I was going to call today’s entry ‘A Gothic Tale’, playing as it does with dark themes. And who doesn’t like a dark gothic tale at this time of the year when the days are short and staying indoors seems like the only sensible response to such extreme weather? But its Christmas Day and luckily, what begins as a horror story soon segues onto much happier territory.
As it does, our writer also talks about something that – surprisingly – we have never really discussed on this blog: the experience of ‘taking’ someone else’s virginity. Traditionally speaking, the taking of virginity would be an act performed by a man but today, in so many different ways, the tables have turned.
I won’t say anything else. Quite apart from anything, I am about to go and cook Christmas lunch for 12 people but needless to say, all IS well that ends well. Happy Christmas one and all!
‘Hi Kate. I'm female, I was born in 1991 in London, England, and I have two stories to tell you. I'd like to share this first story because it's quite painful for me to remember and it'd be nice to get it out there, rather than keeping it to myself so much.
When I was 14 and my hormones were raging, I found myself making friends with a boy in the year above me at school - Tommy. He was tall, dark, handsome, and completely fascinating (at the time). He was flirty and charming and slightly gothic, with dyed black hair. Being an angsty teenager, I had already developed an intense jealousy of his female friends so I did my utmost to become one of them in order to get closer to him.
I'd never had a real boyfriend before, just some snogging and brief, sloppy oral with someone else a few months previously and Tommy appeared to be everything I wanted. He also became friends with my best friend Martha around the same time but I'll come back to that. Things developed, and we began to engage sexually on spare afternoons. I became more and more obsessed with him, especially when I noticed that he and Martha were getting on remarkably well; unfortunately, I began to suffer from mild depression and started to self harm on occasions, but I refused offers of help from the infirmary at school and continued to engage with Tommy, even though I knew it'd hurt me.
In December, when I had turned 15, I invited myself to a stranger's party through a friend (Edie, who is gay), which Tommy was attending. The party went as one would expect, but the next day, Edie, Tommy and I decided to go back to her house to get some sleep before the journey back to our respective houses. Because the walk back to Edie's house had been so cold, we decided to get into her double bed to warm up and watch a film; Tommy lay between me and Edie. Edie took off her bra to be more comfortable, but left her t-shirt on, I pulled off my t-shirt and Tommy pulled off his own, and then undid my bra. Edie pulled me towards her, so that I was in the middle and I kissed her. She caressed me and I moved down to tongue her nipples, which Tommy took as his cue to put his hand down my jeans. Edie took my hand and put it in her knickers once she had realised what Tommy was doing. He decided to lie in the middle, and I got on top of him and continued to kiss and fondle Edie. Gradually I started paying less attention to Edie, because, of course, I was infatuated with Tommy.
Eventually he made it clear that he wanted to have sex with me, and I took off both of our pairs of jeans and underwear, put a condom on him and attempted to allow him to penetrate me from beneath, but I was too tight and couldn't manage it. Edie, understandably, left the room. We switched into the missionary position, and I remember thinking, as he penetrated me, 'So that's it, I've lost my virginity.' It hurt: of course, his penis was far larger than anything I'd previously had inside me, and my head was banging against the headboard with each thrust. He didn't seem particularly interested, but I tried my best to enjoy it and make it enjoyable for him. Sooner or later, he came and rested his head on my chest. A week or so afterwards, Edie invited me to her house by myself (it was obvious why she wanted me there), and although I considered myself straight at the time, I went along with it and had my first lesbian experience. That's not too relevant, though, as I didn't consider myself a virgin any longer.
It wasn't until a few weeks later, when I was shocked and hurt that Tommy didn't want more to do with me, that I found out that he had had sex with someone else, a friend of Edie's, on the very same day that he had taken my virginity. As you might imagine, I was extremely hurt by this, and even more so when Tommy began a relationship with Martha, my best friend, whose virginity he had taken a few weeks before my own. I had no idea they were involved like that, and couldn't believe that my best friend could betray me that way. This was the beginning of a long and difficult period of depression for me. I started self-harming several times a day and was forced to go to the local mental health clinic by the school infirmary. After many months, during which I still had sex with Tommy, Martha and I made up, and I began to recover. Now, Martha is by far my closest friend, and I'm good friends with Tommy, and although I doubtlessly became closer to Martha than I ever would have had this not happened, I regret the circumstances in which I lost my virginity more than anything else.
This second story is much more positive, and makes me smile rather than shudder. It is about how my current boyfriend, Chris, lost his virginity.
Chris and I met on the 10th of October, the very first Friday of the first term of my first year of Uni, when I was 18. I had decided, along with a few others, to continue the night after clubbing at the campus SU in the flat below mine, which I hadn't previously visited. We were all quite drunk and talking and laughing loudly in the flat kitchen. Chris and a couple of others came and joined in our drunken chat; unsurprisingly, we got along extremely well (I had immediately gravitated towards him because of the green eye-shadow he was wearing) and swapped numbers. He called the next day and asked to meet up, which we did the following morning, and straightaway began a relationship from scratch, having known each other for a few hours. (He says he 'just knew' he wanted to be with me; I say he leapt before looking.)
Our sexual relationship began quickly, though he was determined to savour each experience before moving on. One day, lying in bed together after mutual masturbation, I asked how many people he'd had sex with. ‘What do you mean by 'sex'?’ he asked. ‘Well, oral or more, I suppose.’ He immediately blurted, ‘One.’ I assumed he meant he'd had sex with one person, and was taken aback when he told me he was a virgin. I couldn't understand how someone so handsome and desirable, not to mention 20 years old, was still a virgin. He explained to me that while he knew it was a leftover from being strongly Catholic before losing faith, he wanted to keep the ultimate intimate experience for someone he was really in love with, and who was more special to him than anyone else. Of course, I didn't pressure him to have sex with me - he wanted to do other sexual things, and that was fine. He was already the best sexual partner I'd had. I did, however, confide in a few close friends for advice, which turned out to be exactly what I would have done anyway. We grew closer and closer, and he let me know after a few months that he did intend to make love with me, but at the right time for him. I was overjoyed that he felt I was that special, so I couldn't wait.
One night in spring, after a meal out and a visit to the cinema, we went back to his house (coincidentally, we live very close together, considering we met at a Uni 150 miles away) for the night. We went to bed as usual, and began to touch and kiss each other, but instead of bringing one another to orgasm, he raised his body over mine and penetrated me for the first time. He moaned and so did I - I hadn't had sex in months and he had stretched me somewhat with that first push. We whispered tenderly and lovingly to one another as he began thrusting. The bed was squeaking and it was at the back of my mind throughout, worried that his mother would overhear. After a couple of minutes, his nerves took over and he lost his erection, which unfortunately continued to happen and prevented his orgasm before we were both tired out.
The next morning, we woke after his mother had left for work, and tried to make love again. This time, Chris was less tired and more relaxed and didn't lose his erection. He lay over me again and thrusted clumsily in and out, still and it was obvious that he was anxious to do it 'right'. He came inside me, which I definitely wanted. Afterwards, he lay in my arms, pleased that he hadn't had to stop and that he had had sex as most people think of it, and we fell asleep again.
We're still happy and have an explorative, tender and satisfying sex life.
I know the second story is someone else's, but it's still extremely important to me. I hope these have been, if not helpful or interesting, then at least a bearable read. Thanks for taking the time to read it! I've just discovered your blog and find it fascinating, so thanks for that as well.