22) “Let’s talk about sex, baby.” Part one.

“Can’t you hear the music humpin hard, like I wish you would?” Push It – Salt n Pepa.

Hi there girls and boys, I hope you’re well.

If you have an idea of me as some kind of virtuous girl, don’t go any further.

It’s about that time, I suppose. You’ve asked and asked. According to some, this time of my life is my sexual prime, whatever that means. As a young person you think you know it all, not just about sex but the world in general. You think that you can be all cool when talking about it, that doing so makes you look better in front of your mates down the pub. “Aye, I was just saying to wor lass, just after ah’d ovapowerd her…” Even this post has taken a week to write, with..checks the log… 21 paragraph changes.. that’s how uncool I still am talking about it. I can understand wanting to look good at that time in your life of course. Talking to my neighbours about their own youth, the pressure to say that you’d had sex was immense. I think it’s worse for boys, you want to appear to be as worldlywise as you can, but in reality a girl wants someone to be interested in her and doesn’t much care about what you’ve done beforehand. If you’ve a reputation as a stud, ie, a male slag, then that may go against you. My gay neighbours and I have discussed this at length, and they have the same opinion. I recall one drunken night, four of us plus Abby and I, secrets were told, and who cares as they don’t fancy us and we don’t fancy them. Their tales of finding a boy that liked boys in rural areas, making sure that was what they wanted then making sure again so that others at school didn’t beat them up, made for a night of tears and hugs and screaming with laughter. Those experiences make you stronger, and through them they’ve all found their life partners, hopefully.

Girls though. We can be the most cruel of creatures. A couple of girls at school had boyfriends, and they’d meet at weekends or outside the school in the evening. Some of the other older girls hated this, through jealousy or whatever, and so began an active campaign to bully and shame them. For what? Doing the exact same thing you were doing at night with other girls? The same bully we made it so uncomfortable for that she had to leave the school was the chief instigator in this, making up all sorts of lies about the two girls, how slutty they were, that their boyfriends were seeing others and all because she was jealous that they were having sex. Another girl went to the trouble of texting another anonymously, saying she was fucking her boyfriend. The poor girl was a shy and un-confident thing anyway, but this caused her to self harm with a pen, the blood from her wrists soaking into the wooden floor. The stain was still there a year later when we left. She was from Wiltshire and we didn’t see her again after she was taken away in an ambulance. However, she recovered and was married five years later, to that very same boy.


The enjoyment I have from sex certainly hasn’t diminished, but has it increased? You can only measure these things over time and whilst comparing now to back when I was 16 is very pleasurable, it is hindsight at best. Understanding of what to do with a partner increases of course. My first fumblings at school, nice though they were, are a far cry from nowadays. As an adult you know what you want and how to give pleasure to others. Sometime I wonder if somebody has me on fast forward as the years shoot by so quickly. As with all things, sex has to be learned. My first experiences on a motorbike weren’t that good, but now it’s second nature. Dad2 has always had a Harley and so for his 60th I bought the electric version for him. It takes a bit of getting used to after his Softail, mind. “Dad, is this on, there’s no sound” (It’s electric, you stupid girl.)

I have this slight mental block when it comes to being relaxed with anyone. It’s just a minor thing, no a-shaking and a-mumbling as if I would ever do that, but that indecisiveness could be construed as being shy and virginal (don’t laugh) and is a turn on for some, and if they’re happy, I’m happy.

Am I actually shy and virginal? Yes to both. Usually with partners I’ve known for a while I am just as normal as everyone else, and can just tumble into bed as easy as pie. I’m shy in the I’m-never-going-to-fuck-you-on-a-first-or-second-or-even-third-date type of way. Before lockdown 1 was chatting to a woman at the pool. She’s attractive, a little bit older than me, and has a habit of touching or stroking your arm when she’s talking to you. One day after her swim she approached and asked me out for a drink. I agreed but later wished I hadn’t. It seems by agreeing to that drink, I’d also agreed to fuck her that night after the visit to the pub. She turned up in a slinky dress which was over the top for just a pub, with me in my usual boots and blouse and jeans. We did have a nice chat though and were getting physically closer on the sofa. She did have nice eyes, and I can’t resist a good cleavage, but when I said I was off home she got all shirty. “I thought you would take me home”..no. Since then we’ve barely spoken. So did I misread the signs, or did she? There is absolutely no way I’d just jump into bed with someone on a first date. You’re on that date to discover if you are compatible for a longer time than just a fuck, surely?

This doesn’t mean at times I am not a complete predator, of course, Maria was about ten seconds away from those bushes! I can see a girl and the heat in my knicks is there instantly. I was on a train about a year ago when a young woman sat opposite me. She was wearing nothing special, I had no smile thrown my way, no eye contact, but she had such an effect on me that I was squirming until Durham, at which point I ran home in order to get my fingers into my now sodden knicks. The only thing that stopped me from letting my foot slide against hers under the table was the nearness of my stop. I have just fucked a girl without knowing her beforehand on a couple of occasions, a total stranger in a club, no names, just a primal come here and let me have you sort of thing. I once, and to my utter shame, licked a girl that I’d not known before entering the room. She was sat on the handwashing sinks in a club toilet, we clicked, then I was on my knees and between her legs as other women came and went. I mean it was a posh club toilet, carpet on the floor, but still…. is my halo slipping again? I did suffer a sore throat for a week afterwards for my sins. I then went back to where Abby and Ellie were sitting and kissed them both. “Taste me”. My apologies if the image you have of me isn’t what you thought! I can be made to perform such acts in public, well…a bus shelter on a deserted country road, at night, with no street lighting, by the right woman. And on the upper deck of a bus. And in the kitchen of a friend. And in Ellie’s parent’s bed. And in a confessional. And on the stairs to my apartment. Slut.


I’m a virgin, as if that makes a difference, although why it should continue to be used as a slur I don’t know. I respect somebody a lot if they save it for that special someone. There’s a man that works in my gym, let’s call him Ian. He’s 30, quite handsome, but has never had sex. He’s outgoing, funny, has lots of friends, goes out on lad’s nights, the works, but is quite loud in his defence of his virginity. One or two of the girls that work with us have said they’d be happy to relieve him of it, but he’s not going to until he’s at least engaged. Now that’s nice to see, at least I think so.

Women can so easily get a reputation, why shouldn’t men? And of course some men demand that the hymen is still intact in their new partner, well sorry, it’s not that black and white. I don’t have one. Anything can break it, and what does it matter? There is surgery to replace the hymen so you, as a prospective husband, don’t know if your virgin bride is as pure as the driven snow, or has been around the block a few times. A liar. The vain bimbo types that go for it… I think the term is gold-digger, or digga, as da boys in da hood say. Innit bruv.

And sorry boys, I just love a woman’s body. You’re designed to be a hunter-gatherer, we are the give-me-what-you’ve-brought-and-I’ll-cook-it-up types. “Is this it? A day’s hunting and all you have is this little sparrow, how’s this supposed to feed the ten of us? And can I smell drink on your breath? You’ve been down the pub while I’ve been cleaning the cave haven’t you?” Massive over-simplification there, Anna. Yes, but there are some massively over-simplified men that read this. Men’s bodies then. Take a simple thing such as the neck. We’re in general smooth, you in general have an Adam’s apple.. ugh. Then there are your genitals. Christ, where to start? As Ben Elton said, they might feel wonderful but they look bloody horrible. Admittedly some women’s can look pretty ragged as well. In my younger years, the expression welly boot top was used to describe a slapper, such as Katie “Jordan” Price. I realise that a little can be done about this, a general tidying up, but not shagging every bloke you see might help in the first place. So, again in general, we walk better, we talk better, we just look better. As has been explained previously, men can’t even kiss properly. Cue the complaints.

While I’ll happily use a strappy on a girl while it’s doing very little for me physically, the sight of her enjoying it gives my mental state no end of arousal. I don’t like one in me though. The twice I’ve tried it ..I don’t know, I just cant get into it, and this was with girls I love deeply. I’ve tried two sizes, one small, one slightly larger and neither did it for me. I did like to see it slowly slip inside, and the sight of fingers entering me is something I never tire of seeing. Hello small mirror! Toys have a similar effect on me, that is, very little. I’m a bit sensitive there, and a furiously buzzing vibe just annoys me. A much gentler one can be nice but is absolutely no substitute for a tongue and a mouth, or even a finger. The way lips slide is so sensual. You’ve more physical feedback for both people, the pressure, the angles, the choice of tongue or lips, suction on the clit, all can be changed.

I masturbate very day, as I’ve already told you in previous posts. I see it as me time, when I get in from the pool or after a shift at the charity shops. Some people crack open the wine when they get in from work, some a beer, well with me I turn on the shower. It can stretch to an hour or more, the bath being topped up with water from the showerhead. What I think about will change frequently. Maybe it was a girl at the pool, maybe somebody I’ve been chatting to, a thought that’s been in my head all day. I sometimes masturbate when online, but very rarely, and only with girls I have a connection with. The actual physics of this can be interesting. I’ve an overlay for both lappie and Mac keyboards, necessary for when it gets a little damp. Wet fingers are all well and good, but cleaning a keyboard can be tricky. Sitting at my desk or on the bed requires different positions. I usually kneel on the bed but sitting with the lappie between my legs is also good. For years I’ve sat on chairs cross legged anyway, so this is a great position for fun at the desk as well. Let’s not be coy. Fingering myself. Towels need to be brought, wipes, drinks. The video doorbell need to be set in case I need to speak to the postie so as not to leave my position… It’s amazing just how much time I put into this for so little time actually chatting and touching. There will be a few reading this that are thinking, well you’ve not done this with ME yet.. I know, but there is so little time after all the arrangements!

Ellie and I can have a session on Skype on the rare occasion when her roommate is away, but more on this in part two.

Then there’s the washing machine vibrations..sometimes! The tumble dryer is better, as it has a more rhythmic movement but doing this can be a problem, the hose getting everywhere and the machine takes up half the bed. Got to have some humour in sex, as I believe it helps anchor us to the fact that it is, after all, just sex. There is far too much written about sexual problems, perhaps if the writers spent a little bit more time actually enjoying it? Ask your partner what they want and like, it helps massively. Abby loves a massage before anything else, with candles lit everywhere. I have to take a shower with a partner beforehand, and it gets me wet in both ways. Ellie likes to build up for some time beforehand with dirty talk whilst smooching. Each to their own, but if you don’t talk then you’ll never find this out.


My sex education was a typical British schoolgirl’s affair..not much. Mum2 had sort of told me about the processes, but as she knew I liked girls even before I told her at 16, it was a redundant five minutes. After all, by this time in my life I had been in a dorm with other girls for four years, and had experienced a sex education that she would have no doubt not being able to comprehend. Can I say here what it was like? Probably not. It did instil in us an ability to be in our own beds when the morning bell rang and today I can wake up just before the alarm sounds. I still get a massive kick from watching two girls live, being there, in my bed. I have a big bed, a super king size, both in my Durham place and here. Getting the mattress in was a complete pain for the lads that delivered it. I just love the space it affords if there are more than two of us and even alone it’s a nice place to have the lappie and do some work.

All eight of us from the dorm have met up only three times since leaving school as we are scattered all over the world, but about every two months a few of us get together for a drink or meal or some fun. And yes, the school uniform gets to say hello. A few girls are married and as long as they are ok with telling their hubbies, I’m ok with that. If they aren’t then that’s not fair on their partners. Of course mention of husbands raises the question about them watching, I mean it’s never going to happen but then why would you want to watch your wife chat about wine, shoes and carbonara recipes to her friends?

What all of those early experiences don’t teach you about is the mental side of sex. I cant speak for hetero girls, but from what I’m told the act when young with a boy can be, and not always, not a good thing mentally. My experience was one of us being in that dorm, none of us being pushy, allowing anything to happen if it did. Boys though, pushy is in their nature. And if that pushiness develops into force, well with some girls the memories of their first times are bad so will affect how they interact with men in the future. My darling Ellie has something to say about this in her second post.

I was taught how to kiss, and much more, by Becky. To say she seduced me would be a lie, but she nearly did. All of the other girls had returned home for the weekend, the rain hoying it down, nobody in the dorm apart from us, when she came and sat on my bed. “You’re very pretty..can I kiss you” I hadn’t answered when her lips were on mine. Talk about a predator! She spent that afternoon teaching me and it’s one of my best memories from that time. That evening was the same, only this time she taught me how to touch another girl’s boobs. Just amazing. She was the girl that first touched mine, at least openly, and the first I touched other than my own. I can recall them being larger and firmer than mine, and the way she gasped will stay with me for ever. I say boobs rather than tits or breasts, get over it. The following day after church was spent teaching and learning, her the former and I the willing latter. There we have it, the tale of my lesbian virginity disappearing. She’s a married woman now with a teenaged daughter, and still teases me about being such a shy little thing whenever we meet. She asked me to be godmother to her daughter, despite me telling her husband and I over and over again that god and I don’t get on, so how could I stand in a church and promise to protect her baby from the devil? In the end her hubby relented and they chose somebody else. Now her daughter calls me auntie Anna, but that would probably stop if she knew what her mum and I have done.


So there we were, little sluts in our own universe. At the time Ellie’s dorm was nothing like ours, there being only a couple of girls actively “doing stuff” and it seems from the five dorms ours was the sluttiest. This behaviour emboldened us outside of school as well. I stayed at Abby’s frankly scary old house on a sleepover, and we wasted no time in the bed-based antics. We would go to Newcastle and Durham and try to be served in pubs. Looking back it’s the sort of behaviour I hate nowadays! We thought we knew everything, but it was only when Ellie and I had sex for the first time that I realised that nothing that had happened before was even slightly comparable.

It may have been the fact that it was in a hotel, away from the school environment where there had always been others about, and away from our homes. The pressure to find a quiet spot for our first time led me to ask mum2 to book us a room. I spun her some line about clubbing and we’d be out late and didn’t want to bother her coming in at 4 in the morning… Of course she knew what was going to happen sooner or later. She’s always been able to see right through me. She sat me down and said “Just nod. Are you going to have sex?” I nodded, my face burning. “I’m not going to ask why or who with”, she had said, “but treat them nicely”. Treat them nicely is her mantra when it comes to anybody.

By far the biggest part of the difference this time, at least in my mind, was that Ellie and I were girlfriends, it was love that made the difference. I’d whispered “I love you” to her on the phone earlier that week, not having the nerve to say it that morning face to face. How do you know when you’re in love? What is love? How do you define what you feel for a person? For me it wasn’t a lightning bolt moment, just a slow realisation of knowing she was my best friend one week, and that had been joined by something entirely different over the next two weeks. It’s maybe the only time I’ve been entirely confused in my life.

Ellie will tell you that she knew her own situation from the moment she and I were on the beach, right before she kissed me. I should have responded there and then. That day was a huge one for her as you’ll find out in a future post, and I should have been more receptive. I’d had more than a few naughty thoughts about her as I’ve said in other posts, including one earth shattering orgasm whilst in bed, which caused dad2 to knock and ask if I was ok as he’d heard a scream and a bang as my phone fell off the bed. She was always on my mind. It turned out that I was only about a week away from feeling differently about her anyway. What wasn’t to like about this angel lying on the sand next to me? I knew she was a sexy little thing and she was incredibly popular. As a teenager your senses are acutely aware as to what others are looking at and saying about you as you pass them. We were always paying each other compliments about our hair, smile, bodies. We were getting lots of looks from others, each thinking it was the other that the boys were looking at. Her body was the type I fantasied about. I felt good when were were in public together, a look-at-my-gorgeous-friend sort of thing. But of course, I didn’t do anything about that kiss but make a joke of it and run away.

Checking into the Hilton in Gateshead after our first date, I was so excited that I could barely sign my name. Mum2 had booked us the best room they had. In the lift to our floor our hands were in each others knicks. Her hair wet, the little make-up she wore smudged by the kissing and the rain, my own the same. We must have looked a mess. As we undressed each other, my heart was banging so loudly I swear she could hear it. And I’d thought that terror in asking her out had been bad! Her little boobs were and still are fantastic, her puss smooth, wet, mirroring mine. Ellie gave me my first multiple orgasm that night, I mean I’d had the sort of orgasms that get your toes curling before but nothing like this. I passed out for a few seconds, cried, then passed out again. A come-coma, the first of many. She enjoyed herself as well, having her very first tongue-powered orgasm, followed by two more. You don’t know how proud I was! We’d not even noticed the champagne and snacks mum2 had organised for us until much later. There was also a card reading, “For Anna and Ellie”. It’s a good job she was the one I took there, really!

Part two will follow soon.

As ever, thanks for reading.

Anna

Tynemouth

x

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