Losing my virginity by eight men

I hate to break it to you, but this story is not about me being dicked down for the first time. I lost my virginity after my first night in a gay bar, going home with the bartender. But that’s another story. I know, very cruel of me to use this headline. Even though nobody got touched, licked or penetrated in this story, it did feel like losing my virginity when I took my first steps in the lovely world of Mister B. 


A few months ago, I sent an email to Tony, the editor-in-chief of the magazine you are reading right now, and basically said, “Hey, I’m a writer, please hire me.” We met, talked, and exchanged ideas; I was so excited! And to be completely honest, so scared. I am a total newbie when it comes to fetish and kink. Yes, I have been writing openly about my sex life for a long time now – trying to experiment and (re)discover myself – but this felt like a completely different ball game.  

As confident as I could pretend to be, I acted like everything was cool and did my job, which was editing articles in first instance. If you flip to one of the last pages, you can see the WINGS team, including yours truly. After just one week working for WINGS, I got invited to the photoshoot where all these photos were being taken. “Omg fun! Would love to be there!” I responded. In reality, I kind of crapped my pants. I became nervous and anxious. Will I fit in as the newbie? Am I not too young or too vanilla? Will they judge me for not even having any leather or rubber?  

It was time for me to face my fears and just jump in the deep end: go to the studio and meet the team. The first thing that caught my eye was Marco living his best life in front of the camera, wearing this very sexy harness. The rest was there as well, all dressed in Mister B of course. I, however, was dressed in H&M: black trousers and a plain white shirt. I really should have known better because nobody wants to see any fucking H&M! Lucky for me, Tony brought some shirts for me. I also wore my ‘lucky’ palm tree necklace – it has never given me any luck but I just feel good wearing it.  

The photoshoot was in full swing; there was music, TikToks were being made, guys were trying on wigs, people were chatting, and basically just having a nice day at the office. I was surrounded by eight men and to me, these are men I look up to; they are experienced, out there, and they are unconditionally themselves in a world full of judgement. While I was still enjoying my coffee, it was time for me to get ready for my close-up. I was not sure if I could wear my necklace, so I asked Bojan, the graphic designer, and he said: “No, it has to be a cross. This is not our brand.” Obviously, he was joking, but my nerves overshadowed my ability to get that.  

Cyriel – the photographer – started working his magic on me. I really tried but I felt so uncomfortable, and it showed. “Why do I look so scared and angry?” I asked when I saw the photos. Models should pose, pose, POOOOOSE, but I just stood there like a deer in headlights. Just to be clear: this was all my doing. After a couple of dozen photos, I was finally done, and I could relax. I watched the other guys take their photos; it went from innocent schoolgirl to chastity cages, to something nude, to sex in space. And the best part, everything was so normal. No looks or giggles or anything, just people doing their jobs and having fun and feeling good. I really envied them. I hoped that one day I would be like them. 

Just as I was about to leave the studio, TikTok-wizard Frank suggested to take more photos for Mister B’s newest brand Mister Jock. I couldn’t – and deep down didn’t want to – say no; I felt at ease after spending some time with everyone. I was given this very cute pink crop top, and a fabulous fan. Somehow, I was even kind of excited to get back in front of the camera. The only thing bugging me was the fact I was still wearing those boring black trousers. And up until now I haven’t told anyone this, but underneath I was wearing Mister B Urban briefs. They were a gift, and I found them in my closet that morning. I thought, let’s just wear it and see if it comes in handy, disregarding the fact that I only was supposed to take head shots.  

Round two. I was still not a model, but I felt free. And you know why? Because these eight men gathered around and were cheering me on like I was the queen of everything. They were making sure I felt seen, loved, beautiful, and most of all, as part of the team. Looking back, I realize it was my own insecurity and most of all, prejudice, holding me back. I was confronted with both, and it felt liberating. There is more to fetishists and kinksters than outfits or hardcore sex; they have the biggest, most welcoming, open minded hearts I’ve ever seen, and I think the world can learn a lot from them. From us. As queer people, we should encourage each other and that is exactly what these eight beautiful men did: they lifted me up.

I still regret not taking off those boring trousers. I feel ashamed for hiding this part of me. And it’s such a waste because I’m really proud of my hairy ass. I hereby promise that next time I will take of my pants and make sure the photographer captures the goods. The last thing I want to say to my team is, thank you for making me feel normal, for giving me the feeling I’m good enough as I am. And thank you for making it so easy to lose my virginity. It definitely went a lot smoother than the bartender trying to fuck me in the ass thirteen years ago. 

Matthijs is a 31-year-old Dutch writer living in Amsterdam. He is queer, proud, and new to the fetish and kink scene. Next to content editing, he loves nothing more than writing openly about his sexuality, even if it is shameful or taboo. Follow his adventures on Instagram @matthijsvanels. 

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