After a failed first attempt at having sex, which you can read more about here, this gullible girl set out to enjoy the forbidden fruit. Why do grownups refer to sex as forbidden fruit? But I digress. Peter had set my sexual being wanted ever since our passionate kiss and awkward intimacy was rudely interrupted by his friend the last time we met.

Ever heard of young women discussing sex from the porn they watched and wishing they were a pornstar? That was what I wanted. Well, truth be told, I wanted the sex appeal of being a pornstar. I wanted to have the sexual power to do whatever I wanted with no fear: the power to hold a man down in a way that they would never let go; the power to be naked without shame of my body due to the dark spots I had because of the side effects from my HIV medication. I wanted that feeling so bad, and often wondered if, by being HIV positive, I was even allowed to want all that?

I wanted to have the sexual power to do whatever I wanted with no fear.

I was, after all, a vector of disease. Every message about sexual health I heard or read indicated so. But the body wants what the body wants, right? Sexual power is what I wanted, and nothing could stop me. In retrospect though, had I gotten some form of sexual guidance, then maybe I would have made a different decision to delay my first sexual debut.

This was the most unreasonable decision I had ever made at that age—wanting to have sexual powers just because I was HIV positive. I look back on my first date with Peter, when we almost had sex, and I ask myself a lot of questions: What if I ended up infecting Peter? What if I ended up getting another HIV strain? What if Peter found out about my status and went bonkers? What if I died for real? Many “what if’s” that did not matter then, nor were not part of my worry at the time.

Our second date, which happened not too long after our first, was planned. But still, it was not what I would call a proper date. To me, a proper date involves lunch or dinner, preferably somewhere quiet and serene, where conversations lead to knowing each other better.

Back then, our second date was in the club.

We met at some joint in town. The music was loud, our conversations were really shouting matches, and we both had a couple of drinks. This was not the first time I had drunk alcohol or visited this joint. I was familiar with the surrounding and I knew what I was doing. At this point, I was sure I wanted to be more than a friend to Peter; I wanted to be the person he would call a girlfriend.

Peter and I had our fair share of fun that evening, dancing and celebrating life. It was almost as if, for a short while, HIV did not exist. And in that frenzied moment, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I said yes!! Thinking of it now, it seems like it was a wedding proposal—stupid me!

Peter had been handing me lots of alcohol: looking back, his plan was evident. Many guys use alcohol to lure ladies to have sex; heck, nowadays, women do the same! Alcohol can lower one’s inhibitions, making it easier to say yes and harder to say no.

This comes with dangers society doesn’t talk about: beyond increasing the risk of acquiring HIV, alcohol can blur the boundaries of passive and active consent, which should involve affirmative, deliberate, sober, and ongoing agreement to participate in sexual activity.

We were hypnotized by young love—first love!

Don’t get me wrong: I wanted Peter and was excited for what was coming next. But like many young girls on the African content, and around the world, I wasn’t entirely informed about sex. My decisions at the time were emotional, not logical: I was young and enraptured by this man, a man who loved and cared for me. We were both too inexperienced to know what we were doing. We were hypnotized by young love—first love!

We hit the road, staggering to the bus stop. I just wished for a bed and my boyfriend there with me. We got into the bus and I shut down, commissioned to sleep, tired of all the dancing and grinding from the club. We finally got home and passed out.

In the middle of the night, we both woke up and, for a second, I thought I was dreaming. As I lay there on his bed, my drunk laden mind wanted to shout with exhilaration. He too was desirous of having me next to him. Before I knew it, Peter was on top of me, ripping my clothes off my body. I felt wanted. I felt powerful.

My whole body was shaking from the excitement, my sexual need too evident for him to see. He knew I wanted him so bad. My clitoris danced, my eyes twitched from the intense feeling, I was half awake, he swirled his tongue around my clitoris, talk of him taking his time on it, the feeling down there was one I had never felt before, soaking wet I whispered between my breaths “get a condom” ready to lose all my innocence. He headed for it and before I could say his name, he was inside me. I gasped and let my moan out, taken away by Peter and the effects of his body on mine.

I clung onto him as he pounded harder, I got lost in the feeling of my own intense passion and the last thing I remember was Peter having a ‘seizure kinda moment’. Oh boy! Wait! That was porn right there.

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Join the conversation. Share your thoughts below in the comments section. Are there any parts of your first sexual experience that are memorable or that you wish you could change?