Growing up in your stereotypical christian household in a middle eastern country, I’ve always been put off by the prospect of growing intimate with anyone. I had dated a couple times, but been too afraid to initiate anything sexual perhaps due to my own incomprehension of my sexuality. It would only be right, of course, if I began to explore these newfound urges with someone who was equally lacking in experience. That’s where Z comes along. I’d almost grown up with him, you see. In fact, one of my closest friends would crush on him when we were little.
One fine December, we began texting through instagram. I knew I was somewhat attracted to him so I propositioned him further. The flirting ensued with haste and the next thing I knew he was planning a date. Z was one of the only people I’ve dated that seemed to plan dates. It usually goes the other way around with me having to put in effort into planning. Anyways, I digress. He took me out to McDonald’s right after school since it was nearby. I remember going to the washroom and taking of my panties. I did plan on teasing him heavily later. He then got us an uber to a park. I made plans to study so I had got my chemistry textbook with me. When we arrived we walked around for a bit, holding each others hands. My heart was beating so fast I could almost throw it up. We finally found a nice spot to sit down.