Deflowering Rachel by Anna Galperin A seventeen-year-old girl exists somewhere. She is kind and beautiful, she is caring and kind, she is kind and sweet. She is a virgin, but not for long. This is the summer of love and lust, of cherry picking and cherry popping, the summer of...sex...or so she hopes. She is the kind of girl a boy would be proud to show to his mother, loudly proclaiming, “look Mom, we fuck!” Too bad the one she wishes would say those magical words lives two counties over. They are destined to never be together, except at camp. I am the seventeen-year-old, a crisp and clean virgin. This was my last summer before the end of childhood. My innocence was to be lost at my first kegger, but before that in high school I was just mousy little Rachel Rabinowitz. Except at camp, where I was Rosy Rachel the Rottweiler (because I once got hospitalized for sun poisoning and also gave very good blowjobs). As a 2 in the city and a 12 in Hancock, there was a lot to look forward to on the ride into the center of bumfuck nowhere. Last year, I didn’t even know what a rusty trombone WAS! This year, I was ready to give one. I still wanted my first time to be special though, and after talking to Allen for a whole 365 days online I knew he was the one. He wanted to study economics and finance, and he watched the Yankees and “The Office.” And he loved dogs! How unique and unironically charming! And those green eyes! I had ogled at his Facebook and Instagram pictures all year, and now I got to see him in person again. I craved to know him in a deeper, more biblical way. The sex way, to be clear. That’s clear, right? The first few days were filled with crafts and dreams of Allen’s cock. This camp, like many camps, was full of tiny innocent children, and for their sake I stayed both my mouth and my loins. But my romantic drive had only grown stronger. Sometimes, we would catch eyes and a fire would burn through my loins, aching for sweet release. Then it dawned on me. I am 5’1 and 100 pounds soaking wet… Allen is 6’2 and a high school athlete… how will his probably ten-inch-donger squeeze inside my tiny little tea cup?! Could my princess parts handle my prospective daddy’s prodigious ding-dong-doowop? This princess forgot to consider the logistics and the geometry of the situation. I had always strayed from even getting finger-banged, and now I had set myself up for an E.R. visit because the most perfect boy on Planet Earth was sooooo well endowed. How would I
recover? Ima and Abba would be so proud of me, just like Yahweh, but I’d need to go home and into intensive physical rehabilitation immediately after. What a waste of a summer that would be. And what if I’d never be able to have sex again?! How am I to be the vessel for the remainder of the Jewish race then?! How will I fulfill my role as a Jewish woman?! That night, Allen texted me a beautiful word - ‘hey,’ followed by three lovely letters: ‘wyd.’ And I was infatuated yet again. I needed him to rip my body open and eat me like a Jeffrey Dahmer full course meal. Mmm.
The next day, Allen touched me for the first time. All the first year counselors were playing spin the bottle, and as if through an act of G-d, it landed on us! I was ready to skip the smooch entirely and give his weendog a little kiss from this Rottweiler’s mouth. I threw my tiny body onto him and... Our mouths collided! His tongue weaseled into my mouth and my tongue slithered into his. Saliva was dripping down our chins. Like a lot. It looked like we had both gone swimming but it didn’t matter. We licked each other’s teeth, and I felt his massive boongalong become even more massive. So massive. What the fuck. I have held and sucked on many a pingpong in my tenure as a camper, but never something of such insane dimensions. I put my fingers to it and it pulsed…and I backed away. I stared at that package in shock as everyone at the bonfire clapped their hands. My friend Liz leaned over to me when I sat back down and said, “Rachel he is so large, you should keep your chummy unmanicured hands off of him for your own sake.” The other counselors nodded their heads in unison. Their warning threw me, but I couldn’t resist! Later that night we met again and in our journey for sexual horniness, finally derobed. He dropped his shorts and there it was. A shiny, beautiful, pulsating...fake electronic penis. Excuse me? “Uhh...what’s that?” I asked, definitely not prepared for this curveball life had thrown me. Allen’s doughy face fell. “I pack up… I thought you’d get it” “…” “I have a micropenis…you’re so kind and beautiful, caring and kind, kind and sweet, I thought you’d be cool with this. Also, it’s really small which is good for you. Because you’re small. And anyway, it’s not the size of the boat, it’s the motion of the ocean, you know?” I stood in silence, processing the sheer teeny tininess of that mini-peeper. I was not swayed, although I was a little less turned on. We had sex, I guess… my hymen didn’t break that night, but boy did it with Elan about six days later. He was a year two counselor, comp sci, poli sci, psy sci triple major at Penn, 5’6, a pianist, and had a wang as big as Allen’s fake one. It did turn out to be the summer of sex: 69ing, doggy styling, swashbuckling, back handspring hockey putting, and rusty tromboning. And I still can’t even play the trombone!
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