boy (or man) from a nightclub who can’t tell his penis from a dildo.
I hired a male escort for the occasion.
Being “wired differently”
[source: Alexander Grey on Unsplash]
I also know that my Conservative Muslim Parents would view that as haram.
I was lucky that the IPTS I went to had girls-only dorms, where I lived with like-minded – and by Malaysian Muslim standards – sexually aware and very “deviant young women” (lesbians).
They “corrupted me,” but let’s be clear here: I wasn’t dragged over the line, I crossed it skipping and singing and later on screaming in pleasure – repeatedly.
[source: We-Vibe Toys on Unsplash]
That made me wonder if am I more bisexual than lesbian.
Did that matter?
source: Dainis Graveris on Unsplash]
To me, It did. It started as an idle musing, then began to wander into my thoughts more, a lot more.
So, I broached the topic with my girlfriend and she shrugged and said, “Grab a guy, ride the dick and find out.”
Open relationship. Don’t judge what you don’t understand.
I tried that and It never went anywhere. Came close a few times, but somehow, a semi-drunk hook-up didn’t feel right to me.
I spent some time on Google and figured to do this right, I was going to have to pay for it. Literally.
The Booking.
I think the most embarrassing thing about the whole thing was trying to explain to the escort agency that I was a woman and what exactly I was looking for. Incredibly, the agency was very polite, very understanding, and asked questions about what I was looking for – they even had a dedicated section of their website where I could choose my “entertainer” for the occasion.
[image provided by author]
“My brain was all, “What’s it going to be like?” and “How’s it going to feel?” I couldn’t believe that in a few minutes, I was going to be with a man…a naked one… that I’d be able to touch, and do all those things you see in your average video on Pornhub.”
Of course, at this point I’m just interested in one very nice genre: Defloration.
The Hotel
I arrived and walked into the lobby. It felt like the entire hotel lobby was watching me. Judging me. I should have turned back. But I didn’t.
It was a damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t moment. So I’d rather be damned for doing. I got the room number at the front desk and was on my way.
I was a giddy schoolgirl on the inside, but I think managed to project that I was cool, calm and collected on the outside as I stood outside his hotel room door, and knocked.
He was waiting for me and when he opened the room door, he proceeded to, very sweetly invite me. There was just a… very handsome man, well dressed who invited me to sit down, and with almost no other preparation.
[source: alevision.co on Unsplash]
We talked, just… talked. I don’t know how but he managed to put me at ease and make me feel comfortable and relaxed.
I asked him more out of nerves than anything, what it was like, with other… clients like me. He said it was a “very niche” industry and he did it on the side mostly to make some extra cash.
He also explained the lack of flowers, candlelight, soft mood music or anything to “mark” the occasion – basically no romantic preparations – helps reduce anxiety and “first-timer” nerves.
The Proverbial “It” Moment.
Then, before I knew it, he’d smoothly seduced me out of my clothes and I was naked atop the bed.
I’ll spare you the pornographic details – that’s what erotic literature is for – but all together it was almost 3 hours long.
source: Dainis Graveris on Unsplash]
He was slow, kind, and gentle, and made me feel at ease with what was going on. He never pushed or hurried me.
I like the way the whole thing felt like he was helping a girl become a woman. I felt ready when he finally did take my virginity.
I did feel something change as we had sex: a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. As if sexual mysteries were suddenly demystified, and now possessed hallowed membership to enter a secret adult club.
Before, something about sexual intimacy with a man would scare the satanic verses out of me.
And that was constantly at war with a long-running curiosity and itch about dicks and sex with men in general.
I had just enjoyed the feeling of having sex with a man. It gave me a thrill. Being heterosexual felt naughty, somehow. But sadly, despite the orgasms and the feel-good vibes, the only thing I learned from two hours with a man was that I no longer felt sexually intimidated by one.
I have neither feelings nor an emotional connection to the “Chad” I’d hired to lose my virginity to.
In Hindsight…
Honestly, I was an idiot about the whole thing and confused about my sexuality.
I was still trying to be the “good girl” with my parents, despite living in sin with my girlfriend in an open relationship while pretending to be the “good girl” my parents assumed I was.
When you consider that I’ve never been in love or romantically interested in a man, it’s ironic that I want to know what good sex with a man is like.
It’s a concept so foreign and alien to me, I can only describe the whole thing as exploring my heterosexuality the way “straight people” explore their own homosexuality. Hence the male escort.
Hence my partner’s tacit approval. And my damned if I did – I was just exploring.
[image provided by author]
Sadly for my parents, that skilfully applied dick didn’t fuck me straight, so no grandchildren now, or quite possibly ever. Sad and funny how life works out, isn’t it?
Do you know anyone with an interesting story to share? Drop us an email at hello@inreallife.my and we may feature the story.
For more stories like this, read:
An Open Letter To My Malaysian Ex-Girlfriend Who Was Dating A Girl At The Same Time As Me
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