Virgin(59)
“Am I just Paul’s type, or yours too?” he asked as he leaned in towards me and I felt his breath on my neck. My knees turned to jelly and I felt like a Judy Blume character—except she never would have talked about the side effect of the vaginal throb.
He kissed me before I had a chance to answer and I melted into his arms. I was a living, walking cliché and I was on cloud nine and three-quarters. The words MARRY ME kept flashing across my head as he kissed me without tongue and then put his hand on my vagina and discreetly rubbed it under my dress. I gulped. He was groping me in public. This would be such good material for a game of Never Have I Ever.
I slipped my hand onto his crotch and rubbed him a tiny bit too. The alcohol was already doing wonders for me and I was imbued with Dutch courage. I’d read all the rules and now it was time to live them. He pushed a bit harder on my vag and I suddenly felt the tampon string rub against my skin. OH FUCK, the tampon. I shifted my position and gently moved his hand away from there.
He broke away from me and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said. “Probably a bit inappropriate for the pub.”
“Maybe just a bit,” I acknowledged. “Maybe, um, maybe we should get out of here?” I was an actual femme fatale. A go-getter, a woman of the world. A Samantha, not a Charlotte.
“Let’s go,” he murmured, and his breath tickled my skin again and I knew that my vaginal hard-on was making me very damp down there. Or maybe it was just my period.
There Will Be Blood
Yes, Daniel Day-Lewis, there will be. For about five days every month. Bet that’s not quite what you were thinking when you starred in your well-named blockbuster.
Which brings us to period sex. EM is going to take over here because EK hasn’t had any kind of sex yet, let alone period sex. She is, however, all for it in theory.
EM: I have had a lot of negative experiences with men who have rejected sex with me when I was on my period. It was horrible.
It was also fucking stupid of them.
When I am on my period, I am generally hornier. It’s how Mother Nature made us. Unlike the bastards who rejected me, she clearly thought we should be shagging away while our uteruses sort out their lining. Also, the blood is basically free lube.
It makes the sex better.
A lot of the men I’ve been with seem to think that when girls are on their periods, the blood gushes out of us. Well, listen up, men: It doesn’t. I am not Moses splitting the Red Sea. My red sea is more of a trickle.
If you have sex with me while I’m on my period, I will not bleed all over you. Especially if it’s at the start or end, when periods are generally lighter. You might have a bit of blood on the condom but aside from that, I doubt you’d notice.
If you don’t want to go down on me, that’s okay. There will be days when I don’t want anyone near my bleeding chalice. But when I suggest period sex, I don’t want you to wrinkle your nose at me and turn away in disgust. It’s fucking natural.
It’s also the best sex you’ve never had.
We got the bus back to Jack’s flat in East Dulwich and I followed him up the stairs, my heart beating rapidly. I just about took in the wooden floors, spacious living room and relatively tidy kitchen before we got to his room. I noticed the single bed with preemptive disappointment about the quality of sleep I was going to get, but I was too full of adrenaline to care.
He put his arms around me and started kissing me again. We both sank onto his bed and began pulling our clothes off so we were just in our underwear. I hoped he wouldn’t notice I was wearing the same black bra and underpants as last time—freshly washed—and made a mental note to buy some more boy-appropriate underwear that didn’t have colorful patterns all over it like everything else I owned.
His hands wandered all over my body, and this time I was prepared for the boob squeeze. The pain even felt sexy and I briefly wondered if maybe I was a sadomasochist. Once we’d had sex a few times, I would ask him if we could try S and M—except without the whole whipping thing because that looked too painful.
“I want you so bad,” he whispered into my ear. Oh my God: dirty talk. There was no way I could do that yet. I was a virgin, for chrissake.
“Same?” I said awkwardly, and then decided that talking while fooling around—or during sex, when the time came—wasn’t for me.
He must have got the hint because he carried on snogging me in silence. His hands met behind me at my bra clasp and I felt him struggling. I was going to do it for him like last time, but then I remembered it was a Cosmo golden rule to let the man feel masculine. I didn’t want to emasculate him by helping him. Instead I let him struggle for a few minutes until it triumphantly fell limp against me and he pulled it off my arms.