Virgin(71)

I started to wonder how long it would last. I’d spent so long preparing myself for the moment of penetration that I hadn’t got round to imagining this part. In my head, a penis entering a vagina was accompanied by an explosion of confetti and balloons. That hadn’t happened in reality. Now he was pushing himself in and out of me, his face winced up in a cross between pain and twisted euphoria.

He groaned loudly and I knew I should start making my little moans again. Whenever I had a real orgasm I barely made any sounds, but I felt silence wasn’t an appropriate form of climax. I stifled a yawn and tried to release low, sensual sounds. He gave a particularly enthusiastic thrust and one of my sexy sighs turned into a loud grunt. I cleared my throat and pretended it hadn’t happened.

“Are you okay?” He was breathing heavily, his voice husky and masculine.

“Mm-hm,” I replied, my lips pushed together as I breathed through my nose to try to lessen the discomfort. I tried to recall what the yoga teacher at the five-quid student class I’d once attended had told us. Breathe through the pain. Long, deep breaths, in and out of your nose.

“Are you sure?” he asked again. “You’re breathing kind of funny.”

Damn you, yoga instructor. I gave him a little smile and switched back to breathing through my mouth. Both his breathing and his thrusts became quicker and I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. He was gearing up to release his man-load.

His penis pushed into me harder and deeper than before and my mouth dropped open in shock, gasping at the sudden pain as he sped up. It went in and out again, faster and faster. He was unaware of my agony and within seconds his body was shaking. He let out a groan and collapsed on top of me. His five-foot-ten, average male body fell on top of my exposed boobs. I felt my windpipe crunch into my organs and I gasped for breath.

He held me tightly as he carried on coming into me and gradually his breathing slowed. We lay there for seconds. Me, unable to breathe, and he, regaining his breath.

“That . . . was . . . amazing,” he gasped. “You’re so tight.”

“Um, thanks?” I managed as he untangled his arms from around me and pulled himself off my body. His manhood fell out of me, limp and shriveling. It got smaller and fatter and the damp, cloudy condom crinkled itself around it like used plastic wrap. I stared in fascination at the small bald creature withdrawing into its layers of natural habit.

He pulled the condom off, pulling his penis at the same time, and my eyes grew rounder as I realized how much force the penis could withstand. It stretched out and then bounced back. It was like Play-Doh.

He collapsed onto the bed next to me, dropping the condom onto the floor, where I heard it plop onto my soft green rug. I grinned at the fact that I was a twenty-one-year-old girl with a naked man in her bed, a dirty condom on the floor and a sore vagina. I was finally a normal student. I had achieved the dream.

I couldn’t stop smiling. I lay my head on his naked upper body, nuzzling my face into his chest hair and breathing in his sweat. I closed my eyes happily. I was cuddling up to my boyfriend post-sex. I’d just lost my virginity to a perfect guy in the most perfect way. I had to text my friends.

I shifted away from him, and in the dim light, searched the floor for my mobile. My hand hit something smooth and hard and I grabbed it. I switched it on and immediately tapped out a message.


I LOST MY V-PLATES HALF A SECOND AGO. I’M A REAL WOMAN. I’M EVERY WOMAN. AH!!!!!!

I started typing in Lara’s name, but then remembered we still weren’t back to the way we were before the fight. I felt a pang of pain and guilt and sickness and sadness. Where was the fun in losing your virginity if you couldn’t share it with your best friend?

“Babe, what are you doing over there?” Jack called out.

His voice yanked me back to reality. This was my moment. I wasn’t going to let Lara’s weirdness spoil it. I was typing Emma’s and Paul’s names into the “to” box when Jack’s leg kicked against mine.

“Ellie?” he asked, his voice incredulous. “Are you texting?”

“Oh my God, no,” I said, dropping my phone back onto the floor. “I’m just, um, checking the time.”

There was a pause. “Right, okay. What’s the time?”

“Like, eleven twenty-three?” I said.

“Cool,” he said, and we looked at each other. “So, how does it feel to not be a virgin anymore?” he asked.

I grinned shyly. “I don’t know. Good, I guess.”

He smiled back at me. “Glad to hear it. Now come here and give me a snog.”

I obliged and we lay intertwined on my white bedsheets until I suddenly remembered the post-virginity blood. I looked down, panicked, but there was nothing there. I turned my back to Jack, pretending to search for my knickers as I quickly put my finger into my vagina and pulled it out again. I squinted. In the light it looked like there was nothing on it. Thank God. The Champneys bottle had worked.