The Virginity Project

Southern Hospitality...

As we descended into Atlanta, we could see this sprawling metropolis with elaborate highways and skyscraper buildings that was very different from the London skyline. We were greeted by some very friendly immigration officials who kept saying ‘Welcome to Atlanta, Georgia, the Capital of the American South’. It was my first experience with American southern hospitality. It excited me because no immigration official in the United Kingdom had ever been that pleasant to me.

We stayed in a suburb called Druid Hills, a lovely affluent all white neighbourhood. So, here was this British/African family moving into this over pristine American neighbourhood with the perfectly manicured lawns, lovely driveways, basket ball hoops in everybody’s property and cars galore. It was a very different experience from the Finchley High Road in Swiss Cottage.

The first day of school was like something out of a movie. It was my first time not wearing a uniform to school. It was my first time having a locker, and it was my first time not having different classes in the same class. On average, we had 8 classes a day and a school bell would ring indicating when one “period” ended and we had 5 minutes to proceed to the next class. It was all so surreal, but what was even more surreal were the girls. MY GAWD!!!!!!!!!! They were beautiful. White, Black, Latino, and Asian girls all over the place. Beautiful bodies, bodacious attitudes, and an alarming number were very friendly. They immediately took to the two new boys who had come in from London. They were in awe of our accents and would just love to hear us speak.

Before we knew, the coaches, and teaching staff all loved us. We were both playing sports, doing well in school, invited to every single party, had girls writing us love letters, and even some girls ready to date us. There was one issue; none of these girls were having sex. It was crazy because this was the only stereotype of America that was demystified. A lot of American girls in the South during those days had very strong religious values and the most important one was saving themselves for marriage. They were prepared to do everything else but that, so after a while, it got very frustrating, but I was still learning. It wasn’t until my twin brother; my main man a 100 grand finally got it off with his girlfriend. That was when I believed something was very wrong with me. He described in grave detail the experience. They did it in her parent’s house one of the weekends he went over there. I was so jealous and happy for him at the same time. I was dating about three girls at the time, and I had propositioned each and everyone one of them, but nothing ever came out of it. They all enjoyed being around me, they all wanted to be seen with me, and go as far as giving me hand jobs, but none of them wanted to do the deed and I couldn’t understand it.

It was one day in October as the winter began to form; I was feeling sorry for myself being the only virgin left in the crew. I ate some very bad sloppy Joe’s (barbeque sauce dripping beef served in a bun) in an attempt to cheer myself up and developed a tummy bug in the process. For the first time, I went to infirmary and there she was, Nurse Serena Wainwright*. She was 23, 5ft 3 inches tall, as voluptuous as anything I had ever seen, smooth ebony skin, and the most delicious lips. My tummy bug was quite bad so I had to spend some time there. She gave me some medication and asked me to just relax until the end of the day. Over the next few weeks, her beauty was enough of a reason to continue to come and see her and we spoke at length each time I went. She asked about how the sports season was going and commented on the games she saw me play. She asked about the different girlfriends I had and couldn’t believe that as popular as I was with the ladies, that I hadn’t had sex.

She was very different from any other girl I knew. She already had a child from a previous relationship and was now raising this little boy on her own. After a few months of keeping each other company, I went to see after practice one day, and told her that I would just keep her company until it was time for her to go home. She finished up late that day and she offered to drop me off at home. When we got to my house, I told her to pull up a few feet away from my house because I didn’t want my parents seeing this older lady drop me and I wanted to tell her how I felt about her. After I expressed myself to her, I took that leap of faith by leaning over and giving her a big fat wet kiss. Initially she was shocked and pushed me back for a few seconds and then, much to my delight, she responded by grabbing the back of my head and pulling me closer to her and locking my lips and tongue with hers. It was a very mature kiss, unlike any I had ever experienced. A few minutes into our kiss she grabbed me down there and stroked it through my shorts with erotic pleasure, breathed heavily and said to me ‘I want that thing inside me’. I was so turned on by this; I didn’t know how to behave. I was ready to give it to her in the car 20 feet away from my parent’s house. She told me to calm down, and said she would let me know when it would be best to come over to her house.

I followed her orders, even though I couldn’t stop thinking about what she had said and the erotic feeling I experienced. The following week, she had a note sent to me with her address, the time and day to come over, and the excuse to tell my parents.
I told my parents I was spending the night at my friend’s house. My twin brother pretended to be sick preventing him from going and off I was on this remarkable adventure. There I was sitting on the Atlanta Metro train bubbling with excitement anticipating what was going to happen. I called her once I arrived at the train station near her house. She drove by in her Ford Escort and picked me up taking me to her two bedroom flat. The atmosphere was set; her son was at his father’s house.
She offered me, a minor at the time some cognac (that’s probably where my desire for Courvoisier comes from) with strawberries. I was in heaven! She showed me her bedroom where a very quaint bed was. Brian McKnight was playing in the background. She told me to give her a few minutes. I took off my clothes and lay my 6 ft 2inches frame on the bed. I remember thinking to myself, Oh My Goodness, today is the day I lose my virginity. She came out of the bathroom, wearing just her underwear and bra and asked if I was ready, I responded saying ‘Hell Yeah’. We kissed like banshees, she rubbed my chest and grabbed my cock and stroked it very hard. It felt like it hurt, but it was a pleasurable pain. I kept wondering what it was going to feel like when I got inside her. After about 5 minutes of foreplay, she took off her panties and asked me to stick her. I took the condom I had earlier purchased on my way to her house and put it on. I struggled putting it on because I had never put a condom on before while under so much pressure. Finally, the condom slipped on and here it came, that magical moment. I tried to slip my penis into her and it just wasn’t going in. I wondered if this happened to every man their first time. I tried again and again, and as I looked down, only the tip of my head entered, and I was wondering why my whole shaft wasn’t going in. She then said something that probably gave me the ego that I have up until today, she said ‘You know you’ve got a big dick right?’. I was like, WOW!!!!!  I asked her what to do, and like a pro, she opened her bedside drawer and whipped out some KY Jelly and then asked me to apply some on my cock with the condom on and then to also apply some on her clitoris. I did as she instructed, and I tried again, and my dick slipped in. I remember not necessarily feeling anything. I had watched countless hours of porn and seen the pros do it with such athletic precision, so I just wanted to imitate what I had seen on television, so I stroked and stroked and stroked, and stroked without any sensation. The only thing I felt was a sense of accomplishment that I was getting the deed done. After a while, her breathing got heavier and her rhythms more frequent and pronounced. I wondered what was going on, until she started saying ‘fuck me harder, harder, don’t stop’, a few hard thrusts after that, she let out a quiet gasp with her mouth fully open and her legs frozen in some strange mummy type position and all the previous gyrations she was making stopped. Her body now seemed more relaxed and she felt incredibly warm. She said to me ‘How does a young boy like you make a woman like me cum’? I was like ‘huh’. Nothing had prepared me for that. As far as I knew at that time, women didn’t have orgasms, I was confused and wondered, and so is it over now, because I was still hard. She then moved me from on top of her and asked me if I wanted to come and I said yes. She pulled off the condom and asked me to lay back and relax and before I knew it, my cock was in her mouth. Now, after 20 minutes of thrusting and not feeling anything, I felt all the sensation of sex in the first five seconds of feeling her mouth completely rapture my member.
She sucked on it, spat on it, licked her spit off my dick and continued the motion for maybe another 90 seconds before something very strange started to happen. My body was tingling out of control, my heart was racing, and I couldn’t comprehend the feeling. My palms started to sweat, my toes curled up, and it seems as though every emotion within my being was heading toward my genitalia area and then, like a powder keg, I came all in her mouth and I screamed as though I was getting tortured. She didn’t stop sucking until I was limp and swallowed every drop. After she released my cock from her mouth, I just curled up and cuddled with her until I fell asleep.

She woke me up the next morning, cooked me a huge breakfast and dropped me off at the train station. I promised never to come and see her at the infirmary, and that I would respect the need for this to be quiet, because in the U.S. State of Georgia if an adult (considered anyone over the age of 18) has sex with a minor (anyone under the age of 17), the adult could be brought up on criminal charges for statutory rape. However, as a 15 year old boy with all the immaturity in the world I had to tell my teammates and before I knew it the story was all over the school.
I was called in front of a panel, asked to see psychologists and counsellors making sure I wasn’t going to sue the school. She was fired immediately but wasn’t convicted because I kept hammering on the fact that it was consensual. My mother was mortified, my Dad was proud and I never saw her again and never attempted to.

The story intrigued many women in my school, and I went on to have several sexual partners after that. I eventually graduated, went to University and continued my sexual exploration with several girlfriends and one night stands or jump offs as the term has come to pass.
I learned a lot from that Ms.Wainwright that night, and it is an act that was wrong but the definition of some true Southern Hospitality as I was deflowered that night.’ 

* All names changed to protect identity.

Do not disturb..

I waged a real battle in my head over this one. Should I give this man a platform? Should we actually have to listen to this stuff? Is it even real? Or is he just a man with an empty bed and a rich imagination? In the end, this project has always been about presenting as many different points of view as I could and just because I loathe this particular one, does that mean that I should stop it from being heard?

I briefly toyed with the idea of filming people’s reactions to this story as they read it. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the surprised cat on YouTube but mostly people’s faces looked a bit like this. And thats me trying to make light of something that is not funny. 

The pertinent part of this story for me is just how entrenched the Abstinence movement has become in American culture. This isn’t a casual movement, this is something that is funded by the government and the upshot is that young people are being prevented from receiving decent sex education in the vain hope that they will ‘abstain’ from having sex. Young women are being encouraged to pledge their virginity to their fathers at ‘Purity Balls’. This may sound like something out of a film but I can assure you that it is not. This is real and slowly but surely women’s virginity is being fetishized all over again. The following story is living, and rather disturbing proof of that fact.
‘Hi Kate, 

I was reading some of your collection of statistics on human sexual behaviour, and I noticed you were collecting data from individuals who were willing to share their experiences.
I am male, and I don't experience shame regarding sexual matters. I'm devout Roman Catholic, an almost chaste mystic, a prophet, sage and scribe. I'm an author, as I do need money to live in civilized society. That's just a fact of life. 
I was born 01/01/1981, in the USA. When I was 14, I was visiting my aunt and uncle. They left to the local bar to party. My aunt hired a babysitter, a neighbour’s daughter, because I didn't know how to care for small children.
I had never really been driven to have sex. I might note that males do not have virginity. The Roman Catholic Church developed a religious doctrine claiming the existence of male virginity, and gays and feminists adopted it as a means to obscure genetically programmed gender differences. 
So, I never considered myself a virgin, and I never lost my virginity. But the 13-year-old babysitter fell in love with me. I was not a very romantic 14-year-old, so I didn't know what was going on. I didn't acknowledge myself as attractive, so I didn't understand that girls would be attracted to me for mating.
I was innocent. I thought there were two ways for a female to have a baby: she could get married, and it happened magically; or she could have sex, and she could also have a baby that way.  The babysitter, named Sarah, got frustrated in her attempts to get my attention, and she came over and kissed me. After that, things just sort of happened, and I thought it was great. 
She was attractive, fit and developed almost like an adult woman. She was beauty queen later in her youth. I also turned out to be very attractive. We hung out from time to time, and we always went out when I was visiting my aunt and uncle. But that first experience changed me. I didn't look at the world the same way. I started drinking beverage alcohol, and experimenting with drugs. I didn't do as well in school.
It seemed like life had lost meaning. I fell away from the church. I had sex with about 20 girls in high school, mostly cheerleaders. I'd show up at parties, and the girls would fight over me. One party, a girl took me upstairs, and when we came back down, her one-year-younger sister took me upstairs.
I loved to party. In my early twenties, I lived in a trendy part of the city. Two of the girls from my high school class, but who I didn't date during high school, came to me at different times, telling me they wanted to have sex with me before they got married to their fiancés. I refused. 
One of my high school girls sought me out before I was to be married, and said she wanted to have me one last time. I know this sounds impossible and contrived, but I assure you, it's true. I deeply regret my sexual past, because I can't really love a woman.
I'm selfish and self indulged. I use women, and I can't help it. I'm going to keep on testing virgins for chastity, and when I find one who can resist me, who loves God more than she loves me, I'll marry her.
But I just can't respect a girl who soils herself. I think I love her, and that I really want to spend the rest of my life with her, but when I sow my issue inside her, she seems soiled. Then I can't wait to get away from her, because she's not desirable for her innocence.
I think of it this way: Every masculine male wants a girl he can call his own; a girl to whom he teaches the pain of atonement, and releases her blood sacrifice of innocence; that the child she bears might be blessed of her holy and chaste womb.
Men who are indifferent to whether or not they marry a virgin are not masculine. They are still boys, with no appreciation for the beauty of innocence. I was once a boy. I know. I lament each time a girl loses her virginity to me, because there goes another prospective bride.
I can father children all my life. But a girl is on a clock. No decent man wants to marry a girl who has already had some other guy inside her reproductive tract. Only a man lacking self respect will marry a non-virgin. 
Have you ever read any posts girls write about their nightmare boyfriends and husbands? These guys have utter disrespect for themselves, and for their women. But a non-virgin can't attract anyone else. 
I don't date for sex and recreation. I treat each date as a job interview for the position of wife and mother. But men are genetically programmed to test the chastity of each prospective bride. I just lure the girl into privacy, treat her like a sensual female, dim the lights, tell her I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and only her; and make her feel special, like she's the luckiest girl in the world, about to have the best night of her life, with the perfect male, and it will never end.
When I find a girl who tells me, ‘Put a rock on my finger, marry me, and get me pregnant. Then I'll believe you love me’, I'll devote myself totally to her happiness, for the rest of my life. I want a true equal for a wife. 
I'm back in good with mother church. I recite the rosary each day, and say The Chaplet of Divine Mercy. I read the Bible for at least 1/2 hour each day, and study Roman Catholic Doctrine. It isn't a sin for males to have sex before marriage, because that's the way men test female chastity. It's natural law. 
But it is a sin for a female to have intimate contact before marriage, because she loses her blood sacrifice of innocence. She's useless as a wife after that. She wasted her choicest ornament, allowing a man to use her as primal urge gratification flesh.
So I do value virginity. The world is going through a temporary phase. The genetic code of the unchaste female will be purged from the human gene pool, and female chastity will shine like light unto the world. It's a cyclical thing. Godless perverts don't reproduce, and the progeny of unchaste mothers is wiped from history in two generations.
Only the DNA of the chosen survives. That's an advantage God enjoys over Satan. Satan can corrupt one or two generations, but They can't alter the self cleansing property of human DNA. Only the chosen survive through generations, to become immortal.

That's just the way I feel. It's not right or wrong. Everyone functions according to their own beliefs. What was Truth is Truth now, and it always will be Truth. There is one Truth. Everything else is wrong. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but Truth shall never pass away. 
Mike’ 

Oh happy day!

I couldn't have picked a better place for an article about The Virginity Project if I had tried. Here is the link to yesterday's feature in the Observer Magazine about yours truly and this blog. Many thanks to those who helped to make it happen.  You know who you are!

I couldn't have picked a better place for an article about this blog if I had tried. Here is the link to yesterday's feature in the Observer Magazine about yours truly and this blog. So many thanks to those who helped make it happen.  You all know who you are!

Mr Mojo risin'...

This is quite simply one of the best stories I have ever been told. I am happy to be able to re-tell it to you now. Society celebrates sexuality. More specifically, society celebrates sexuality for the able bodied. I’ve repeated the following anecdote many times on this blog and I’ll repeat it again. The first time that I interviewed a man with a physical disability, I fully expected him to tell me a crap story.  I expected the story to be as limited as the length of Charlie Thomas’s arms, shortened as they sadly had been by a drug called Thalidomide. On the contrary, Charlie Thomas told me one of the finest virginity loss stories I had ever heard. More fool me.

Today’s story is a bit different because Ash’s disability is such that there is little he can do without some assistance, hence the help needed – and provided - by his faithful assistant in order to hit the jackpot so to speak. His assistant is not the only guardian angel in this scenario. Ruby, the woman who helped usher Ash into so called ‘man hood’ also brings to light another uncomfortable truth. Sex workers do some incredibly valuable work. You will only need to read the first few paragraphs of this story to understand how and why this is.

Quite apart from anything else, this story is a sobering reminder of how much most of us have to be thankful for. The ability to get around and about is not a god given right but it is something that most of us take for granted. Virginity has always been a difficult thing to dispense with - for a whole host of different reasons, some of them physical and some of them mental – but most of us do at least possess the ability to walk into a room and lie down on a bed. (Or perhaps even a garage floor… as in the owner of last week’s story). Arise Mr Mojo.

Ash. British, early thirties. Lost his virginity last week.

‘This is the story of how I, a severely disabled man in my thirties, recently came to lose my virginity to a sex-worker.

Having had a neuromuscular disability from birth, my life has taken a different path to most able-bodied people.  I have a graduate degree and an ongoing professional career, and given the debilitating nature of my disability this is a decent achievement.  I am also well liked by most people that meet me.  However, I am somehow in the situation where I only have a few friends, none of whom are particularly close, and a poor social life.  I have also never had any positive attention from the opposite sex that would suggest that I was fanciable, despite getting on with girls when I am in their company and making them laugh.  Any time I have found the confidence to make my interest in a girl known to them, I have been met with polite rejection.

Over the past few years, the gradual deterioration in my physical abilities has accelerated.  Abilities such as moving my hand across a short distance has become more difficult and in some cases impossible.  I often lose my balance and flop over to one side of my wheelchair.  Eating, even breathing, is a struggle.  As bit by bit I lose each of those skills, I face up to the fact that in all probability I am in the final few years of my life.  I do not fear death itself, and I have never expected to live to a ripe old age.  But I feel incomplete and lonely, and that is not how I want to be when I die.  In recent months I have found myself trying to troubleshoot this problem, and have come to the conclusion that before I can succeed in forming a connection with another person I need to find a way to better connect with my own humanity.  To do that I need to embrace myself as a sexual person; not the unattractive, defective lump I usually identify with, but as a unique and desirable individual.  My virginity was making this impossible to do – without a sexual or sensual experience to draw upon I wouldn’t be able to move forward with this plan.

After much deliberation and research, I decided to pay an escort to help me with this.  I emailed a girl called Ruby to introduce myself and received a very positive response. Over the next few days I thought about it further and considered the practicality and even the morality of this decision. I plucked up the courage to speak to my personal assistant, Sam, whose support and understanding I would need.  This I got.  I phoned Ruby to confirm a date and time a few days ahead. Fast-forward through the excruciatingly anxious intervening period to the big day...

I was sitting on my bed waiting when I heard the doorbell ring.  The anxiety turned to nervous excitement.  She was here, and moments from now I would get my chance to experience being with a woman.  And I knew that within the hour, assuming my body didn’t fail me yet again, I could stop identifying as a ‘virgin’.

Sam ushered her into the living room and asked her to wait while he checked on me.  He came to me, smiled wryly and commented that she looked very nice, and made sure I was ready to receive her.  After maybe 30 seconds that seemed like an eternity, Ruby popped her head through my bedroom door, smiled and came in closing the door behind her.  She was wearing a pretty black dress and came in laughing because Sam had told her: ‘He’s all yours!’  She gave me a brief kiss on the lips to start with and from that point on I was completely ready for anything – as that kiss was the most intimate moment I’d had in my life up to that point.  I remember thinking how moist her lips were and how they just slipped and slid over mine.  It felt so pleasant and natural; the sensation was unique.

I asked her how she was (just small talk) and directed her to the envelope of cash on my desk which she promptly opened and quickly counted.  I was a bit surprised.  I thought she would make some excuse about needing to freshen up in the bathroom, as a ruse to count the money in the private.  That’s what escorts do on TV anyway!  It felt slightly weird, but it only lasted a few seconds so I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

After talking for a few moments and breaking the ice she said I would probably want her to get out of her dress so I could see the goods.  And with a sexy little shake and a smile she slipped out of her dress to reveal her lingerie underneath.  I was really enjoying this, albeit with the slightest frustration that because I was lying almost flat on my back on the bed and she was stood just off to one side my view wasn’t perfect to fully admire every detail.

She then started to unbutton my shirt and, with a bit of instruction from me as to how to move my arms, she took it off.  I thought this would be more difficult and had intended that I would keep my shirt on, just unbuttoned so she could caress my chest.  But I was glad it was off.  She then slid down my trousers which I had deliberately not had fully pulled up when I was getting dressed for her.  When they were off I was pretty pleased with myself for having chosen my clothes successfully for ease of removal!  I was now completely naked, and loved this.  It’s not like I haven’t been naked in front of women before, but they’ve all been nurses or carers, or my mum.  This time it was different.  I was naked to receive pleasure.

Ruby then began to get out of her lingerie.

First she removed her bra, revealing beautiful round breasts and pert pink nipples.  I mean, they try to teach you as part of sex education on TV that a ‘real woman’s’ breasts are not like you see in porn, symmetrical and firm with small and perfectly round areola.  Well, Ruby’s breasts were exactly like that.  Just like in my fantasies.  She brought one of her nipples towards my mouth and I rolled my lips and my tongue over it.  Then she did the same with the other nipple.  I had thought that breasts would be softer, spongier, but they felt very firm to my tongue.  The skin was so smooth and tight, and other than the nipple itself I remember feeling no little bumps.  I also remember there was no discernible taste to her nipples, which I found slightly disappointing even though I had no idea of what I thought nipples should taste like.

Next she slipped out of her briefs, exposing her Brazilian-cropped vagina.  As she ran her fingers across it she commented how it was already so wet, which I took as encouragement that she was enjoying this experience too (as much as she could, this being what it was).  She separated her labia and introduced me to her clitoris.  I mean to say she actually, verbally announced it to me – ‘and here is my clit’!  That was another strange moment. It was like I was getting a commentary.  Once again I missed having a perfect view, but I wanted my time with her to keep developing and didn’t want to pause for a freeze-frame.

Back on the bed, she picked up my hands and guided them over her body.  It was so lovely to feel her, yet so frustrating to not have the motor control to do this myself, or the strength to squeeze her and pull on her like every instinct I had was commanding me to do.  She started to stroke my chest again and asked me ‘are you a leg man or a breast man?’ to which I replied ‘I think I’m more of a pussy man actually’.  At that moment I wondered if my remark had sounded particularly crass, but she smiled at me.  She took my hand and pressed it up against her vagina, then put two of my fingers inside her.  In their natural position, my hands make a loosely clenched fist, and if you try to straighten out my fingers then very soon they start to close up again.  So it took some concentration on my part to keep my fingers straight inside her as she slid them deeper within.  

 She was right when she said she was wet, and it was like my fingers were travelling through warm jelly.  In fact when I was thinking about this later on, I remembered the movie ‘American Pie’ which I had seen years ago and only now did it make perfect sense! I tried to press my fingertips against the sides, and generally just feel and explore as much as I could before my fingers curled up again.  I had literally a few seconds to enjoy this but it really was magical for me.  She brought my fingers towards my nose and told me to smell them, so I breathed in.  I was taken aback by the odour, at how pungent it was.  It was kind of unpleasant initially, but in another way it was very satisfying that it was so intense and like nothing I had smelt before.  The strangest thing was that I continued to smell this odour for almost two days, despite the fact that I had thoroughly washed my hands and showered.  I am sure that nobody else smelt it; it’s as if it was infused into my nostrils, or maybe into my brain.  It was like an extension of the experience, inspiring happy memories while it lasted.

Ruby asked me if there was anything I particularly wanted to do.  I told her that I really wanted to taste her.  So she climbed onto the bed and squatted, lowering her vagina onto my lips.  I was able to manage the slightest movement of my head, enough to try and trap parts of her labia between my lips.  And I even surprised myself that I was able to reach out with my tongue enough to lick her.  My disability prevents me from being able to stick my tongue out very far at all, and I had wondered on occasions over the years how I might cope with this very activity.  Well I managed better than I expected to.  Even Ruby commented ‘you’re pretty good at that for your first time’!  I guessed she was probably just saying that to give me a boost, but it felt good to hear all the same.

After a couple of minutes she shuffled down the bed and began to kiss me again.  She worked her way down my neck and on to my chest, as I started to breathe more deeply in an effort to open myself up to the pleasure.  She gently sucked on my nipples with her moist lips, which was something I enjoyed the sensation of more than I would have anticipated.  She climbed off the bed again and continued downward...

Now it’s probably quite hard to imagine how I wasn’t already hard by this point.  I’m sure that had this been a year or two earlier it would have been; in fact I’d have probably blown my load by now.  But I had been feeling depressed and hollow and hadn’t had an erection in ages, not even the slightest ‘stirring’.  Even watching porn on the computer hadn’t been making anything happen.  It had started to feel like nothing was working down there anymore.  I used to think it would be a blessing if my erections would stop, after all what use were they to me?  It’s not like I could see myself ever having the fortune to be in a sexual situation (other than one I had paid for).  I can’t masturbate to get any enjoyment out of it because my hands don’t work properly.  All that would happen is I would have occasional wet dreams with all the embarrassment and inconvenience they entail.  So erections and any sexual urges whatsoever just felt like the bane of my life.  However in recent weeks I had come to realise that without those urges, that stirring, I was not ‘me’ anymore.  I had no smile and no spark.  As Austin Powers would say, I had lost my ‘mojo’ and I needed to get it back.  That is basically why Ruby was here right now.  I needed to test if it had gone forever so that I would know what I was dealing with.

She locked her lips around my cock and got to work on it, and unsurprisingly it felt very nice.  I was very nervous about whether it would have the desired effect, and perhaps I was a little panicky and impatient because it did take some time to begin to grow.  It might sound cheesy to say it, but it felt as if she was literally breathing new life into me.  She mumbled that people had told her that she gave really good blow-jobs, and of course I showed my agreement, even though I would have liked for her to take my cock in further and tighter.  Then I experienced what was quite possibly the most pleasurable act of the evening, and obviously therefore of my life, when she sucked on my balls.  I had always wondered if I would enjoy that, ever since I watched this sex therapy TV show some years earlier in which a so-called expert advised to a woman to suck her husband’s balls only for the husband to report back that he absolutely hated it!  Well now I knew, and it was ecstasy for me.  Like most things it only lasted for moments, and I regret not asking Ruby to do that for longer.  It was like it had started everything within me whirring into action.  I think I was worried that it was feeling too good and that I would cum too soon, so I suppose it was the right choice.

So that was the warm-up complete, and now it was time for the main act.  She asked me rhetorically if I wanted to be inside her, and I smiled and nodded.  She took a condom out of her handbag and put it on me.  I was in two minds about how to feel; despite the overwhelming desire for pure and unobstructed flesh-to-flesh contact, I knew a condom was essential and in a way I was excited to have the opportunity to wear one.  I think the only previous time I had seen a condom in real life was back in my university days when they were being given out free, and I put one over my knob for fun (my wheelchair joystick knob I mean!) She climbed back on to my bed, and briefly stood upright before the inevitable comedy moment when she almost lost her footing and had to scramble to avoid falling off!  But she was fine and she sat down on me, facing me, and with her arms stretched out behind and her hands pressed flat on the bed.  She gently rocked her pelvis, but I was disappointed that I was just not feeling very much at all.  I had wanted to have intercourse ever since I stumbled across its definition in a dictionary at primary school!  And I had questioned for so long if it would even be practically possible for me to achieve.  Well it had gotten off to an inauspicious start.  I then asked the question that, as soon as the words came out of my mouth, sounded like another of those embarrassing things I was sure I’d heard before on the TV: ‘is it in?’ Three tiny words, but if I could have bashed my head against a wall I would have done. 

She confirmed that it was, and suggested it might just be the condom dulling the sensation.  That was a very good point, not that there was anything that could be done about it.  But I realised the bigger problem was that my bed was not completely flat – it is adjustable and I had the backrest raised slightly from the start to improve my view.  I figured that if it was flatter, I could get deeper inside her.  Ruby grabbed the controller and pressed the button to lower the backrest... NO! PLEASE NOT NOW!  My bed has been very temperamental, and every now and again the controller stops working, and of all the times it has failed me this was by far the most inconvenient!  Sam can usually fix the problem quite quickly by unplugging the controller, jiggling the connections, and reconnecting it.  I asked Ruby to try this so she got off me, found the plug and tried to pull it out but it was fitted just too tight.  Seriously, it is only as I am writing this that I see the irony of the problem.  There was only one thing for it.  Ruby pulled the blanket up over me, slipped back into her dress and, slightly embarrassingly left the room to summon Sam.  While she was spending a few minutes in the bathroom, Sam entered with a peculiar grin and I told him the problem.  He fixed it, lowered the bed flat, and left.  Ruby returned to continue from where we left off but in the time that had elapsed, my erection had started to fade and the condom felt a little loose.  She removed the condom and set about restoring me to my former glory with her mouth.  It only took a few moments, but this time I knew I just couldn’t contain it any longer.  ‘I think I’m going to cum’ I told her.  I felt that amazing burning sensation that I don’t get to experience nearly often enough as I ejaculated hard and for the first time in months.  I managed two respectable bursts and Ruby exclaimed: ‘That’s a lot of cum!’ I told her I wasn’t surprised considering how long I’d had to wait for this release. I added that I thought I could go again, perhaps more in hope than expectation because I still desperately wanted to experience ejaculation during intercourse.  ‘You’re still hard! How’s that?!’ she said enquired with some surprise, and I was quite impressed with myself!  I really believed I was going to get my wish, but as the seconds passed I knew it’s just wasn’t to be.  Once again my erection faded, I knew I had less than 10 minutes of my hour with Ruby remaining and that wouldn’t be nearly long enough to recharge.

What happens now? I wondered if Ruby would just excuse herself and leave. What was the usual protocol? I hadn’t really given this any thought.  She sat on the edge of my bed again, moved in closer to me, and just talked to me.  I can’t remember what we talked about exactly.  She told me a little bit about her life in London, her close friends that knew about her life as an escort, and her own difficulties in starting a relationship over the past few years.  I told her some stories about my own heartbreaks, and about the love I have inside me that I don’t know what to do with.  In truth, it didn’t really matter what we were speaking about.  It was just beautifully intimate to be naked and to look into her eyes and to see her looking into mine, and to sense that she actually did care about what I was saying.  It was unforced, affectionate and rounded off our encounter nicely; and it helped to convince me that sex with a prostitute doesn’t have to be a clinical and soulless.

And sadly that was that; my hour was up and Ruby told me she had to go now.  She covered me up and got dressed again.  We thanked each other and I asked her to tell Sam to give me a few minutes to myself.  And with that she was gone.

I had Sam give me a shower a short while after Ruby left, during which time I tried not to give too much away except that it had been a good experience.  I wasn’t beaming from ear to ear, but I had a thoughtful and satisfied smile.  Afterwards I went to sleep, wondering how I would feel in the morning leaving home for the first time as a non-virgin.  I slept well.

The following morning I sent Ruby an email to thank her for her affection, and over the coming days, Ruby and I exchanged a few more messages.  It was very uplifting for me to read what she had to say, in particular that she had enjoyed my sexual curiosity and how I had wanted to touch her and taste her.  She also admitted to me that she occasionally had doubts about her decision to be a sex worker, but that after meeting me those doubts had gone and she felt this was a gift I had given her.  That was a lovely and unexpected thing to read, because at best I hoped that her professionalism would help her to tolerate being with me physically, and I seemed to have made a better impression on her than I imagined I was capable of.

That was my virginity-loss experience.  I am proud of myself that I was able to engineer an opportunity to explore myself sexually, however brief it might have been.  I think I did it with dignity and maturity, and I have no regrets.  Obviously this is not how I would have planned to lose my virginity; I will always yearn for a deep sexual connection with a partner in a loving relationship.  But time is running out for me, the likelihood of that happening is remote, and it was up to me to make something happen sooner than later.  I am relieved that I succeeded, and hope I will be able to find the strength from this adventure to continue my journey of self-discovery and ultimately find contentment.’

 

Location, location, location..

When Cordelia utters the words, ‘you can probably guess what the real plan was’…well, no actually, I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that her plan was to lose her virginity in a dark fusty corner of the family garage but it did bring a smile to my face nonetheless.
It did also remind me how arbitrary virginity loss can be. That it is, after all, just one moment in a sea of other stuff. Because it’s not like this moment of fumbled union in a greasy old garage defines Cordelia’s relationship with her boyfriend. They have had penetrative sex for the first time. Nothing more, nothing less. During this moment, the world did not stop turning on its axis, angels did not weep, parents may well have felt let down had they known but it’s not like they are ever going to find out. The most important point is that contraception was used and two young people felt like they had taken the next logical step forwards in their relationship, and, you could argue, in their lives. Sooner or later we are going to have sex. Why not do it with someone that we actually have feelings for?
Would I feel the same if I were a parent? It’s hard to say. One of my dearest friends has a fifteen-year-old son. I remember the day that this child was born like yesterday. I saw his face before his own mother did, wired as she was from a two day labour and a cocktail of drugs that even Ozzy Osborne would struggle to injest. He is the closest thing I have to a child of my own. The fact that he is now engaged in a ‘grown up’ relationship of his own is amazing to me because it really does seem like 5 minutes since he emerged into the world. Would I stop him from doing that if I were his mother? I don’t think so. He’s going to do it anyway. Why not let him do it under a warm roof, in his own bed instead of having to resort to the school of silly locations.
Still, you can’t deny that the story below does make for a charming one. If we all lost our virginity in beds with the blessing of our parents, I don’t think this blog would be half as interesting. I lost my virginity next to a swimming pool but on balance, I would say that this garage has pipped me to the post.
‘Kate,
Here's my story. It happened about six months ago and took place in the US. I don't suppose it's the most romantic story in terms of events, but I wouldn't change it for the world - with the exception of changing the setting to include a bed. Enjoy :)
I was not going to sleep with him.
I was NOT going to sleep with him.
I was only sixteen, he barely fifteen. I refused to be a teenaged statistic; hadn't I read somewhere that the most common age to lose your virginity was sixteen? I wasn't going to be some hormone-driven, irresponsible high school-er, like a few of the other girls I knew. One of my friends was pregnant; one was always crying over some boy she'd slept with; one talked all the time about how painful it was for her, every single time. I didn't want any of that.
That's what I was telling myself all the way to my boyfriend's house. We'd only talked about it briefly during our last visit the weekend before, so I knew it wasn't going to happen today.
When I got there, I added another reason to my why-not-to-have-sex list: my boyfriend's parents were completely overprotective. We weren't allowed to be in his bedroom without the door being open. My parents weren't too much better. I put the thought of sex out of my head for a while and decided to just go with the flow.
For a while we sat and talked and snuggled as we always did. Then we moved to kissing, touching, all the while keeping an eye out for his parents in the hallway. I was impatient this particular day, literally snatching his hand from its place in my hair and shoving it down my pants. He made some comment about my being particularly wet today. I guess I hadn't really been able to push sex out of my head... but that did NOT mean I was going to sleep with him, no matter how much we both wanted to. Thinking back, I'm pretty surprised at how coherently I was thinking about all this, given that some pretty fantastic things were happening below my waistline.
When we finally pulled our hormones together and went back to cuddling and talking, I settled into a comfortable mindset. I knew he wouldn't pressure me for anything - he was too nice, too caring, and he loved me more than that, so why was I worrying about it? I decided to forget about it entirely.
A while later, we sat cross-legged, face-to-face. ‘You're beautiful,’ he told me softly. ‘So beautiful. I love the way you look, the way you feel under my hands and in my arms, everything about you.’ I remember the look in his eyes, an almost sleepy but happy look as he told me he loved me. It wasn't the first time, not by a long shot, that we'd sat just like this and said those words. But this time was different. As I said ‘I love you too,’ something clicked in me and I realized: I was going to sleep with him.
It was another month or so before we got the chance to do the deed, though; like I said, overprotective parents. That day, two of my boyfriend's friends were also over, and we'd all decided to go for a walk. At least, that's what we'd told his parents. You can probably guess what the real plan was.
The house had two garages, one of which was used as a sort of shop for building and repairing things and so on. That one had a side entrance that was never locked. His friends agreed to stand watch outside while we went in and did the deed.
I didn't expect to be nervous, not at all. And I wasn't, till we entered the garage. It was dark - we had to feel our way to the one small area that wasn't covered with tools and wood and other random junk. I was almost shaking with nerves. He asked if I was sure, and I said yes, even though at this point I really wasn't.
We started kissing then he lowered himself to his knees. I'm short, so this was actually a more comfortable angle for me, but I got onto my knees too. He reached for my jeans, and I backed away. ‘I can do it,’ I insisted. ‘Undress yourself.’
We half-undressed, his pants around his knees and my shirt still on, then I lay down. He had me fumble for my phone and hold it up so he could use the light to put the condom on, which took a good two minutes. I lay back down, and he knelt over me.
It was less painful than I'd expected, more of a pressure than a pain. I would almost compare it to that feeling you get when your chest is congested and you give a cough that you can feel is breaking up the gunk in your throat.
Was this what it felt like, having somebody inside you? It felt like so much less of an ordeal than I'd expected. It was... all right, I supposed. But I was glad that I was sharing it with him.
Now I realize that he was going slowly and gently, but it felt entirely too fast and hard for my liking - it hurt a little bit now - but more importantly, I wasn't getting too much sensation out of it. I did enjoy our closeness, though; that was, perhaps, the best part of the experience. Part of the way through I smiled. ‘We're having sex,’ I whispered. ‘We're having sex’, he answered.
Then nerves kicked in again, almost at panic level. ‘Ow, it hurts,’ I said, very nearly a lie. ‘Hon, it hurts too much now, you have to stop!’ So he pulled out.
‘I know it hurts sweetheart. If we don't finish it now, get through the pain,’ he told me, trying to comfort me with his voice as he coaxed me; ‘we'll just have to do it next time. Better to get it out of the way.’
This gave me enough time to realize that my moment of panic was silly, so I took a deep breath and told him to start again. There was no pain now, only pleasure.
After we were done - which was decidedly soon, since it was the first time for both of us – we scrambled to dress in the dark. Once we were decent, I wrapped my arms around him and we just held each other for a minute. Then we went out to face his friends.
‘Did you do it?’ one of them asked. We nodded. In typical guy fashion, they all exchanged fist bumps while I blushed like, well, a girl.
All in all, I don't think it was a big deal. I absolutely didn't regret it at all and honestly didn't really understand why anyone would; it's just an action. I suppose I might feel differently if I had lost mine under different circumstances.’
Six months later, we're still together. I like to think we're a lot better at sex - it actually feels good now! But, unfortunately, we still have to find ‘interesting' places to sneak around and do it. Most of the time we've opted for a clearing in the woods by a local golf course, and we've also hidden behind some bushes in the backyard. To date, we've only had sex indoors three times. And only two of them involved a bed.
Hope you enjoyed!
Cordelia :]