When I was in 8th Grade, a 25-year-old Man Drove 12 Hours to have Sex with Me Maya Novak-Herzog Follow Sep 5, 2018 · Unlisted

When I was 14, my best friend, Kayla* (all names have been changed for this story), and I made Skout Accounts. This was online dating back in the day. You could do anything from winking at people you thought were cute to having long deliberate conversations with newfound crushes. If things got serious, you’d exchange phone numbers and it kind of progressed from there. We were in a town of 4,000 people, an hour away from any city, so there was no actual hope of meeting up with the people we messaged. It was an adrenaline rush more than anything else, opening up the bright blue app and seeing that five new guys had liked your most recent photo, and ten had sent you messages. My body felt turned on and alive, knowing that it was desired. I couldn’t believe how many men I could get to message me.

Then, Kayla actually started meeting up with boys from the site. They would drive from hours away and arrive at her house late at night. She would sneak out of her house while her devout Mormon parents were sleeping and blow strange men in the backs of their cars. Kayla had long blonde hair and was keeping her virginity until marriage, although she didn’t mind doing “other stuff”…

I started talking regularly to one boy. His name was Michael and he was in a Christian band! Our first conversation was about basketball. I asked him what it was like to play the drums. When the conversation lulled, he told me, “You know, most girls are really boring on this app but you’re the most interesting girl I’ve talked to on here! ” After that, I gave him my phone number. He started asking me about my sexual experiences. I lied and made up an array of stories about many sexual partners and wild experiences I’d never had. In reality, the extent of my sexual history was a failed and painful three second attempt at intercourse with my middle school ex-boyfriend. Besides that experience, I had barely touched a penis.

I asked him about his sex life and he told me about his two ex girlfriends in college. In college! He was 25. When I told him I was 14, he didn’t seem to mind. I made up elaborate tales to keep up with him. Yes, I enjoyed giving blowjobs, even though cum tasted kind of funny. Yes, I liked being on top the most. Yes, I enjoyed giving strip teases. I told him I had never had sex in the shower but wanted to try it. As the conversation started to die down, he asked, “Hey, has any part of this conversation turned you on?” Embarrassed, I shoved my head into the pillow and tensed up my body. How had he known? “Yes” I texted back. Then after a moment, “What about you?” “Definitely.” He responded.

After a few weeks of texting regularly, Michael asked if he could come visit me. We planned for him to come after school on a Friday and rent a motel room near my house. He would pick me up from the library across from my high school and we would get lunch together. Than we’d go back to his motel room and watch TV or something. We made plans to get out and do things as well. We talked about going for a hike on Sunday and him taking me out to an expensive dinner.

My quiet hometown. Population: 4000

I was nervous and slightly regretful on the day of his arrival. I told Kayla that I was having second thoughts during lunch break that day. “What if he rapes me?” I asked her in mock horror. Our other friends sat around us nervously. We were the daredevils of the group, always making them nervous. She laughed, “Just get a feel for him at the library, and if he seems creepy, run inside and call me!” She said, “Remember, he’s a Christian.” This detail seemed to reassure her.

The day he was supposed to arrive, I texted him and told him I was scared. “What if it’s awkward?” I asked. He offered to call me to reassure me but I was worried that would be awkward too. Our entire relationship had been in text format. “Don’t worry,” he told me, “It’s going to be really nice. We’ll get food… You can do a strip tease for me like you’ve always wanted too… We can have fun in the shower… It’s going to be great.”

I wore white short-shorts and a white tank top to school that day; I was already sweating through it by the time I walked to the library. He had texted me that he was in town an hour before school got out so I knew he would be on time. I wasn’t quite sure how far he had driven to meet me, but I knew he had left before the crack of dawn. Kayla had told me where he lived was at least 12 hours away, but I wasn’t sure. He texted me to come out and I did.

“Hi,” he said, coming at me for a big, awkward hug. “Nice to ‘meet’ you.” I was struck by his Southern accent. I had never heard his voice before. We shuffled awkwardly over to the car.

“See,” he said in the car, “I’m not a rapist or murderer or anything.” I giggled nervously and turned my body towards the window. I became ultra aware of my body positioning for the first time. The way my legs jiggled against the car door as it vibrated; the crackling in my throat. I felt paralyzed, like I couldn’t speak. Any excitement that had filled me felt drained. Suddenly, I felt very ashamed and lonely. Who was this guy?

Without telling me where he was going, he drove through town. He stopped at a McDonalds Drive Thru and ordered a burger, chicken nuggets, and Dr. Pepper for himself. As he finished ordering he looked at me quickly and said, “You don’t want anything, do you?” So much for our nice get-to-know-you lunch. He took a big bite of his burger and sped out of the drive-thru. Ketchup dripped onto the car seat.

His motel room was on the other side of town. He had finished his meal by the time we arrived in the parking lot. He ushered me through the hallway, and fumbled with his keycard. Once inside, his motel room felt musty. A half empty pizza box lay open on the table by a TV. There were two beds in the room. He had a suitcase zipped open on top of one and he flopped onto the other. Unsure what to do, I sat next to him. He turned on the TV and watched some basketball game, barely talking. I was struck by how little he looked at me. We hadn’t made eye contact once. Who was this guy?

The motel

We watched TV for an indeterminate amount of time. Could have been a few minutes or half an hour, but I was keenly aware of his body next to mine. He inched closer and closer as the men in blue uniforms threw the basketball at each other. I wasn’t safe looking at the TV, as his head was turned in that direction too, so I stared at the pizza box, wondering if he had called it in or picked it up somewhere. At some point, he put his arm around me. I pushed into the crook of his arm and felt okay; I thought, “this doesn’t have to be so bad.” After several minutes he said, “Okay, I’m just gonna go for it,” and grabbed my face and kissed me. I wish I could describe the kiss. I want to say wet and sticky but I don’t recall. I do remember thinking that usually when boys kissed me, my body was turned on.

I had felt that way many times with my ex-boyfriend, Elijah*. We had spent our few month relationship pushing our lips together for hours and hours and our bodies would ache because we wanted more and didn’t know how to ask and didn’t know what that looked like. Sometimes Elijah would put his hands under my bra and feel my nipples and once or twice during every makeout session I would put my hand on the hard thing in his pants; I was never sure what to do with my hand once it was there, but I would just lay it there because it seemed like the right thing to do. One time he told me I was doing the “Freshman penis touch.” He said, “It goes like this: ‘The girl puts her hand in your pants and goes ‘I’m touching your penis! Now I’m not touching your penis!’’” I laughed but was quite embarrassed. I wanted to do more but didn’t know what more meant.

This time, my body was not turned on or aching. It felt so rushed and hasty, as this man fondled my lips and prodded his tongue. I had never felt an adult man’s stubble brushing against my face. I lay there in shock, unsure what the protocol was at this point. As I contemplated kissing him back, he grabbed my boob over my shirt, an action that snapped me from my haze. With Elijah, it had taken weeks of kissing for him to touch me up there; this man’s hands were on me after two seconds of kissing. I pushed back abruptly.

“What?” He asked gruffly.

“Oh, well, I don’t think I want to do that right now,” I responded.

He pulled back confused. “Why am I here, then?” he asked. It was a big question and I wracked my brain for an explanation. This guy had just driven 10 or 12 or some indiscriminate amount of hours to see a girl he had been sexting for weeks now. Of course we needed to kiss. I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid.

The next day, I walked over to his motel with Kayla. We figured that if Kayla spent the weekend with me, my mom would be more likely to let me spend most of the weekend at Michael’s motel. The three of us talked and went into the pool, but mostly we watched TV with all three of us in the bed together, while I touched his penis under the sheets. At one point, he suggested Kayla go in the pool by herself. She didn’t want to do that, but got the hint and took his laptop outside the room to play games while we “did whatever we were gonna do anyway.”

We kissed for a while, and then took off all of our clothes. I had never seen a man fully naked before. He said, “Should I get the condoms?” and I decided that I might as well let him have sex with me. I had kind of wanted to have a real first time soon, anyway, so I could know what it was like. Also, I had learned recently that men came semen after a while and I wanted to see that too. I had never seen a man have an orgasm before and I was curious.

Michael put the condoms on the little dresser next to us and got back on top of me. He kissed me for a while, and I moaned a bit and wondered what was taking him so long. I kept my eyes on his hands, wondering when he was going to grab the condoms, but he didn’t. We lay there for a while, awkwardly kissing, but even his kissing had grown lackluster.. Finally, I said, “So… are we going to have sex?”

He propped himself up and looked at me, “yeah… I was kind of waiting for you to get me hard.” I felt a wave of shame wash over me. I felt like an idiot. I knew men’s penises changed sometimes when we kissed, but I didn’t know it had anything to do with condoms or sex. “Oh…” I said and my voice felt very far away. “How?”

“Well,” he said, “you could like blow me, or touch it or something”. I hadn’t realized having sex would result in work on my part. When Elijah had put his thing in me, we had just kind of jammed it in until I said it hurt too much. This felt different. I didn’t know how to blow someone or touch them. I worried I would do it wrong and then I would really look like an idiot. I burst from the bed, overwhelmed, and went outside to Kayla who was laughing at some Youtube video. “I think he’s going to rape me!” I told her, hysterically. “I don’t want to have sex!”

Kayla talked me down, and went inside the room to explain the situation to Michael. Then we all went to Subway where we all bought our own sandwiches and pretended to enjoy them. Afterwards, Kayla and I went home where she explained to me that there was a lot of things you could do with older men that didn’t involve condoms. “Just give him a blowjob and he won’t try to make you have sex with him,” she reassured me.

I went back to Michael’s motel room the next day and sucked his dick. We had planned on going for a hike when we had texted about plans earlier in the week but turned out he wasn’t much of a hiker. We kissed and he touched my vagina. Elijah had done this to me quite frequently, sliding his hands over my underwear and pressing the spots that felt warm. I always made him stop after a few seconds, would push his hands away and giggle, “Elijah”. He would laugh and move his hand away. Continue to kiss me. His fingers would slowly maneuver down to the warm spots. An endless cycle of cat and mouse. I wasn’t sure why I was pushing his hands away but it felt like the right thing to do at the time.

This time, I laid still. His hand made circular movements over my clitoris as he kissed me. I found it odd that he never touched me without kissing me. It would have been too strange to touch each other without our lips pressed hard and my eyes closed shut. Finally, I began to feel the way my body felt when I masturbated. I was shocked; had never known another person could produce that feeling. His fingers were gruff and my clit felt irritated to the touch but I knew I had to concentrate or else the feeling would be lost. I didn’t want it to slip away. I focused as hard as I could on my clit and pretended I was alone at night in my bed, my own fingers making counterclockwise circles, as opposed to his gruff picking. “Don’t stop,” I told him over and over as my body inched in and out of its breaking point. Several times I lost the feeling but shut my eyes tighter and begging for it back seemed to help. Sheer concentration, sheer willpower. I pushed myself to the edge and erupted in the tiniest, weakest orgasm I had ever felt. Compared to the explosions I produced in my own bedroom, it was pitiful, but I soared, knowing someone else was capable of doing to my body what I had done for so long.

“Wow, I think I came,” I told him. And it was the first tender moment we had.

“Now make me cum,” he told me, and pushed my head to his penis. I didn’t know what to do down there but it smelled pretty weird. I fumbled around with my mouth, confused, but I must have been doing something right. After tedious minutes and a very sore jaw, his body began to tighten. I had never seen anything like it. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out grueling noises; I could not distinguish whether he was in pain or pleasure, took him telling me, “Don’t fuckin stop baby” for me to be sure. Afterwards, I spit his long awaited cum into the sink. A few minutes later, I walked home by myself.

For days after, I felt tender and raw. I couldn’t believe what had happened to my body. I couldn’t believe that had happened to his body. I had felt semen! I had made him do that. And me! I had done that thing I had made myself do so many times in my own room, with someone else!

For a few days after, we texted back and forth. He told me if he had lived closer, he would make me his girlfriend. Then, he got mad at me for smoking pot (he was a Christian, after all). Just as abruptly as our correspondence started, he stopped talking to me and started ignoring my texts. Haven’t heard from him since. He’s 33 now. I wonder how is Christian band is doing.