Week 2 of the Erotic Journal challenge is about the discovery of our sexuality and ourselves as sexual beings. This week’s Wicked Wednesday is about the technical aspects of sex. This post will attempt to combine the two.
I first met my future husband when he moved to live opposite us. He was 11 and I was 7. Our mothers were friendly, though not exactly friends. However we did play in each others houses when one of the mums visited for a cuppa. By the time I was a teenager and he was leaving school our mums both worked and so any contact was pretty accidental. I did like him, but he wasn’t one of the boys I fancied back then, they tended to go to my school and he had gone elsewhere.
Soon before my 16th birthday, during the half term before my o’levels he phoned and asked me over to his place to sun bathe. It was a hot May day and his family were out, we sat in the garden and chatted. I didn’t take much account of the heat of the sun and returned home a little burnt. The next day he took me to London for the day. We had fun, walked miles and ate strawberries and ice cream. My usually good appetite deserted me and my tummy was full of butterflies, all day long. The aroma of the soap he used and the aftershave he wore was very alluring. This was the first boy who I think turned me on without actually touching or kissing me. Though of course, within days there were kisses.
Over the ensuing months we spent a lot of time together, both out with friends and on our own and in doors. Spending time in my bedroom alone together was pretty much frowned on and anyway I had an annoying younger brother who tended to burst in. But his parents seemed more relaxed about things. So we often spend hours in his room, lying on the bed listening to music. We never took off all of our clothes but did strip down to underwear, touch and kiss.
“Don’t come back pregnant”
I would lie with his leg between mine and he would flex his quadricep muscle. This believe it or not, was enough to get me off, though I’m not sure if I actually orgasmed. I touched him outside and inside his pants and found the whole thing pretty daring. But we didn’t attempt to have sex. I was pretty happy with what we were doing and didn’t feel the need for more right then.
When I was 17 we decided to take a holiday to Jersey. My parents weren’t overly keen on us going away on our own, but didn’t try to stop us. But on the departure day as we were leaving my mum came to me as I finished packing. “Your dad isn’t happy about you going away with B and all I can say is please don’t come pregnant”
I was pretty indignant. She didn’t know if we were sexually active or not and I didn’t take kindly to the suggestion I was stupid enough to get pregnant. B and I slept together, but didn’t attempt to have sex. The holiday though was fabulous, mainly because we could do what we wanted without parents being present.
The challenges of having sex
In October 1980, another year later, I went off to begin my nursing career. We all lived in tiny rooms in the nurses home and were watched upon by a hawk of a home sister. She was a spinster, who had spent her entire career in nursing and later managing the home. Boyfriends could visit but were meant to be out by midnight. However there were ways to smuggle people in and out and so we ignored that rule.
B was a frequent visitor especially at weekends. At last a door that could be closed and locked. Reasonably thick walls and some anonymity. At last, after 2 years together we finally took the plunge and had actual sex with penetration. Well we tried to anyway, since our first couple of attempts were failures. I owned no toys and had never so much as slipped my own fingers into my vagina. I am not even sure he had either and when it came to trying to sick his hard cock inside me we struggled. We had no real idea about positions or what might work for us and less idea about how difficult (or easy) it should be.
I resorted to consulting with my closest student friend who was already engaged to a sailor and she offered me some friendly advice. Essentially to keep trying and not get frustrated. The following weekend we tried again. Helped along by a bottle of wine and the knowledge that we needed to relax more, eventually we made it happen.
Sex during marriage
Looking back, sex with B wasn’t all it could have been. Soon after we married I bought a copy of the joy of sex which at least offered some help on positions. We tried many and had fun doing so, but I often felt I could take or leave it. My nursing job was demanding and I worked shifts. Even when I was in the mood, there seemed to be something missing but I didn’t know what it was. Within 4 or 5 years he was having an affair with an older woman which for a while helped us, since he had learned some new techniques. But when I discovered the affair my view of him changed. I never again trusted him and I was somehow turned off by him. We carried on having sex for the remainder of our marriage, but not for enjoyment.
When I was in my 30’s I bought my first sex toys and had my first real orgasms. But these happened when I was alone or when he was asleep rather than as something we shared.
I was almost 50 when I first orgasmed during PIV sex and since then I haven’t really looked back sexually. I feel sad about my sex life with B and that we were never able to fulfil each other in the way we should. Perhaps we were never really compatible as sexual partners. Or perhaps the mistake was in carrying on past our 20s. But I don’t regret meeting him or marrying him or having a child together. I just wish we had been better at communicating and been more honest about our needs. Thankfully he has also found someone new and I hope their sex life is better than ours ever was.