I've come to realise at the grand old age of twenty something that I'm a sexual oddity. There's rarely a minute that goes by in any waking hour that I don't think of sex, yet I don't yearn to do it. I can go ages without it and, unlike what some of my more active friends at stage school, say, I don't get warts and pimples after a month without sex. In fact I don't even get that frustrated if I go ages without it. Maybe part of my oddness is that I enjoy mental sex. I can sometimes be shagged six or seven times a day up there, but be celibate down below.
I also prefer older men. Not because of their paunches or baldness, but because of their experience. A slow lazy fuck based upon years of knowledge always beats a quick urgent one where we're learning together, or, mega times worse, where I'm the teacher! One fuck in one way or another lasting the whole evening is generally preferential to me than being slammed four or five time in a few hours, even though that can have its merits.
I have no inhibitions about sex. Well intellectually at least. In theory I'd do anything, children, animals and body waste apart that is. I cannot see that anything that two people want to try or do that gives them both pleasure and excitement can be wrong. Come to that I can't think of anything that one person wants to do that I'd say is wrong, with the above caveat on children of course.
So summing me up.
I'm an inexperienced, incredibly open-minded sexual adventurer, who doesn't do it much, but when she does she prefers it with older men.
Now is that odd or what?
Sweet smelling candles, luxurious, silk sheets preferably on a four poster bed, wine or champagne, vases overflowing with roses and me in the finest, sheerest, laciest, sexiest nightdress imaginable. With me, a handsome, tall thirty or forty something man with the consideration of a Samaritan, the tenderness of a nurse, the experience of an octogenarian, the patience of a saint and a cock like a bull. That's was how I imagined being deflowered. Loving, caring, considerately and so absolutely romantically it would make Mills and Boon, yes both of them, cry with envy.
An Audi TT isn't the ideal car to get laid in at any time. It may look funky, corner like a train and go like shit but as a fuckwagon, forget it. There's no proper back seat and the tunnel running down the middle with the gear lever sticking out makes acrobatics essential for all those brave enough to try. So, in the back, half standing, half kneeling bent over the pushed forward front seats I gave up my virginity. Maybe it was inelegant, unladylike, undignified and uncomfortable, but for me it was also fabulously exciting and pleasurable. I'm the only person I know who thinks they had an orgasm when their cherry popped; possibly that accounts for my sexual oddness. On the other hand, of course, it may have been pins and needles or a bout of cramp, but as the somewhat nerdy kid from down the street shoved his thing in me, squeezed my tit, my left one actually, and humped away for a few seconds I believe I climaxed.
(Oh yes that's another part of my oddity. I adore intelligence, hence the nerd. A really smart remark, an incisive comment, a statement about a little known fact or an analysis of a complicated issue can, literally, have me creaming myself. And if someone tells me something that's wonderfully intellectually challenging I can almost feel my knickers sliding downwards before the end of the sentence, well let's say paragraph, after all I'm not that easy!)
I could hardly believe when I got home and mum said.
"Had a nice evening dear?"
Couldn't she see that I'd changed. Surely she'd notice I was no longer a kid? At over eighteen and just been fucked, surely she can see I was now a woman? But no, all she said was.
"You'd better get off to bed Samantharrrrrrrrrr,"
She always emphasised the ending a of my name as a long arrrr, like the sound you make when a doctor looks down your throat. That's why, to all but her, and dad when he's trying to get in her good books or wants a shag, I'm now Sam or Sammi.
It was the same with dad the next morning. Not a spark of interest in his new daughter. No reference to my new womanly look, well I guess that was diluted somewhat by the cream and red striped summer blazer we wore at my ultra posh private school. I forgave him for not welcoming me to the grown up world of people that fucked, for I was also wearing the blue gingham, pleated skirt, white blouse and tie of a schoolgirl.
I desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone almost so the lollipop lady was extremely lucky I didn't whisper as she showed us a cross the road by the school gates.
"I got laid last night, I'm now a woman."
I mulled over who I could tell but couldn't think of who I wanted to tell. I wanted loads of girls and some boys to know that I was now in play, up for it, fully experienced and ready for anything, but to tell them it was that prick Kelvin Adams and that he'd had me in the back of his mum's car, an uncool Audi TT with no back seat at that, just wasn't on.
I decided to be enigmatic about it, although I wasn't quite sure what that was, but it sounded good. So I wandered around for the next few days with an enigmatic smile on my face and an enigmatic look in my eye.
"Are you ok Samantharrrrrrrrrrr?" Mum asked after a day or so. "You sure you're not sickening for something?"
So much for me being enigmatic.
I had sex with Kelvin a couple more times; more as a reward really for services rendered rather than as a strong need on my part, but I could see it was going absolutely nowhere. Not that I wanted it go any special place, for, after all, there is a limit to how much raw intelligence compensates for looks; and being able to decline Latin verbs as you deflower a maiden doesn't really compensate for acne!
In any case I'd got what I wanted and needed. I was a woman now. I was experienced; after all I'd been fucked six or seven times. The mystique had gone; I could have sex whenever and with whoever I wanted. I think that may well have been the first time I realised just what a sexual oddity I was. For now I'd done it, I didn't have a desperate urge to keep doing it.
*
I was a bit of a whiz at tennis. I'd played for both my school and my county and with a little more dedication I could probably have been even better. My coach told me that with a little more dedication I might be able to get to get into the Wimbledon tournament, but dedication and a teenager finding their way in the grown up world aren't natural bedfellows. So by the time Kelvin had plucked my cherry, my love affair with tennis was on the wane. I still belonged to a club and played quite a lot but not with the ambition of improving. After all I'd found men, well Kelvin, and sex. They were much more interesting.
"We've been drawn away to a couple from Colchester" Richard said to me, "I'll drive you down, OK?"
"Sure" I replied over my shoulder pretending not to be too keen.
Richard was a thirty something, single guy at the tennis club. Quite a good player and an even better looker, we'd been paired up by the club's match organiser to represent the club in a county, mixed doubles knock out tournament.
He was tall, well built and always seemed to have a tan. He was funny and witty and spent quite a lot of time with the junior section, not just the girls but also giving tips and help to the boys as well. Nearly all of the girls, me included, fancied him like hell, but at the dances and parties he always had a cracking looking, sophisticated woman on his arm, who, he is reputed to have told others, "was just a friend, nothing serious.". Although he flirted quite outrageously with us younger girls no one admitted or claimed to have bedded him.
"Fancy a drink Sam, or wouldn't your mum like that?" he asked looking at me and smiling as we bowled along the A12 in his BMW.
"Sure, I'd love t," I replied ignoring the mum remark.
"You are old enough aren't you; it's so difficult with you young fillies?"
Sort of sitting up straighter in my seat and probably pushing my chest out a bit I said, rather grandly.
"I am over eighteen you know."
He laughed and glancing across patted me on my knee.
