for a while longer, a little of this and that, and yep, that's all there was to it. Anti-climactic doesn't just mean that I didn't have an orgasm that I expected, from years of reading Seventeen magazine. Anti-climactic means that after all the scheming I'd done, that sex wasn't much more than an internal handjob.
Then he decided it was time to smoke a cigarette. He ignored my snide comment about the cliché of smoking afterwards, because it was just beginning to dawn on him that there was too much sticky wet for what we'd actually accomplished. He dragged me into the flourescent-lit bathroom and, Dear Jesus, it looked like we'd sacrificed a virgin in the sense of slitting her throat and eating her beating heart. We were covered in more blood than I'd ever seen in one place. And it wasn't just the blood that was disturbing it was the perfect handprints of blood covering both of our backs.
We started giggling. It was as if the Arthur Murray Dance Studio had branched off into instructional sex videos, sticking handprint stickers here and there on models' bodies to show you where to put your hands.
We washed up a little, smoked our cigarettes, and made promises we didn't mean about how having sex with your friends is the best way to go. He compared sex to smoking a joint, said that it's more fun to share than it is to do alone. "I get you high, you get me high." We told each other lies about staying friends and doing this again sometime. We took our showers separately and slept in our own beds.
About a year later I heard that he was engaged in this incredibly reprehensible contest with another guy about who could shag the most girls: a point for every different girl, and virgins were worth three.
A little while after that I heard he dropped out of college.
He wasn't much better than the drunken losers I'd conscientiously avoided sleeping with, but I can say with confidence that I got a better story out of him. I still count the experience as "good sex," because I was certainly engaged in it the entire time.
I no longer consider intercourse to be nothing more than an internal handjob, and I still have multiple orgasms.