Tag Archives: First Times

I Saw Strippers, Too

Hiba and I went out for Nicole’s birthday Saturday. We got to McKibbins around 11 p.m. I thought I was super early but I wasn’t. At all. I’m starting to notice that I go out much later than other people. My bad, everyone.

shoesNicole was already drunk – pleasant and coherent, but drunk. I had time to enjoy one drink before she blurted out that she wanted to go to a strip club.

A strip club, eh? I wondered if I’d ever been to one. Had I? I’m still not sure. Vague memories of being in a strip joint at some point in time come to mind, but I think that may have been a dream. Sometimes I can’t remember if my adventures were dreams or real life.

Anyway, we got up and went to one of the many sketchy establishments on Ste Catherine St. Oddly enough, the doorman knew Hiba. He kept saying something like, “Habibi, you came to see me!” Apparently, she’d been to that strip club before. Perhaps she’s wilder than I thought.

So we all paid our stupid $5 admission fee, then our coat check fee, and were greeted with NO BUFFET. All strip clubs should provide their patrons with snacks, amirite? My stomach was growling!

We sat by the stage (but not directly in front of it because we’re not pathetic old men) and ordered some drinks. I asked for a vodka soda. I was given vodka water. Vodka tap water, actually. After seeing the bill (and pushing my eyeballs back into their sockets), I began sipping my disgusting drink very, very slowly; two drinks totaled $27, sans tip. Twenty-seven-fucking-dollars. Incredible.

I was bummed but hoped that boobies would cheer me up.

They didn’t.

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My First Male Stripper

Our friend Nicole encountered her very first stripper peen this weekend. She was awesome enough to write about her experience and send it over to us. Now you get to read about it, too. Thanks, Nicole! Oh, and feel free to share your own stripper stories in the comments.

copI have never seen a male stripper before, only females. My female stripper experience happened once upon a time on a drunken adventure in Tijuana, but that’s a completely different story. My first male stripper experience happened this past weekend. You’d think it would be on a night out with the girls, right? Think again.

First off, let me set the scene. My boyfriend and I had just finished work. We met up with my mom at the terminus in Brossard. Once my dad picked us up, we were on our way to Chenoy’s for my aunt’s surprise birthday party, with all our family and friends. Intrigued and confused yet? Keep reading.

Allow me to clear things up by providing a detailed description of the birthday girl. She can pound ’em back with the best of them; she can polish off a 2-4 and still stand straight and have room for another 12 pack. Did I mention she’s 4’10” and 100 lbs soaking wet? She’s quite the wild one, and fun as hell.

So my uncle decided to throw her a big surprise party in the restaurant’s hall. The place was a decent size. We had our own wait staff, bar, dance floor and DJ… the works. And my entire gigantic family was there; even cousins of cousins. There was free wine on the tables and beer was flowing. They actually had to rush to get more beer ’cause we were pounding them back so hard.

After dinner (which was pretty good, to my surprise), my family played a slideshow for my aunt. It included a montage of lovely and sometimes embarrassing photos. What’s a 40th birthday party without those? We were laughing, we were singing, we were dancing, when all of a sudden…

The room went black.

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Hiba’s First Poutine

There are four food groups in Quebec, but they’re a little different from the ones you learned about in school. They consist, in order of importance, of: fries, cheese curds, gravy and Pepsi. Yeah, poutine is pretty much unavoidable here. Even our McDonalds’ serve it. Since I’ve entered this world, I’ve indulged in countless of these babies. They’re delicious at all times; so delicious that New Jersey decided to rip us off and “invent” Disco Fries. Bastards.

Hiba has lived here for two years. The other day, she randomly admitted to me that she’d still never had poutine. I couldn’t believe it. I asked her why and she said, “Because it looks like a heart attack.” Um, yeah, it does look like a heart attack, but does that mean you shouldn’t eat it? No. So in addition to inviting Hiba to her first concert, I decided to take her for her first poutine. Our destination? La Banquise.

She seemed pretty excited when I met up with her. She said that regardless of how it looks, she’d heard good things about poutine and more importantly, she was hungry. La Banquise can pretty much do no wrong in terms of fries, gravy and cheese, but I still wondered if she’d actually like it.

I assumed she’d play it safe and go for the original kind, but she took a walk on the wild side and opted for the Frank Poutine (I think). It has sausage in it.

P1010344

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Remember Your First Concert?

When I got accepted into my school’s journalism program, I knew zero people in it. It was a little intimidating, but I like to keep to myself anyway. Soon enough, Hiba, a sweet Arab girl, befriended me. We never really hung out off campus until she admitted that she’d never been to a concert. “WTF,” I thought. I had to bring her to one. So, that weekend, I invited her to see Fucked Up. This is a little article I wrote right after the show.

“What are concerts like? I’ve never been to one.” I was kind of floored when Hiba, a classmate of mine, asked me that. I didn’t know what to answer so I decided to let her see for herself by bringing her to her very first show: Fucked Up and Dillinger 4.

hibaWe met up around 10 p.m. on a Saturday night. She explained to me that she moved to Montreal from Jordan, and that there are no concerts there. I don’t know how true that is, but it made her all the more excited. In fact, she seemed a little too excited so I crushed her hopes a bit and told her not to expect huge crowds or pyrotechnics or shit like that; rather, she should expect a small venue and a lot of fat guys.

I took some alcohol out of my bag and offered her the share she was entitled to as my platonic date for the night. She sniffed it and was all, “This smells like shit. What is it?” I answered that it was a light drink (OK, in reality it was absurdly strong) made mainly with rum. She confessed she’d never tasted rum before. “Good Lord,” I thought, “I’m tainting this girl’s innocent spirit.” I decided I could live with that and insisted she drink it. Soon enough she was giggling and telling me how pirates like rum. My concoction appeared to be working. Success!

When we finally got to the show, she was smiling ear to ear. She smiled during every song. It was like seeing a kid in a candy store, and it reminded me of my first concert experience: Boyz II Men and Montell Jordan. I was nine years old and to this day, it remains one of my favorite shows ever. They even did magic tricks. Back to Hiba, though, she was having a blast. At one point she told me she wanted to do ‘that thing where people hold you above their heads.’ I stupidly made her feel my misshaped skull (an accident that happened after stage diving) and she backed out. I tried to convince her anyway but she still didn’t want. I was bummed.

She ended up leaving a little early to catch the last metro home, but later on she texted me about how much fun she’d had. At least I think she did; I was really wasted. It could have been anyone, really. The point is someone texted me about how much fun they had (I think), and that’s what matters. That’s what shows are all about.

-Melissa

P.S. Hi Hiba!

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Period Pants

I hate my period. When my monthly gift comes along, I’m irritable, inexplicably sad and horny all at once. I scarf down Advil in a manner that can only be compared to the method in which the Cookie Monster gobbles down treats. I get cramps so excruciating that they’ve often caused me to throw up. And when someone tries to excuse my behavior and bad mood by saying something like, “Oh, she’s just on the rag”, I get even more upset. I don’t care if all this is natural and womanly or whatever, it’s my worst time of the month, every month. Fuck that commercial; I’ve never had a happy period.

I remember the first time I got it. I’d just turned thirteen, had never been kissed and had only recently started sprouting boobs. It was summer. Because my parents never believed in air conditioning, I would sleep in a tank top and underwear. One morning, my mother came to wake me up. I wouldn’t budge, so she shook me and moved my sheets around. I told her to go away. That’s when she surprisingly asked me, “Did you shit yourself?” Um, what? I freaked out and ran to the bathroom. When I got there, I realized that it wasn’t poop; it was what I’ve grown to refer to as ‘that brown stuff you get before your period’.

When my mom realized that she’d just witnessed my first menstruation, she decided to throw me a huge congratulatory party. JK, guys. She thankfully didn’t seem to care. If I remember correctly, she brought me a pad and told me to strap it around my underwear. That was that.

Since then, I’ve noticed that you always get your period at the worst times, no matter what. If you’re having a one night stand, you’ll stain a stranger’s sheets. If you’re wearing white pants, get ready to tie a sweater around your waist.

tampOver the years, I’ve learned to deal with my period in several ways. Like I’d mentioned before, I have a medicine cabinet stocked with Advil, Anaprox, Midol and even codeine. I also have a drawer full of period undies. Boys, don’t act surprised; every girl has this. Period undies are undies you don’t care about, so it’s no big deal if they get bloodied. And they will get bloodied. It happened to me last night, actually. Going for a morning piss and noticing that you have a big stain on your underwear puts you in a horrible mood and sets the tone for the rest of the day. How big do the pads have to be? Should I just be like, “Fuck it” and wear diapers?

I have somewhat of a confession to make, actually: sometimes I sleep with a tampon in. I move around so much in my sleep, I have to! I don’t want to have to wake up and scrub blood out of my mattress, you know. I’ve been trying to cut down on it because I’m scared of getting the period disease, also known as TSS.

I’m wondering if the Diva Cup will make my period a little more bearable. I think someone should write a guest post about it. Hint, hint.

-Melissa

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Anal Answers

Note: there’s some graphic shit (sometimes literally) in here.

The first time I ever considered having anal, I was absolutely turned off. Really, the closest I had come to it was having a finger jammed up my butt by surprise during sex. I was drunk and pretended to like it.

ass-venturaMy ex used to bring it up all the time. He claimed he was just kidding, but I always suspected that deep down inside, he desperately wanted to backdoor me. We never went through with it, though. I guess I never fully trusted him. Seriously, it takes an outstanding level of trust (not necessarily commitment or love, but trust) to let someone ram it in your ass for the first time.

Years later, I met my current boyfriend. One day, we found ourselves on his couch, a little bit tipsy. We’d been dating for two or three months and were totally hot for each other. I think we were in the midst of a sloppy make out session. You know, the ones that start off with watching TV all innocently but end up in dry humping so hard that your underwear is chafing your vag. We couldn’t have sex because I was ragging it so he proposed anal. You’d figure he’d rather deal with a bloody cunt than a shitty asshole, but whatever.

So, I ran to the bathroom, took in a deep breath and shoved a soapy finger in my bum hole. It came out clean. Thank God; I could just imagine getting crap on my boyfriend’s penis after only 2 months of dating. How mortifying would that be?

The trick is to start slow. I mean, you can’t expect to slap on some lube and just shove it in. No, it’s more like chug half a bottle of cheap wine and then it’s one finger at a time until your hole gets more and more dilated (gross, I know).

After a bit more fingering, he’ll be like, “Are you ready?” That’s when, in your best pseudo-porn star voice, you whisper, “Do it.” Then you shut your eyes real tight and stop breathing for what seems like forever. Of course, that may be your initial reaction, but not breathing and clenching your muscles is actually the worst thing you can do. You need to stay calm and relaxed to allow for a smoother insertion. It wasn’t so bad for me. I didn’t bleed, but you might.

Once he’s balls deep, you’ll start feeling like you’re taking a reverse shit. You’ll immediately pull back, half expecting a turd to come sliding out. Thankfully, there should be nothing. Once he sticks it in again, it’ll be kinda hard to enjoy yourself, as the whole time you’ll be paranoid you might poop.

The experience doesn’t feel particularly good or bad. I mean, there’s a specific sensation, but I’m not sure how to describe it. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to cum from it, so to make things a little more enjoyable, I suggest having a vibrator handy.

If you don’t own a vibe and you’re fed up because anal isn’t providing you with that climax build-up you’re looking for, you can switch from ass to vag, but do it carefully. If for some reason you aren’t using a condom (which you most definitely should), he needs to wash his dick really well. If you are using a condom, he’ll need to get a new one. It might kill the moment but the last thing you want is to inadvertently get poop particles in your twat; that’ll almost surely make for a nasty infection.

So in all, I’ve done anal three times. Once, there were some brown smears on the condom. If that happens to you, don’t freak out, it’s normal. You can’t honestly expect the dick to come out clean every single time. Plus, the guy knows what he’s getting himself into and probably half-expects it. He’s sticking his dick in a shit tunnel, come on.

My advice to you is this: if you’re curious, try it. It hurts, but the pain is tolerable. Just remember to use a lot of lube, and none of that scented crap or “tingling sensation” stuff (take it from me, it burns). If you aren’t ready, don’t allow yourself to get pressured into it. Not everyone is interested in getting butt fucked (hi, Melissa), and that’s fine. Sexual limitations are personal, and you should define them at your own pace, rather than someone else’s or a porno’s.

-Maria D

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Playing Doctor

I saw my first real life penis at the tender age of 8. As soon as I glanced at it, I knew it was something I shouldn’t be looking at. His name was Louis. He was a chubby strawberry blond kid with freckles and sweaty palms and a huge Pog collection.

We were neighbours so we used to play at each other’s houses pretty often. One fine day, he decided we should play doctor. He pretended he was a trucker and that he fell out of his truck and hurt something “down there”. I was the nurse who was supposed to take care of him. He pulled down his pants and he told me to put a band aid on it. I said no. He yelled at me and told me that we were no longer friends. I came home crying and told me my mom what happened. Bad move.

Kids forget fights easily, so me and Louis were playing in our alley a few days later. It was like I had never seen his weewee in the first place until his mom told me to come over because she had a gift for me. I sat at the kitchen table, as excited as an 8 year old could be, expecting a surprise – maybe she was going to give me Louis’ sick Pog collection, who knew? I went from excited and happy to mortified and freaked out in under a minute. His mom pulled out a book about the birds and the bees along with a sex education board game! I was stunned; I just sat there in awe and disgust. I listened as she told me about how a man and a woman who love each other come together to make babies. Eductional Sex BookThere were pictures of penises, hairy vaginas, ovaries and sex. After reading the book, we played the board game. I think the object of the game was to be the first sperm to fertilize the egg. I never forgave my mother for ratting me out like that. She got away with the sex talk by having another mom do it, which was pretty low.

I stopped playing with Louis as much. Whenever I did though, I made sure to steal a few of his Pogs.  

-Maria D

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