Chapter 3: And There It Was Gone

In romance novels losing your virginity is accompanied by cherubs blowing trumpets as you are laid on a bed of rose petals. The deflowering is done in a gentle and loving way, giving you fantastic memories of that moment that you can cherish for the rest of your life. Of course, the man taking your most intimate gift is dashing and handsome, probably a prince or a film star at the very least. Reality isn’t like that, trust me I know.

“Please Julie, I won’t tell anyone I promise.”

I was with what I guess you could describe as my steady boyfriend, that is if you count two months as a ‘steady’ relationship. He was also my first serious boyfriend, and we had been into heavy petting and touching for a while. I never told him about mine and Kim’s pub escapades but had bought into play some of the skills I had learnt.

We were outside the school club, which in reality was a brick hut where the boys could play pool or table tennis while the girls stood around watching them. Once a week there was a disco where the boys would wait until a slow record came on and then grab the girls, hoping to press their cocks into your tummy while sticking their tongue in your ear.

Once you got a boyfriend then the next step was ‘making out’ which generally happened in the gloom outside or round the back of the club against the wall. That’s where I was, snogging with my boyfriend as he groped me as much as I would let him.

I liked Kevin Stanley, I liked him a lot. He was funny, very dishy (well to me he was) and acted like he loved me. OK, he did have a tendency to beg and whine like a little puppy dog but that was only because he wanted to ‘go all the way.”

I am sure there are many things it is called all over the world, but when I grew up having sex with a boy was called, ‘going all the way’. This was a big step as clearly you would become instantaneously pregnant and be disgraced not only throughout the school but also in the eyes of your parents. The solution to this was the magic condom or rubber johnny, or whatever name you wanted to call it ... and that was the boy’s responsibility to provide.

For many girls my age back then the question became the ultimate birth control and this killer question was, “Have you got a johnny?” If the answer was ‘no’ then sex was out of the question and even if they said ‘yes’ then an inspection took place to ensure it was undamaged in its wrapper. Of course, most boys at 14 couldn’t get condoms from the shops and as it was 100% their job to do, so they heard a lot of ‘nos’.