The Virginity Project

The Virginity Project is fielding another media request. Drop me a line if you think this could be you. A reputable leading teen magazine is looking to interview young women about virginity loss. They are specifically interested in stories from girls - up to the age of 18 - who lost their virginity whilst under the influence of alcohol. In an ideal world, they are looking for someone who would waive their anonymity but its not a deal-breaker. If you have an experience that you would like to share, please drop me a line and I will pass you on: katemonroe@yahoo.com

Are you being served?

Today’s story is a showstopper. It also highlights a shadowy area of intrigue for some of us…what men get up to when left to their own devices. We have all heard the tales about boy’s boarding schools and whilst I am not accusing every man I ever met of being secretly gay, I do think that most men are a lot less hung up on the idea of ‘being gay’ than they let on. I also think its got nothing to do with being gay and everything to do with making the most of whatever opportunities come your way.

Some years ago I took a detour into restaurant management. The restaurant was populated by the gayest (and loveliest) collection of male waiting staff you have ever encountered. The kitchen was where the straight guys hid. Big, beefy macho men who could take the punishing pace and crippling heat of a Saturday night restaurant service. Well, you might think that east is east, west is west and never the twain shall meet but that wasn’t the case in the restaurant that I worked in. It wasn’t just that we were the culinary equivalent of the United Nations, i.e. all departments loved to party together regardless of our differing roles, genders, sexualities and religions. No, there was partying of quite a different kind going on between some of the straightest, manliest chefs I have ever encountered and some of the most homosexual waiters. Strictly behind closed kitchen doors you understand. I only know all this because I had the ‘ears’ of the gay waiting staff. This wasn’t a one off either, it happened a lot.

I remember being surprised at the time but I am not now. Men understand each other. They understand each other’s needs and to that end, they can make simple physical transactions with each other that have fewer emotional repercussions than their heterosexual equivalents. Women are hardwired to involve feelings. Sometimes it’s easier to leave us out of the equation.

‘I prefer the company of and sex with women but enjoy the frisson of possible discovery involved in homosexual activity. I don't regard myself as a gay man; I'm not sure where I stand on the sexual continuum.  I suppose I am about 10% gay and 90% straight.’ 

So says today's story teller. Sexual orientation is not a black and white matter and it never has been. Today’s story teller is totally down with that.

‘I am a 68yr old man, born in the UK where I still live.

I was educated at public school and this seems to have bred into me a subsequent tolerance of the breadth of sexual desire. I was 16 or 17 when I lost my virginity. I was at boarding-school and living in one of seven houses, where we ate, slept and entertained ourselves.  Among the staff was a young woman who was employed as a maid in the kitchen and the dining-room.  She was a pleasant, friendly lass, well-built with large breasts and bottom.

I think it was in May 1959, the summer term and I walked through from the boys' end of the house, past the kitchen towards the cellars where the craft and other rooms were.  What I had intended to do there, I haven't a clue.

As I approached the door to the cellar steps, I bumped into Jesse.  I cannot remember from this distance in time what was said nor how it was that we came to be kissing.  I can remember that she had full lips and that when ours met I lost all sense of place and time.  I think it was at that point that I stuck my hand up under her overall and into her pants.  

We made a tacit decision to go down to the cellar, where we shut ourselves into a vegetable store room.  We continued kissing and I put my hand inside her bra to feel a breast which was large and soft. She took off her pants and lay down on the floor;  I'm not sure if I took down my shorts (yes, it was that kind of school!) or simply unleashed my erection from the fly.  I lay down on top of her and my cock entered her very easily. She was soft, wet and roomy but unlike anything I had ever felt in my life - blissful.  However much I was enjoying it, the sensation did not, sadly, affect the enthusiasm of a young man's first time and the excitement ensured that the performance was all too brief.  I had just relaxed on top of Jesse, when we heard familiar footsteps coming down the stairs.  

My housemaster!  His steel-tipped heels clicked their way along the stone-flagged passage outside our door. Jesse and I did not breathe. Our already-raised heart rates must have doubled as we lay, terror-stricken. The footsteps continued and on into the craft-room next door.  They did not stay there long before retracing their way back up the stairs.  Silently praising providence that he had not wanted a vegetable, we gave him a decent time to return to his quarters, hastily adjusted our clothes and went back upstairs.  I kissed Jesse good-bye and, knees trembling, went back to daily life.  Jesse will always have a warm place in my heart and I shall be for ever grateful to her for the pleasure I had in giving her my virginity.

During my time at prep and public school, being a male with a very healthy sexual appetite, I did become involved with other boys in mutual masturbation but never experienced anal sex.  I was in my 40s in the mid-1980s before I started to explore an interest in sex with men.  I had read stories of the infamous New York bath-houses and learned that there was a Turkish bath and sauna in the neighbouring city.  On my first visit it became clear that it was a hot-bed of homoerotic activity.  There was a steam-room, and three sauna areas of varying temperatures from mild to very hot.  In those days, men would walk around naked and sexual activity was common almost anywhere.  I had a number of pleasant experiences there and met someone with whom I shared other sexual moments over a good number of years.

However, my experience of anal sex took place in a well-know male 'cruising ground' in woods north of the city.  One way of soliciting attention is to single out a likely candidate (and they're quite obvious), to stop and have a pee, making your intentions clear by displaying your cock to the subject.  On this occasion, a short, bald well-built man responded by producing his cock but remarking that he knew a better place to go and suggesting I follow him.  We returned to our cars and drove a mile or so to another area of the woods where I followed him into the trees for a distance until we were sheltered from gaze.  I asked him what he liked (a stock phrase of the male cruiser), to which he replied that he liked to be fucked.  I was happy to oblige. 

We dropped our trousers and I gave his cock a cursory fondle before turning him round.  He had a muscular bum, smooth  and lightly covered with dark hair.  He gave me a condom, which I put on and he bent over to receive me.  I place my cock at the entrance to his anus and pushed, a bit too sharply, because he complained.  I took more time and let him absorb my cock until I was fully inside him and started to slide in and out.  His passage was tight and smooth and felt wonderful and the condom ensured that I could enjoy a decent ride before shooting my load.  As is usual in these circumstances, we parted with a mutual pat on the backside.

Having fucked a man, I developed a curiosity as to what it felt like to be fucked.  One evening, some years later, I was cruising in woods nearer home, where I met a man who was similarly inclined.  We withdrew to a secluded spot, where we got out our cocks and indulged in mutual stroking, sucking, bottom-stroking and hole-fingering.  He asked if I was up to be fucked.  I had another look at his cock which was uncut (my favourite!) and, although not small, was, I hoped, of an acceptable size, so I agreed.  He put on a condom and I anointed his cock and my anus with KY and bent over to receive him.  His cock felt large as it entered and its passage through my sphincter while uncomfortable, was not unduly painful. 

He shafted me enthusiastically for a few minutes before he came.  It did not feel 'natural', which of course it isn't and it did not feel, judging by this experience, to be a past-time I wanted to pursue, although I have succumbed occasionally since.  I am now a subscriber to the Julian Clary philosophy that it is better to give than to receive, though, in fact, having recently received a clean sexual bill of health, I now abstain from anal sex and fellatio but I do not resist the occasional 'feel'.  I don't know if you are aware of the seemingly huge number of men who seek out this kind of experience before returning to their partners but it appears to be prevalent wherever one goes.  

So there you are, dear Kate, three virginitie for the price of one.  I am glad I was not the subject of the rogering administered by the female banker's dildo to her husband.’ 

Love is contagious...

Today’s story comes in two parts. The first, the loss of virginity with the sweet boyfriend, the second, the discovery of potential boyfriend number 2. Marred only by the fact that boyfriend number two lives on the Pacific Islands, some distance from our storyteller in Australia. What can I say about today’s story? It reminds me of being young, of feeling that crazy heart-in-your-mouth feeling about a potential new love, even if you know next to nothing about him. Because one finds as time moves on, that conversation and humour are just as important as raw animal attraction, if not more so. Excitement is just that: excitement. But it’s not a sustainable way to feel. On a practical day-to-day level, if we felt excited all the time, it would lose its, well, excitement. There has to be something more to keep the motor running.

I think its tough being young these days and I count myself in that bracket even though I have reached the big four oh because I am still part of the post pill generation and for that reason, none of us need to commit. As women, we no longer need men to support us and the institution of marriage is largely obsolete unless you have children. We are free to move onto the next big thing the moment that things start to get tricky. Our parents would have tried harder to make things work because they had to. Our generation have very little motivation to stick it out. Not that I am suggesting Emma should marry boyfriend number one, or even potential boyfriend number 2. There’s no point staying with someone you don’t fancy (bf number one), and bf number two sounds lovely but they don’t speak the same language – cute and charming at first, quickly tedious  -  but somewhere in this equation, there has to be compromise between the values of the old guard and our new throwaway society. I haven’t quite worked out what that is yet but I do know that if you find it, hang onto it. It’s rare.

Emma from Australia. Born in 1991, lost virginity aged 19.

‘I had never understood the 'sacredness' of sex. I'd masturbated since I was 5 and constantly thought about it, however when I was 12 and my best friend practically tried to thrust himself inside of me I realised that it was perhaps a little bit important. My friends began having sex around the ages of 13 and 14, I did not. I quickly became the odd one out in terms of sexual promiscuity. However, late at night, on the bus, in a mathematics class or at dinner at my Great-Grandparents home, I longed to be entwined with someone, my hands stroking their budding breasts or their hard penis deep within me. Nothing romantic of course (oh, how I detested romanticism), just rough erotic fantasies (I'm glad I wasn't born a boy, with that utter misfortune of letting everyone know when you are 'turned-on'). 

So there I was, dreaming away, growing older and being so caught up in my self-esteem issues (oh my god, I have flaps - how one can be so insecure about their vagina is ridiculous - and black curly bushy pubic hair, how could I!) that I never actually played out one of those erotic fantasies of mine until I was 17. I'd met a sweet boy while on holidays at my aunt's house and I didn't really like him very much. In fact, I'd forgotten all about him until one day (a few months later) when we came to contact with each other via the internet and began writing tremendously long emails to one another which then developed into a ridiculous amount of plane trips interstate and a long distance relationship which lasted for a year before I moved to his city to study. 

It was four months into the whole thing before one night we were fondling around on his make-shift bed on the floor (so that we could both fit) when we took each others pants off and it happened. Poor boy, he was so insecure about his small penis that he couldn't get it up and I partially lost interest. But it happened and I was left thinking, 'ok, so that's it'. All in all, it was sweet and funny. That was my first heterosexual experience, however I'd really like to fill my desire and make love with a beautiful girl. 

Oh, and I watched a insightful documentary the other week called 'The Perfect Vagina'. It certainly cleared up any of my remaining insecurities surrounding my vagina.’ 

Emma followed up with this email shortly after:

‘Can I include a sequel? I'd like to share it because the whole experience really feels like an opening to a new phase of me.  

My current boyfriend (whom I lost my virginity to - the previous email) and fell out of love with a while ago. My love fled about 8/9 months after being together (about 4 months or so after doing the deed). Goodbye euphoric first love feelings. Since that feeling went I've cheated on him about 5 times. I told him every time (except once, a kiss to a mutual friend. Oh dear.), and I tried to talk him into having an open relationship, but he didn't want a bar of it. 

This last time however really was the tip of my sexual iceberg. I was holidaying in the Pacific Islands last week when I managed to fall in love (perhaps that word has been misconstrued here, I'm talking of holiday love, where you come home with too many souvenirs, suntanned and considerably heartbroken. I still haven't made up my mind if it is love... as in LOVE) with a handsome, funny, sexy, cool, sweet, beautiful, lovely island sailor. 

How I yearned for him. My heart began doing 60's jive dancing as soon as I saw him. I fantasised about him constantly and tried to control my sexual urges as I walked passed him every morning. I told no one, and I continued smiling when my mother bragged to people about how amazing my boyfriend is and how she wishes he were her boyfriend instead. My loveless yet sweet and friendly relationship back at home......then on the last day this sailor told me, in broken English, how when he first saw me his heart did back-flips and his mind goes crazy every time he sees me. The last day! Why on earth did one of us not share with each other this vital information when it first happened? 

The night unfolded in a series of events closely starting with him asking to 'try my lips'. It was the most magnificent night. So amazingly incredible and liberating. Which isn't just the 'newness' and excitement of that night but also the love and adoration. Or it could all have been a lie, another one night stand for a sailor. But, I truly believe (am I sounding rather naive here?) that it was not. He said that I was only the second girl that he'd been with, and he was my second man that I'd been with. I've cried every day since I've returned home. 

However, the experience really helped spell out to me what my relationship doesn't have any more and made me realise that although I love my boyfriend, it is as a friend and nothing more. There is no attraction, just an empty cup. Now, I lay in bed with the man I care for with all of my heart and I dream of the man I love who is a thousand miles away, who lives a completely different life to mine. Love is so utterly confusing.’

You're a what?

From time to time I get a story from someone who waited an age to lose their virginity that is so good that I think to myself, ‘that probably was worth the wait’. Today’s story is one of those.

The last one I got like this was from 29 year old Daniel who was, in his own words, ‘a decent-enough looking guy; I'm not crazy or weird in a way that makes people run away’ but ‘ I just turned twenty-nine and somehow, I am still a virgin.’

Six months later, Daniel wrote to me again to tell me that he had finally lost his virginity to ‘a female friend who I had always thought was stunning but out of my league.’  What really made his story stand out was that afterwards - and bearing in mind the fact that the woman in question was about to move overseas on a permanent basis - she decided to leave Daniel a little present. She decided to teach him everything that she knew about sex before she left. A bit like a sex angel.

I know all this because I had to ask Daniel how his partner in crime had felt about deflowering a 29-year-old man in the first place so he asked her to email me and tell me herself. She did just that and this is what she wrote:

‘After he told me I was in a state of shock. I think the best image is to liken me to a goldfish. Not much sentence making was going on but I realized he had chosen to tell me so I said it was all fine even though inside I panicked a bit. Afterwards, I went to work and thoughts started flashing through my mind like why me? I don't have anything good to offer! I don't want to corrupt him. I'm not good enough for this role. Then I just decided that it was just meant to be, for whatever reason he had chosen me and so I decided to take him under my wing and find ways to make it fun but educational.

We explored what he liked and then he explored what I liked but I always made sure that he got to try everything he fancied and I got to do the same. When I met Dan I had just come out of a long-term relationship and you fall into habits and we had stopped exploring so it was great to meet someone who I felt comfortable with that I could explore and reconnect those feelings of desire without feeling judged or embarrassed. It was as much learning for me as I think it was for him. But it was also fun and I believe everything should have an element of fun or positivity to it or why bother! It brings a smile to my face knowing that he will at least be going out there with a few tools that he can develop and have fun with.’

Which all goes to re-enforce the idea in my head that some things are worth waiting for. It’s hard to wait. It takes strength of character, as today’s story teller today will tell you, not to go out and grab the first random and be done with it. Most of us feel so stigmatized by virginity that we do just that. (I am holding my hand up as I write this). And whilst sleeping with inappropriate people in a bid to rid ourselves of virginity is all part of the growing up process, the soppy old romantic in me couldn’t help loving this story.

‘…it happened, in the comfort of my own bed, with this adorable guy that loved my body and my mind, who wanted only what was best for me….’

How could you not love that?

Angeline from Belgium. Lost virginity two years ago, aged 34.

If a more or less 'normal' age to lose your virginity is 17 years old, I waited double that time. Well, waited is somehow not the right choice of words. I did want sex, but it to be with a guy I at least liked, not just for the sake of it. This, together with a real talent for falling for unreachable guys (either gay or completely out of my league or too shy to make a move themselves) and being and feeling too big, made for a great mix. So my teens and my twenty-something years passed and despite a really active life and a big group of friends, nothing happened. I didn't even get kissed!

This was, of course, subject to a lot of late night talks because it was no secret to my close friends. What was wrong with me? How come everybody else seems to at least have been kissed? Was I too picky? Would anything change if I lost weight?

I did, in the end. In a span of 3 to 4 years I lost weight, I changed my hairstyle from cropped and rather manly to shoulder length and curly and I started wearing more female and colorful clothes. And I must say, I did feel better about myself.

I tried out dating sites but still no kisses. No sex either. I did meet new men, that I must say. Some were great, but not free or not interested, some were silly, some were interested but missing somehow (intelligence, humor, character). I read a lot too. On sex, more specifically on the technicity of it. How does it happen? How to give a blowjob? What possible variations?

I became quite an expert, but only in my mind. A strange combination, as if I was not strange enough already. I was a spinster in this spinsterless new millennium. And then, all of a sudden, I was 31 and on a birthday party and I kissed. Nothing special to a lot of people, but it rocked my world for sure. In the end, it turned out we both wanted very different things (I a relationship, he anything but), so nothing more happened, but it showed me it was possible for a guy to be attracted to me.

I continued looking. Friends gave me all sorts of advice. The hardest one being the one to stop looking and let things happen. I tried this long and hard, but found that it was something I could not do. So I continued to look on sites, gathering a bunch of very entertaining stories for friends on everything that could possibly go wrong on a date. I learned to read between the lines, to see the things that weren't said in the profiles, but I did not find the one.

And then, on an unsuspicious evening, I went to a restaurant. We were four, a good friend of mine, her neighbour and a friend of hers. And we lamented our pitiful lives, devoid of men, even though we were all four of us interesting, good-looking women. It was a nice evening, but I forgot it almost as quick as it was over. The friend of the neighbour didn't, though, because she felt I would be right for her brother Jean. So she started talking about me to him, but he wouldn't hear from it. So for 10 long months, she talked to him until he gave in and she gave him my number.

We went to dinner and it turned out she was so right it was frightening. We had a very entertaining evening and promised to meet again. A week later, Jean and I ate lunch together and later that day, he came over to my place to have dinner. And we kissed. By then, I had already told him, a veteran in sex, that I was a 34-year-old virgin and he didn't run away screaming. A relief, I can tell you.

So we kissed, and kissed and kissed. I had a lot of kissing to catch up with. But I wanted more then kissing, and so did he, so we moved to my bedroom. We didn't sleep a lot that night, nor the following day and night, but somehow I did not have sex (that is, if I follow the definition given by Bill Clinton). I was so tense about the whole thing, and so much was happening in such a short time, that I completely cramped up. And Jean was afraid of hurting me, so we had pleasurable days and nights, we explored each others bodies (I was, and still am, fascinated by his penis, it is an amazing part of his body), I could finally practice a lot of the stuff I read about before (he did adore and still adores my 'dirty' mind), we laughed, kissed, stroked, sucked and enjoyed each other until we fell asleep and then we woke each other up again to continue.

It took 14 days and 14 very entertaining nights to finally get there. It had become something of an issue by then. Why was something so natural, that apparently the biggest morons could do, not possible for me?  The fact that I was so focused on finally losing my virginity did not help in the slightest. Again, I was worried that something was wrong with me. I got rather pushy, almost commanding him to thrust his penis in me, regardless of the pain, but he held his ground, wanting for me to be relaxed and to enjoy it as much as possible.

Finally, on the first of September (the first day of school in Belgium after the summer holidays, so somehow quite symbolic), it happened, in the comfort of my own bed, with this adorable guy that loved my body and my mind, who wanted only what was best for me. Most of all, who I trusted enough to give up the urge of controlling everything. Of all possible scenarios, and I made a lot of them, this was heaven. Okay, so there were no falling stars, no fire works or angel choirs singing, but instead a short sigh because of the sharp pain, soon overtaken by a feeling of pleasure, mixed with lust, love, gratitude and longing for more. Which we did and still do two years down the road.

In all the time before V-Day, I often considered going to a bar, pick up a random guy that was moderately good looking or interesting, drink enough not to care and get it over with. Or ask a good friend to do me this favor. I even considered hiring a gigolo, because at least that would give me a lot of control. Luckily, for every pro there was a contra, so I didn't. I waited, not because of a religion (I'm an atheist) and somehow I'm glad I did. Because in the end it turned out I did not only want to be deflowered, I wanted to find this great guy to share my life with.

By the way, the sex is divine. It's still getting better, 2 years down the road. And the funny thing is, all the reading paid off. Although my boyfriend had quite a few satisfying sexual relationships, we discovered a lot of fun stuff that he hadn't tried before. Oh and he doesn't mind at all that I have a lot of sex to catch up with.

There you have it. This is my story. A bit unusual perhaps, but a story with a happy ending.'