Virgin(64)

I put my thoughts into a mental list.

     He knew I was a virgin already. This was good because it meant he would take care and not shove it inside me with full force.

    Almost everyone lost their virginity. It couldn’t hurt that much, surely?

    The blood bit. What if I bled all over the sheets? It would be so embarrassing. I wouldn’t be able to live it down.

    Horse riding! It broke hymens. If I rode a horse, I would break my hymen, then sex wouldn’t hurt and I wouldn’t bleed everywhere. I could skip straight to the fun bits.

    How on earth was I going to start horse riding in central London?

    Maybe I didn’t have to horse ride to break my hymen. Maybe I could do it myself? I could just penetrate myself . . .

    I should have bought a dildo instead of a tiny little bullet. Or the rampant rabbit. I was clearly going to have to lose my virginity to some piece of plastic, and it was now or never.



With grim determination, I went into my bathroom and started running a bath. I needed to do this in a warm, lying-down location, and seeing as I had my period, it would probably be best to do it in water and not on my white sheets. It also had to be now or I would keep going over it in my head. I would use whatever I could find instead of an actual dildo, and I’d continue all week, or as long as it took until Jack and I had sex. Then, by the time it came to the real deal, my hole would be the perfect size.

While the bath ran, I scanned my bedroom for something suitable for self-penetration. I considered and eliminated the handle of my hairbrush (too thick) and a selection of mascaras (way too thin). The zucchini in my fridge briefly flashed into my head, but the thought of putting a vegetable inside me freaked me out.

I went into the bathroom and looked at all my toiletries. The shampoos and bottles were all too big. I dug deep into the cabinet and, to my utter joy, I found an old set of bath stuff my aunt had given me for my eighteenth birthday. I had forgotten all about the Champneys set, but the four pink-and-white bottles containing body lotion and shower gel were going to come in handy. Each bottle was about five inches long, and the diameter was strangely similar to that of Jack’s penis. I had hit the jackpot.

Triumphantly, I selected the bubble bath one, then stripped off and eased myself into the warm bath. I added a bit of the bubble bath stuff to the water first, ignoring the fact that it was three years old. I laughed nervously to myself. The bottle looked a bit intimidating, considering it was about three times the size of a supersized tampon. I took a deep breath and put it into the water. I tried to ease it into my hole, but it wouldn’t go in. I pushed harder and yelped in pain.

Bollocks. Now what? I needed to turn myself on, so I would get wet and the valve bits would relax and open up. I lowered my fingers and started fiddling with my clit. I closed my eyes and let myself think of giving Jack head and how good and exciting it had felt. I moved my fingers faster. Then I had a brain wave. I would slip a few of my fingers into my vagina and try to open it a bit, fingering myself before using the bottle.

I put one finger in and it slid up easily. The skin was a totally different texture than the rest of my body, and it felt almost rough up there even though it was also warm and damp. Ew, that was probably my period blood, I thought. I ignored the grossness of the image and carried on. I withdrew the finger and then put two in together. It was a bit tighter this time. I tried to move them around, trying to stretch the hole a bit. Then I took them out and added a third one. I shifted a bit and wiped my brow with my other hand. This was hard work.

The three fingers clumped together couldn’t go in as far as the two, but I pushed them around a bit, writhing like a demented mermaid in the bath, then screeched when I accidentally pushed them in too hard. The pain was excruciating and I wondered—was this it? Had I finally torn my hymen?

Anxious to know, I grabbed the Champneys bottle. I breathed slowly, trying to relax myself and get back in the zone. After a while, my heartbeat calmed down, and with the help of my fingers working away on my clit, I started to feel my vagina open slightly. To my surprise, the bottle slipped in. Not all the way, but a little bit. I tried to wiggle it around, to expand the hole and make sure it would be able to cope with a penis inside. It started to feel slightly sore, so I decided I’d done enough for today. I would just do this once a day until Jack and I met up again, curling out my inner lotus, to prepare myself for the ultimate deflowering.

I slipped out of the bath, wrapped myself in a huge fluffy towel and waddled out into my room. My bits still felt a bit sore, so I walked with care. I put on my large Barack Obama T-shirt. Then I walked over to my chest of drawers where I kept all my knickers and bent down to open the bottom drawer.