Virgin(40)

“Nothing,” I whispered, not trusting myself to say anything else, and tried to stop from smiling. We carried on kissing a bit more gently, and then he pulled away from me. “Right, I’d better finish this drink so we can get out of here before we get thrown out.”

I smiled back, suddenly very shy. He picked up his pint, and as I finished the last inch of mine, he drank the entire thing. I watched him down the full pint, my eyes glued to his face, feeling an animal attraction that made me want to rip his clothes off and shag him right there.

I grinned in anticipation. Tonight I would finally lose my virginity and act out the dirty things I’d been imagining ever since I’d watched Basic Instinct at the age of thirteen.

He took my hand and we walked out of the pub, ignoring the leers from a couple of old men in the corner. Outside on the street, he took my face in his hands and kissed me again. I literally swooned. It was so romantic and now, out in the cold air, I was totally Holly Golightly. Except maybe a bit more turned on than Holly was.

Jack pushed me against a wall and we leaned against the bricks, snogging like teenagers. Except I didn’t ever snog like this back when I was a teenager. I had really missed out.

“Okay, so do you want to go back to mine or yours?” he asked, eventually breaking away from me.

Oh my God, this was it. I had dreamed of this moment so many times that for a second I was so overwhelmed I didn’t know what to say. Then my brain kicked into gear, and I told him to come back to my room in Camden, which I had already prepared earlier that day, pre-wax. There was even a singular condom in my top drawer that I’d had since Freshers’ Week when the student reps gave them out for free.

We jumped on the 29 bus, and I noticed he swiped his fare card on the electronic pad even though there wasn’t a bus conductor in sight. He was so honorable. I swiped mine too and we sat near the back, kissing gently. We almost missed my stop but managed to jump off just in time.

Drunkenly, I guided him up the stairs to my room and gave him the one-second guided tour. Then I stood in the middle of my room, with my eyes flickering uncertainly between Jack and the double bed. He walked over to me and started kissing me again.

We collapsed on the bed and kissed more passionately than before. He pulled his white T-shirt off and started unbuckling his jeans. Was he going to take my clothes off too, or should I do that?

While he fiddled with his jeans I figured the most practical thing was to take my clothes off myself, so I pulled my jumper over my head. Then I started peeling my very skinny jeans over my legs, praying he wouldn’t notice the beads of perspiration appearing on my forehead as I tried to make it look as casual as possible.

When I turned around, he was lying across my bed. I stared at his body. It was very pale, and he was thin, but with broad shoulders. He looked a bit like the nineties cartoon Johnny Bravo, and was structurally very top-heavy. His pale skin was covered in moles and he had sparse, curly chest hair.

I suddenly felt self-conscious in my black bra and underpants and decided to turn the overhead lights off, after switching a lamp on. I got back onto the bed. He ran his hands all over my body as we kissed. I was so drunk I had no idea what my tongue was doing, but I decided that the fact that I wasn’t thinking about its every move was probably a good thing. Maybe this was the “natural” part of kissing that had never come to me before.

He moved his hands up to my boobs and squeezed them hard. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t yelp out in pain and hoped he would stop being so forceful with them. They weren’t used to so much human contact. He started fiddling with the clasp at the back of my bra, but after a few tries, I stepped in to save him any humiliation, undoing it myself. He whipped it off me and started kneading my breasts.

I ran my hands across his body, trying to distract myself as I explored the slightly hairy region of his lower back, where it met the top of his boxers. I realized I should probably touch him down there. I cupped my hand over the bulge poking out from under his boxers. I rubbed it gently but suddenly felt a jolt of fear run through my body as I remembered James Martell. Last time I had tried to rub a penis, I had been so clueless that I had tried to put it in my mouth and had practically bitten it off.

I couldn’t handle risking it again. I would have to miss out on the oral or hand job part, so hopefully we could skip straight to sex.

But after about fifteen minutes of hard-core making out, he hadn’t taken off his boxers or tried to remove my knickers. The Playboy wax was going to waste, and I had no idea how to progress from snogging to sex. Wasn’t this meant to be his job?

I was lying on my back and he was on top of me. I could feel his penis pressing into my tummy and thighs when he moved around. He started moving his body up and down, rubbing his dick against my vagina—but with our underwear still on.