First there
was a blog, then a book, and even a play. Now there is poetry. Today’s
contribution is written by a man but told from a teenage perspective. ‘It's not firmly based on my own experience but draws inspiration partly
from it, as well as from friends' stories, urban tales and media depictions.’
Like me, this man believes that ‘sex is not talked about enough in the increasingly
sexualized world that we live in’.

I like that blokes have these unexpected perspectives. It’s too easy to
believe that men and women are at war with each other. It makes a better story
in a newspaper I guess. Shit is happening, there is no doubt. A new generation
of women are finding their voices. But if I took one learning home from
conducting all the interviews for my book, it is this: men are women are so
much more alike than we think. I’ve heard as much sentiment, heart break,
insecurity and vulnerability from men as I have from women. The difference is
that women are more predisposed to talk to each other about the way they feel. Men
store it up for the rare occasions that they feel ok enough about letting it all out.
Or some random odd person who is writing a book about virginity loss teases it
out of them with a guarantee of anonymity.

As is the norm on this blog, I’ve chosen a pseudonym for today’s writer
but I’m happy to publish his real name should he wish me to.

 

My First Time

My knuckly
fingers fumble

and the
cognizance

of my anatomical
incompetence

is etched upon my
partner’s face –

still and
unimpressed.

With dysfunction
of my confidence

I’m heading for a
fresh near-miss until

syrupy success.

 

Conscious of my
thumping chest

I look to hers,
and eager breasts

look back; expect
to be caressed –

so, one hand
short, I try my best

to pass this
entry level test

and, yes,

my versed
accomplice

signals progress.

 

Now, with vessel
latex-rigged

for a voyage to
the promised land

and a

bullheaded
mentality

to ditch this
damned virginity,

I’m in-

troduced to life
as I don’t know it.

 

Not quite

my dreams of

pulling hair

and steaming love

but jerks

and unrelated

thrusts

(elbows
everywhere!).

Positional
switch.

 

A sound idea it
proves (of hers)

as rhythm,
effortless, occurs

and adolescent
spirit stirs

as I see my
fantasies

 

and feel the
sexual slip ‘n slide

that raunchy film
reels set in mind

the old R Kelly
Bump N’ Grind°,

Well, Robbie,
watch me go!

 

And the second
time the helm is mine

approval’s shown
in rolling eyes;

I sail through
her dampened thighs

toward a virile
future.

‘Til

a rushing wave

from deep inside

syringes up –

a pushing tide

My adolescence

pleads and cries

for prolonging of

this matchless
high

Oh, Mr Kelly

tell me why

this brief first
ride

has end in sight

She still pants

and writhes,
unwise

to fluids
reaching

record highs

 

And with
reluctant

last goodbyes

my crew of debut

sea men flies

overboard

toward new skies,

splash-landing:

devirginized