The prompt for Wicked Wednesday, this week, is Virginity.
I had sex for the first time at the age of 17, with my first ‘proper’ boyfriend, who was 21. He was a giant of a lad, who was 6’5″ and 20 stone, and played amateur rugby. I was a painfully shy and timid person at that age; I still am shy to some extent, but nothing like the person I was back then.
We had been going out for a few months before we had sex. He was very restrained from what I recall and apart from some groping and one attempt to put his hand in my knickers, we had not gone any further. However, I had started taking the pill in anticipation of the big event. He told me that he had never had sex with anyone else before, but I was always doubtful about that, as he was definitely a typical rugby player and a bit of a ‘lad’. Although, with me, he was always a gentle giant.
We were in his bedroom at his mum and dad’s house one Sunday afternoon, when I suddenly decided that today was going to be the day. ‘Make love to me’, I declared boldly. I recall that statement quite vividly. So he did what I asked. I think there was very little foreplay, as I certainly was not wet and it was painful as he struggled to enter me. I remember wondering when the fireworks and amazing sensations were going to start. They never came, but he did. Quite quickly. It was all quite an anti-climax. I had been building up to this moment for so long, imagining all sorts of wonderful pleasures. I felt cheated somehow and was left wondering what all the fuss about sex was. This feeling was made worse by me not being too thrilled about the mess left afterwards, either.
I was quite naive about sex back then. Sex education at home and at school had consisted of a brief description of how sex was a functional process for making babies. I knew, of course, from the media and listening to others, that it was also to be enjoyed, but I didn’t know anything about getting aroused beforehand. I thought that the magic ‘just happened’.
I was shortly to realise how pleasurable other forms of sex could be though. I can’t remember whether it was on the same day, or on another occasion, but he introduced me to the delights of oral sex. Being naive, I thought that sex only happened when a man was on top of a woman. It was a complete revelation to me that anyone would use their mouth for sexual pleasure. But, I was overwhelmed with how good it felt and it was only a few days afterwards that I realised the sensations experienced were me being brought to orgasm with his tongue. After that, neither of us could get enough of oral sex. He loved going down on me as much as I enjoyed him doing it. I recall him being quite intrigued with how incredibly wet it made me.
Sadly, I have never encountered any further partners who were as willing and skilled with their tongue, or had the same ability to make me feel sexy and desired. Maybe, as an innocent 17-year-old, I was more relaxed. I didn’t have body confidence issues then and, surprisingly, for one so timid, I had no inhibitions in talking about sex with him and never felt self-conscious, as I knew his desire for my body and to pleasure me was genuine.
We felt incredibly grown-up when we bought the ‘Joy of Sex’ and its sequel and spent many happy hours experimenting with its various suggestions.My curiosity around sex was certainly awakened, and I realised that I had an exhibitionist streak, which he actively encouraged.
We went out for two years before, inevitably, the desire and sex waned. The relationship ended when I started my first full-time job and discovered what else life had to offer. But, I have always had a penchant for tall and well-built men ever since.
See the other Wicked Wednesday tales here.