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I've gone into heat.

I've expected, even anticipated this. It's a regular thing, coming on a monthly basis and sometimes worse in the springtime. The popular explanation is that the promise of new things growing and pushing off the shackles of winter's cold causes us to desire new life into the world, sprung from our own loins. I've looked it up, and so far in the academic world the evidence is inconclusive enough to dismiss this romantic notion, though some of my own friends have found themselves attached to it.

While I myself do not particularly hold this opinion, the raw desire to mate can most definitely be inspired by observing the mating of others. That's what pornography is for, is it not? But I digress. I had decided to use this to my advantage. With my intention of discovering the length and breadth of my sexuality, I planned to use this heat period to kickstart, if not sustain my exploration. Plans, however, are often laid to waste in the face of the real world, and mine was no different as I sought to lose my virginity.

I had a list, you see. A list of potential candidates that I could avail myself upon, people that I know well enough that I could consider using them as subjects. I know that sex isn't just a physical thing; it's emotional as well and one should take care who one sleeps with. But in the pursuit of one male that I had planned to be first, well... I got sidetracked.

Recounting the story is difficult, because I'm reliving it right now. He was a ram of some kind, a nice pair of stately, curved horns sprouting from his head. I'd been wearing the heat-dampening pads when I ran into him coming from the laundry room, and nearly knocked over the basket of clothes he was taking up to his dorm. I recognized him, though I had forgotten his name.

We knew each other, somewhat. He shared a class or two of mine, but to see him in this setting jarred me. It was probably why I didn't hear him as he offered to help me back up, and I had to shake my head to loose myself from the reverie. Even then, I felt my body calling for him as I accepted his help, his hand closing around mine as he leaned back, easily tugging me up almost as if I weighed nothing. Out of nowhere, I recalled that he was fond of mountain climbing, something his build suggested.

He'd noticed my predicament now. I saw his nose twitching, and could only imagine the reaction that my scent was stirring in him. A brief glance down confirmed the results, but we were left standing for a moment more as I waited. I couldn't let this opportunity pass up. The list lay forgotten in some corner of my mind when I pushed him by his shirt into the laundry room, closing the door behind us.

Part of me was still hesitant, amazed that I had made so forward a move, apprehensive about what was to come. That aspect kept me waiting while we stared at each other, wordless. Another kept me blocking the door; all the signal any male would need as to my desire. I still saw the hesitation in his eyes, so I threw caution to the winds and came to him, pulling him into a kiss.

The hesitation melted from his body as he took me in his arms, and the strength in them almost had me squirming then and there. Still, we kissed inexpertly for a few moments, passion supplanting the need for a proper melding of tongues. And yet, I still felt his hands not touching me, remaining on my waist, asking my permission without speaking. I remembered how nice he was in class, though there were moments that I caught him looking at my curvy form with a certain darkness and impurity. I wanted that darkness, that lust, and damn him for not giving it to me. Pulling from the kiss, I firmly grabbed one of his hands, put it under my shirt and on my breast, shivering slightly as his hand struggled to envelope it. I don't recall what I said exactly, but I was able to get my point across in no uncertain terms: I wanted him.

He squeezed; I quivered. The sounds of machines running were loud around us as I clutched to him, and he began sucking at my neck, kissing down it. My impatience was showing as I moved his other hand down between my legs, letting him feel the inferno raging there. A finger pushing into me was the sweetest thing I had felt in some time, and I gasped while pressing my body to his.

I'm not often this poetic, I think. Something about that situation seems to lend well to being romanticized, though I know that I was perhaps in the least romantic place that I could be. I won't say that I was disappointed with my first time; my heat took care of that, making me feel infinitely more sensitive to every single touch and caress he laid upon me, even as the finger pressed into my body. It also made me considerably more wonton, as I struggled to divest him of his pants at least. Maybe it was the finger within me, but my brain was occasionally enraptured, causing me to lose my focus while the ram pushed another digit to join the first.

I cried out then, with him continuing that assault on both neck and sex, thrusting at the latter while biting on the former. I grabbed around him, digging my claws into his back while he shoved me over an edge I hadn't thought to ride yet. I remember having a brief flash to a time with my new toy, only doubled. Maybe that in itself was hyperbolic, but it certainly felt like that. And that was just his fingers! I do not quite know if it was purely the heat that was making me so sensitive, but the ram pulled his fingers free, tasting them. It was too much. I scooted back against the machine and spread my legs wide, dipping two of my more slender fingers in and tasting myself. I think he got the hint, because he stepped out of his pants and forward.

Before, I had touched him and knew him to be hard, but also somewhat thicker than my toy. But now knowing that was about to push that into me... made me shiver in anticipation and not a small amount of apprehension. It was happening... really happening. I didn't get much of a chance to contemplate how it was happening before he eased himself against me, then in, and I was full in a sense I hadn't yet experienced.

Gasping aloud, I clutched to his back. He, thankfully, didn't opt to try and shove himself inside; he was gradual with his motions, slowly poking and prodding me wider while I trembled, caught somewhere within pleasure but at the edge of pain. He seemed to recognize how inexperienced that I was, and asked me over and over if I was okay. Finally, I growled at him. "Fuck me." He acted as if he didn't hear me. "FUCK ME." I told him, legs wrapping around the ram and pulling him in. I shuddered as I felt him come to a hilt, fully enveloped in me while I was thrown off into a silent orgasm. I know he felt it, as he bared his teeth. Even then, his concern for me was admirable, as he checked on me again. My voice had weakened, surfacing from that rolling wave, but I communicated as strongly as I could my desire: "Fuck me," I said again, squirming on top of the washing machine. "Please."

He obeyed.

Others have had more romantic first times, but perhaps this one suited me. I had always wanted to throw myself into things, and to be honest, part of the thrill was the possibility that we would be caught by some other soul that needed to do laundry, or saw the forgotten basket and sought to investigate. I was still somewhat restrained in my desires, panting, both of us looking toward where our bodies met in hasty fashion. I was so heated that my glasses had begun to fog slightly, but I still rode that fantastic pleasure of his strong motions in me.

At some point, my breasts were bouncing free, shirt tugged just above them. I don't know whether I had done it or it simply happened (my breasts are not small), but the motion did catch his attention. Even as I urged him onward (and he needed very little convincing), a part of me found some absurdity in all this. It seemed so reminiscent of an adult film scene, and to have this act out in real life... well, all that would be left is for him to pull out so he could ejaculate on my glasses.

I felt the rhythm that had been growing go a bit staggered now, the ram laboring even as he kept up his motions. I sensed him starting to come to a climax, so I pulled him forward right onto my chest, just wanting him close and hard and strong and... oh.

Then, as now that I write this, I seized, and my voice bubbled up to scream aloud. I kept my face buried into his neck, most of it bottled up aside of a few grunts and small screams that eked out. For his part, he shuddered and groaned, and I felt something even warmer than himself flow into me. It was exquisite.

We spent some time panting past each other, though I clung to him no less desperately. Eventually, he tugged me off the washing machine and slowly lowered me onto a chair, pulling back himself and leaving me empty. That movement of itself, with all the fluids running around us, gave me cause for another shudder. He looked up at me, then, and asked "Your name is Macie, right?"

I nodded, and blushed. Everything that I had done had come to me then, without the mask of heat. That, and the fact that I said that I didn't recall his name.

He smiled. "Alex. We share an English class together, remember?"

"I remember," I said, nodding. "I... apologize if I was too forward."

Grinning, the ram chuckled softly. "It's nothing. It's not often that a female does that, and it's refreshing, heat or no."

We made some small talk while he redressed. I had the luxury of wearing a skirt, which had only required being pulled up. The scent was... nothing I could do about now, without spending further time cleaning. He did offer me a shirt on which to wipe myself, after using another to gather our commingled fluids. Now that I think on it, I do not remember if he ever threw that into the washer. Leaning into him, I gave him my number and left, feeling exceptionally aroused still... but at a more controllable level.

Not knowing what else I was capable of doing in my aroused state, I quickly went back to my dorm and spent the next few hours having orgasms at varying volumes. There were no knocks on my door, however.

Part of me wishes there had been.