One of the many reasons I love to read Southern Belle’s blog posts is her absolute and complete honesty. It may be Sex Week, but yet again she doesn’t disappoint, with an incredibly open look back at her sexual history, and an interesting take on the adaptations sexually-experienced women need to make when bedding a new partner.
Viva Sex Week!
Miss Twenty-Nine xxx
When Miss Twenty Nine announced we were doing a Sex Week on the blog, instead of a more orthodox Love Week to coincide with Valentines’ day, I was a bit lost.
I’ve already given you some of my funniest stories and some of the others are so typical that I don’t think they’d make good reading.
Some are micropenis stories. We’ll see how far I get …
I lost my virginity at 16 to my 24 year-old boyfriend, The Engineer. Yes, yes, he was much older than I. At the time it didn’t seem weird at all – we met at a Regatta, he picked up a piece of kit that I’d dropped and we chatted as I loaded the boat back onto the racks.
Long story short we took each other’s numbers, spoke a lot, dated, and my parents were horrified by his age until they met him and realized that Dumbo a greater predator. He was a sweet guy – incredibly intelligent, an engineer and a virgin. Our first time was very.. meh.
We loved each other and all but I think first times are always better when someone knows what the hell is going on. He was a very keen student and studied all sorts to make things better, so our sex became great over time. I learnt at 16 what it takes some people years to learn: communication is key. We talked about sex constantly and had very frank conversations about what did/didn’t work.
Do not bite my clit. It hurts. Yes, you may have seen that in a magazine but I do not have that kind of flexibility. No, I’m not going to scream the entire time.. that’s faked, unless you’re hurting me, in which case stop immediately. It doesn’t bend that way? Ok. Do not bite on balls. Nibbling works. Nipples are surprisingly sensitive? Excellent. I can make you hard by smiling at you? AWESOME. The Engineer asked me to shave, discovered I had no functional gag reflex (It’s very useful), had sex with me outside, inside and on things. We used toys, experimented to our hearts content and learned that orgasms aren’t everything but damn, they’re a lot of fun.
We dated for just over a year before he was offered a job in Canada, which he was going to turn down to be with me in Worcester. At 17, I knew better than to have someone make a massive career decision based on me, so we decided to break up and he moved away.
The problem this created was that I was heads and shoulders more “experienced” than other girls and boys my age. I think it’s a universally accepted fact that boys are less mature, but I found 19/20/21 year-olds to be fumbling, groping morons who just .. didn’t turn me on.
It was no surprise to my friends or family that my next boyfriend was older again. The IT Manager was 30 years old and lived in London. Again, we’d met randomly – he was on a business trip and he’d passed me his number in a pub. His confidence and the smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing were intoxicating.
I’ve always been eager to learn new things, and after The Engineer had a pretty good idea of what was what. And yet The IT Manager was so much more. He loved my eagerness and drive, and that I knew about my body and what to do with it, and so he taught me more. Much more.
It basically became his mission to teach me everything and experience everything so I could state my preference with knowledge, rather than be scared of something new and strange. In a safe and loving environment, we tried everything. We bought underwear and all kinds of sex toys. He took me to strip clubs and classes, had his lesbian friend come over to show me a thing or two, we went to a private swingers party in London, and to a BDSM party in London.
His preferences were outdoors/voyeuristic/controlling. I had sex on the London Eye when it opened. I’ll never be able to travel through Oxford train station without blushing. I stopped wearing panties under skirts at his request and that’s … a lot of fun. It was a fabulous time in my life and it did exactly what he wanted it to: it taught me what I like and don’t like, and that experimenting with someone you love is the best way to have a passionate and healthy physical relationship.
You’ll probably be laughing when I say this, but because the IT Manager had treated this experimentation so casually, I really didn’t consider it to be a big deal or indeed, class myself as particularly kinky.
To the outside world and my girlfriends however, I could have given Billie Piper in Secret Diary of a Call Girl a run for her money. I tried a LOT.
Reading Miss Twenty Nine’s post about numbers, I laughed and laughed. I’ve never had trouble with the numbers conversation just because honestly? I don’t remember! So I don’t have the conversation.
In the first three years of my sexual life I had sex with my two boyfriends… but there were some girls in there. And some people watching. And.. well, you get the idea. In University, my skill-set became somewhat suspicious. In telling a very abbreviated version of the story about the IT Manager to a guy, you’d have thought I was a character from The Story of O.
I did not choose to lie about myself but in my experience, boys liked it better when we came up with things together rather than imagine who on earth taught me to do the special twisty thing.
I had less experience in terms of numbers than 3 or 4 of my girlfriends put together, but that didn’t stop the guys I liked feeling threatened by what had come (teehee) before them.
This of course, is when I was in the early years of University.
I took a break between my second and third years of Uni to work as a Restaurant bar manager and earn money so that I didn’t have to work 50 hours a week on top of my Uni workload.
The crew of people who ran the restaurant with me were your normal hospitality types. Fun loving, hard-working, completely depraved and people who talked about sex all the time. Heaven. I was not a weirdo in this crowd at all and I found out by talking to the guys who worked there about the best way to approach sex with less adventurous guys.
I was, it seems, completely correct with my earlier assumption of it being a “new” idea for the both of us.
So that’s what I’ve done in every relationship.
Started out with everything hidden away, and gradually brought out things that I’d like to do with that person, until it ramps up to being as good as I want it to be. There haven’t been too many (any!) complaints so far. It’s annoying though.
If a man is good in bed, women are just so happy (believe me guys, we really are) that we don’t think about who taught him this, who showed him that – we see him as a considerate and generous individual.
Women who are good in bed are seen as potentially promiscuous sluts.
Fast forward to the present day and I’m single, but completely against the principle of one night stands. I’ve had too many experiences of something that’s just not going to get better, for it to ever be worth it.
I am however, having the best sex of my life with my best friend.
We’ve known each other for five years. He’s been with me through all of the disasters you’ve come to know me for and I love him dearly.
What’s good about the sex? Communication.
This is a repetitive theme. We’ve known each other for a long time so we are completely comfortable together, but it was amazing the first time as well, because we talked to each other and guided each other.
I discovered a long time ago that I’m happier giving rather than receiving, but my friend? He’s all about giving too. Forceful giving.
We are limited by circumstance on the frequency of our naked friendship, but text each other all day when we know we’re going to see each other, and tell each other exactly what we’re going to do.
He loves pretty underwear, so do I. He tells me that I’m the most beautiful thing in the world and treats me with complete respect (and occasionally awe), but also has no problem telling me to keep still and shut up, or he’s going to tie me to the bed and never stop.
I rarely make it three paces into his house before there’s crazy kissing and groping and clothes flying, but we’ll also lie curled up together and take time to stroke and know everything going on with each other’s bodies.
We switch roles between who’s in charge with complete ease, and talk all the time about fantasies and must-do-nexts.
I’m never scared of telling him anything that I want, because he’s my best friend and he already knows all this about me. My story. What I’ve learned.
But I think fear is what stops people from having great sex all the time.
You rarely have sex with strangers, so don’t want there to be hurt feelings.
It’s like an audition! No-one wants to flunk it.
But fear can stop you acting like your real self.
You don’t want to be the person that scares the other or does something the other doesn’t like.
So why not talk about it in a sexy way and lower expectations rather than set a crazy porn star-like first impression of multiple orgasms, and then have to keep up the pretence, rather than just telling him that actually, you don’t enjoy your cervix being smashed into 1000 pieces. That shit just hurts.
Let’s stop being scared, talk to each other and start having fantastic sex.
All the time.