My First Time – Under the Stars in Venezuela

Let me tell you about my first time, mami. I was young—16, maybe 17—but I knew what I wanted. And what I wanted was him. His name was Alejandro, and he was older, maybe in his late 20s. He worked on my papá’s parcel, helping with the crops and fixing things around the property. He was tall, with skin the color of warm caramel and hands that were rough from work but gentle when they touched me. His eyes were dark, always watching me, and his smile… ay, that smile could melt even the coldest heart.

I’d been flirting with him for weeks, teasing him with my looks and my laughter. I knew he wanted me—I could see it in the way his eyes followed me, the way his voice got deeper when he spoke to me. And one night, under the stars, it finally happened.

We were in a tent on the parcel, one of those old canvas ones my papá used for storage. Alejandro had been fixing it up, and I’d “offered” to help. It was just the two of us, the air thick with the scent of earth and the sound of crickets chirping outside. He was sitting on a blanket, his shirt off, and I couldn’t stop staring at his chest—broad and strong, with a light dusting of hair that trailed down to his waistband. My heart was pounding, but I wasn’t scared. I was ready.

I sat down next to him, our knees brushing, and he turned to me, his eyes dark with desire. “Maria,” he said, his voice low. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” I asked, tilting my head and giving him that look—the one that always made him stutter. “Are you going to send me away?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out and cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. I shivered, my body responding to his touch like it was made for him. And then he kissed me, and oh, mami, it was everything I’d dreamed it would be. His lips were soft but demanding, his tongue teasing mine until I was breathless. I could feel the heat of his body, the way his hands trembled as they moved down to my waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against my lips, his voice rough. “But you’re too young, Maria. Too innocent.”

I laughed, because innocent was the last thing I felt in that moment. “I’m not a child, Alejandro,” I said, my voice firm. “I know what I want. And I want you.”

He groaned, his forehead resting against mine. “Dios mío, you’re going to be the death of me.”

I didn’t give him a chance to argue. I kissed him again, my hands sliding over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath my fingertips. He let out a low growl, and then his hands were everywhere—on my hips, my back, my breasts. He pulled me onto his lap, and I could feel how much he wanted me, the hard length of him pressing against me through his jeans. It made me ache, made me want him even more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice strained. “Maria, if we do this, there’s no going back.”

“I’m sure,” I whispered, my hands fumbling with the button of his jeans. “I want you, Alejandro. All of you.”

He didn’t need any more convincing. He helped me undress, his hands shaking as he pulled off my clothes and then his own. And then he was naked, and I couldn’t stop staring. He was perfect—strong and lean, with a body that looked like it had been carved from stone. And between his legs… ay, mami, he was big. Long and thick, with veins that stood out against his skin. I felt a flicker of nervousness, but it was quickly drowned out by desire.

He laid me down on the blanket, his body covering mine, and kissed me again, his hands roaming over my skin. “Relax, mi amor,” he whispered, his lips trailing down my neck. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he did. He was gentle, so gentle, as he touched me, his fingers exploring me until I was trembling with need. When he finally entered me, it hurt at first—a sharp, burning pain that made me gasp. But he held me, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered sweet words in Spanish, telling me how beautiful I was, how perfect. And then the pain faded, replaced by a pleasure so intense it took my breath away.

He moved slowly at first, letting me adjust to him, but soon we were both lost in the rhythm, our bodies moving together like they were made for each other. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure crashed over me. And when I finally came, it was like nothing I’d ever felt before—a rush of heat and light that left me shaking.

He followed soon after, his body tensing as he spilled inside me, his breath hot against my neck. We lay there for what felt like hours, our bodies tangled together, the sound of our breathing the only thing breaking the silence.

“Maria,” he said finally, his voice soft. “You’re incredible.”

I smiled, my fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “So are you.”

We stayed like that for a while, talking and laughing, until the sky started to lighten. And then we dressed, sneaking back to the house before anyone could notice we were gone.

Looking back, mami, I don’t regret it. Not one bit. Alejandro was my first, and he made it special. He taught me about passion, about desire, about what it means to truly connect with someone. And even though we didn’t last, I’ll always remember that night under the stars, in that little tent on my papá’s parcel. It was the start of something—something wild, something beautiful, something that’s still a part of me today.