Happy anniversary, virginity. Happy Valentine's Day too

Valentine's Day is the anniversary of the day I lost my virginity many years ago. I've already told the story since I had relatively few regular readers back then I'm going to repost it. For a little bit of context the theme of that week around the blogosphere was grounding sex in the real world by confessing non-storybook sexual near-disasters. That's not the meme this week (though grounding sex in the real world is never a bad idea) so I'll confess that while it had its hilarious moments it really, really was a wonderful experience. (I've slightly edited this version but there's a link to the original at the very end of the post.

Oh boy. At sixteen I lost my virginity on Valentines day to a hot, passionate, very responsible, incredibly intelligent, and very attractive fifteen year old who was as passionately in love with me as I was with her. We knew about birth control. We knew about foreplay. We checked in so many ways to make sure we were ready before we started. We found a not-entirely-romantic, but safe location. She felt a little bit of pain but we'd been using our fingers to help stretch things out for a couple of weeks.

What could possibly go wrong?

Well. In the storybook high-altitude overview sense nothing did. It was on *Valentine's Day!* We loved each other even more after than we did before. She came during intercourse (and though I didn't it felt so nice I scarcely noticed.)

Oh, there were a couple of things.

The biggest problem was the twist-ties. Yep, those can always be a problem. Her dad turned out to be a bit of a problem too. And I didn't get to come which was kind of a mixed blessing. (On the one hand I didn't come but on the other I've been able to brag that she came and I didn't for decades now. Plus I got to have intercourse for the first time and it felt *great* so I hardly cared then or now whether I got to come too.)

Oh yeah, about those twist-ties. They were for the baggie.

Now, about her dad...

Ok. Nearly everybody's story has a dad in there somewhere. The bit about the baggie is probably more interesting.

Ok. So in 1971-1972 there weren't a lot of places where fifteen or sixteen-year-olds from the suburbs could buy condoms. The county health department would dispense the pill no questions asked. If anyone got pregnant there was a well-developed underground railway to get you to the District of Columbia (if you were less than 12 weeks pregnant) or New York (if you were less than 24.) But condoms were pretty much available only behind the counter in pharmacies, and back then pharmacists were stern older men (no pharmacists assistants in those days) with an amazing habit of going to the same church or PTA meetings or other social events your parents did. Neither of us had a car, or unsupervised access to one. We obviously couldn't go in (many) bars. We tried a couple of truck stop and gas-station restrooms but even that didn't pan out.

We thought about alternatives very carefully. We didn't have any Saran Wrap. We used a baggie. Then, to hold it on we tried the old-fashioned twist-ties that came in the box with them. (No zip-lock back then either.) Actually I had to twist a couple of 'em together to get them around me. And to make sure the baggie stayed on I gave them quite a few extra twists around me.

Woo hoo. If I'd only known about BDSM back then (or been into it) I'd have had it made. As it was it just another uncomfortable thing you'll put up with when you're dying of hormones and curiosity. (Note: I think she thought of the baggies and I think she suggested tape. I thought of the twist-ties since we couldn't find any good moisture-resistant tape.)

Entry went pretty well, even though like everyone else (I think) we weren't entirely sure how best to line the parts up. We'd diligently gone through tons of foreplay, including kissing, undressing, fondling, cunnilingus, and external genital contact. Then out came the baggie, on went the twist-tie, we held hands while I ate her close to the edge, we asked each other if we were sure, then if we were ready, and then...

Well, if you've ever had intercourse it was pretty much like that. She was very close to the edge already and I was uncomfortably constricted at the base but *very* comfortable where it counted. Too constricted really to come, but it felt *very* nice to move inside her. The twists on the twist-tie were on the bottom side of me so I rode high to avoid scratching her. That put me in exactly the right spot to contact her clitoris and she very quickly came. As soon as she did I pulled out -- we were both concerned about pregnancy and not that sure how well the baggie would hold up.

I was happy though. She was *very* happy. Once the ice was broken we quickly summoned up the courage to find condoms after all (a bus trip way downtown to a pharmacy in a low-rent district.) Soon after she got on the pill and we went got together for love and sex as often as humanly possible.

Oh yeah, and her dad came home unexpectedly early and came *that* close to catching us. He didn't care much for me at all and consequently (paradoxically) I don't think he even suspected we were up to anything at all.

Next time I lose my virginity I'm going to do a couple of things differently.

1) I'll have my vasectomy first
2) If I use protection it won't be a fucking baggie.
3) If it has to be a baggie I won't use fucking twist-ties and I certainly won't twist them so tight either.
4) I'll do my best to make sure she has an orgasm, but if she does I won't get the idea in my head that I can make anyone else have an orgasm her first time. (Another story.)
5) To the extent possible I'll relax and try to enjoy it as well as simply experience it.
6) Oh yeah, and next time I'll try not to have read quite so many sex-education books from the 40's, 50's, 60's and early 70's with my partner before we actually try anything together. Those people were so wrong about so many things I figured out only later. As Will Rogers once said "It's not the things we don't know that get us into trouble. It's the things we know that just ain't true." Not that I've ever minded unlearning anything about sex. Rogers never mentioned that discovering what's true feels lovely more often than not. :-)

The original post appeared here.

Happy Valentine's Day, from me to you.

[See the the second photo in another extended photoset after the "continue reading" link, below. --fl]