Wicked Wednesday #12 – Virgin(ity)
“Virginity is the state of someone who has never had sexual intercourse. That’s the general definition for it and somewhere in some stage of our lives, we all lose our virginity. When do you think that it is? Women, do you lose your virginity when you first penetrate yourself with an object or when you are first penetrated by a man? Men, do you lose your virginity when you first penetrate another person, or when you first masturbate? I bet there’s many different opinions of this! When did you lose your virginity? Who did you lose it to?”
I suppose I’m a traditional thinker on this (forgive me, I’m old)– for me losing your virginity is the first time you have sex i.e. your vagina is penetrated by a cock, (for straight women anyway). That’s just my personal opinion.
I was fourteen when I lost my virginity, I’d had boyfriends who used their fingers and tongues and I suppose if they’d mentioned it I’d have had sex with them, but for whatever reason the subject never came up. I was a strange teenager I think, always outside and never really part of any group. All I wanted, the same as anyone, was for someone to like me. I didn’t see my virginity as anything special, I wasn’t bothered about letting boys kiss me, or touch me. I rarely felt anything, one way or the other. I’d known G for a while before we started going out. He’d been a couple of years ahead of me in primary school, and when we met up again we just started chatting. I know we were together for a while, possibly several months. I remember we had a Christmas together, but I also remember going out to pubs when the weather was quite warm, so was it summer to winter, or winter to summer? That I don’t remember. I remember where we had sex but I don’t remember when, but we did fuck a few times. When I think about it now I wonder how fucked up was I that it meant so little to me? I know I liked him, I actually liked him quite a lot. He was nice, he was kind, sweet, gentle. He wasn’t a dickhead like most of the lads I knew back then. I can’t even remember why we broke up, I remember being angry at him for some reason, but not what that reason was. I met him again when I was about nineteen or so, we started seeing each other again but by this stage he had a serious drink problem. Poor bastard wasn’t even twenty-five. He was still the same kind, sweet person I remembered but it was never going to work. I don’t know what happened to him after that. I do still think about him from time to time, I wonder if he ever got himself straightened out, if he’s even still alive or did he drink himself to death. They do say you never forget your first, I may have forgotten the details but I don’t think I’ll forget him.
See who else is being Wicked this Wednesday !