I Lied About Losing My Virginity
Every man remembers his first titty. My first happened in the woods by my house during seventh-grade. I felt confident due to the new badass Nirvana T-shirt I wore under my flannel shirt.
The breast belonged to Mona, a sultry Mexicana, who looked like a Fly Girl dancer on “In Living Color.” Paler than the rest of her coffee skin, her breasts glowed angelically. They were the size of grapefruits. Sadly, like grapefruits, they were bittersweet. Mona moved away the next week and didn’t even say goodbye.
The first day back school, I looked at my friends gathered around our lunch table and blurted out, “Mona and I did it over break.”
Click here to read the entire story and my recent interview about Mona’s recollection.