Chapter 2

When I was fourteen, several months away from my fifteenth birthday, I had sex for the first time. It was nearly Christmas and this boy named Willie in my form at school had asked me to the movies. I’d never gone on a date before, so I said yes, since he seemed decent enough, and we went out the following Saturday. The film was good enough and he was a perfect gentleman the whole time, so I let him walk me home. His hair was a light golden colour, and long, and he had nice dark chocolate eyes. Snow was falling when we stopped at the front stoop.

‘Thanks for a nice time,’ I said politely, and he smiled nervously and leaned in to give me a little peck, which was all right. It wasn’t my first kiss, but I hadn’t had that many, to be honest. When we pulled away, with the light from the step shining from behind him, it looked like he had a halo of golden curls. Something about that made me look at him differently. This time, I kissed him, a little longer, and said, ‘Did you want to come in for a cup of tea or something?’ He nodded yes and we went upstairs. I switched the light on and filled the kettle, and we sat at the sofa in silence for a minute before he tried to kiss me again. I let him, even though I was starting to get the idea that he wasn’t really good at it, and let him push me back gently into the sofa. He was lying on top of me and squirming a bit, and nobody was home, and I felt his erection, the surprising soft-hardness of it, against my thigh. And I thought, what the hell? Alex does it all the time. Why not me? And I sat up and pulled my shirt off. Willie looked like a deer in the headlights when I did that—his eyes got very big, and his face got red. I don’t think he’d imagined anything like this on a first date, not that I planned to go out with him again. I had no romantic feelings for him at all.

‘Just a minute,’ I said, and for some reason I got up and switched off the lights, small breasts bouncing as I did. In the shadows, with his curly hair and featureless face, he could’ve been anyone. I wedged myself under him on the sofa again, letting him kiss me and squeeze my breasts—somewhat painfully, I might add—and edge his fingers underneath my skirt. Willie had no idea what to do, and I surmised that he was a virgin, although when I asked him about it, he claimed not to be. It did feel sort of nice to be under him, and the hot feeling of his erection through his boxers (he’d removed his pants when I got up to turn off the light) did excite me. His kisses were getting sloppier and sloppier, and he was squirming and moving more vigorously against me now.