Smell My Fingers By David Wygant

For those of you that like to reminisce, I want to reminisce about one of the very first times I got to third base. As a male, I always remember in high school that after fooling around with a girl all my friends would ask me “How far did you get?”

First base was kissing. Second base was feeling her up. Third base was finger banging. Forget about a home run . . . that was a dream. I do remember that whenever a guy claimed to have gotten to third base with a girl, none of the other guys would believe him.

Think about how primitive third base used to be: You stick your fingers in her. You move them around. You have no idea what to do. She has no idea what to do. Then you basically play with each other until you’re raw.

I remember the first time I went to third base. It was a hot summer night, one of those sticky New York summer nights where the air was as thick as my grandmother’s hairspray. I was at a party, and I don’t really remember the name of the girl (that seems to be a trait that has continued throughout my adult life).

Anyway, I remember getting really drunk at this keg party. I was the official keg pumper, and this cute girl came over and we started talking.

The next thing I know, she was asking me where the bathroom was, and although I didn’t know I offered to go in the house and help her find it. I wasn’t that smooth at sixteen, and I really thought she wanted me to help her find the bathroom.

So we go into the house. For those of you who remember high school, I feel so bad for parents who came home after 200 teenagers got drunk in their house.

Anyway, we continue our bathroom search, and it led us upstairs. We went into the parents’ bedroom, and as she was going into the master bathroom she said she would only be a minute and that I should sit on the bed and wait.

She actually did come out after a minute. She sat down next to me on the bed and we started making out. Now up to that point in my life, I had only been to second base. So I didn’t expect anything to happen.

The next thing I know, she starts dry humping me as we continue to make out. She then says that it would feel much better with our pants off . . . and who am I to argue? I’m sixteen after all.

So we took off our pants and we’re standing there. She is wearing the first pair of panties I had ever seen on a woman except for my mother and my grandmother. I was in my tight white jockey shorts.

She then gets on top of me and starts moist humping me. Apparently it gets really moist down there . . . something I’d heard rumors about up until that point but had never experienced.

What I really wanted at this point, even though I was enjoying the dry humping a lot, was to feel that moisture for myself. So while she’s dry humping me, I do ‘the reverse poke around.’ For those of you who are unfamiliar with the famous ‘reverse poke around,’ it is the scenario where a young boy has a young girl on top of him and he reaches his hand around her butt and tries to slide his fingers inside her groin.

I had heard about this famous ‘reverse poke around,’ and decided to try it for myself. I managed to feel that divine wetness for the very first time, soft and silky like like the inside of my lip.

When I touched it for the very first time, she let out a moan. Hmm, I thought, I must be doing something right. There must be something to this ‘reverse poke around’ technique.

Feeling gutsy, I pushed her off of me and decided to try the full throttle finger-on-vagina sensation. She allowed me to do this for a glorious three minutes, before she said we should get out of there so that we didn’t get caught.

So figuring that I got lucky enough, and that I might as well quit while I was ahead, I agreed. I then headed back out to see all of my friends.

I went back outside, and my buddies were all hanging around the keg. I was walking out there like a celebrity, as I knew they wanted to know what had happened. So, she ran up to her friends and I ran up to mine.

I looked at my friends and said “You wouldn’t believe it! I just got to third base with . . . (God, what is her name?!)” They all looked at me and said “No you didn’t.” I then proudly looked back at them and said “Smell my fingers!” They all gloriously whiffed away.

It was so nice being king for the day. It was such a great feeling to be able to be the first of my friends to have physical evidence as powerful as “smell my fingers.”

Now it’s your turn. Since this is a blog, I don’t think that we can smell each other’s fingers. So, instead, tell me about your most memorable first time encounter.

Also check out some body language tips from my trip to London’s Camden Market.