Wham! Bam! Thankyou Ma'am

After two and a half hours, the film had finished, though neither I nor my companion had taken much notice after the first twenty minutes or so, engaged in other distractions as we were. Despite my strong desire not to leave her alone, Rachel slept on a mattress in my sister's room, no doubt after an interrogation from sis regarding our activities under the blanket. I reluctantly found my way to my bedroom, and though I was excited in a way I can't remember experiencing before, I did get to sleep, after scratching a particular itch until it was soothed.

The following morning I awoke after ten, which, considering I had only gone to sleep at five a.m., was an astounding feat. But as soon as I was even close to conscious, I remembered Rachel's smooth skin and soft lips; her warm, receptive flesh; her insistent kisses. I was up, dressed and in the kitchen earlier than my parents had ever seen on a Saturday morning, at least since I had hit puberty and somewhat lost interest in pre-dawn cartoons. And there she was, at the table, eating breakfast with my sister, who rolled her eyes when she caught the cheeky smile Rachel was giving me.

"You're up early" my mother commented "Though I don't think your brother will be joining us any time soon". She was only half angry, I think she was more amused at his incapable state, and I suppose hoping he would learn some sort of lesson from his unenviable condition. I don't think he did. Not that night. Not for years afterwards.

I joined my sister at the table and sat opposite Rachel, who concentrated on her breakfast, sneaking sideways looks at my sister, and occasionally headlong looks at me. Mum was not oblivious to her gaze, and I thought I caught a smirk on her face at one point, then she excused herself and took herself outside into the garden. I assume she remembered being young herself, probably the first time I'd really considered it in my life. A strange thought that was interrupted by my sister's voice.

I'm going over to Rach's tonight..." she said, looking at her friend

"Do you want to come too?" Rachel blurted out before my sister could reconsider her position

"Yeah, sure" I said, with what I thought was an appropriate level of nonchalance "that would be cool"

We made our way from our middle-suburban home to that of Rachel's mother, in a far more expensive and much older suburb closer to the city. Her mother was divorced, and was entertaining her boyfriend at home that evening, because it was late in the day when we arrived. Her mother seemed quietly detached about her eldest daughter bringing home a gawky teenage boy, but I think her interest was focussed on her other male guest for the night.

We ate, and I did my best to make "adult" conversation during the meal, eventually we retired to Rachel's bedroom, and we were entwined in each others' arm and legs on her double bed (which had secretly impressed me, as none of my friends had "grown-up" beds). Meanwhile my sister tried to ignore us by watching the TV in the corner of the room. She eventually announced her retirement, and after finding her way to the guest bedroom, Rachel deftly covered our bodies with her quilt that had been pushed up against the wall.

I was busy getting my sweaty hands inside her clothes, and was surprised that she not only offered the apparently obligatory resistance I was used to, but made similar efforts with mine. Older women were a foreign country to me. By this point I was on a hair trigger, and after exploring this unknown territory for what must have been an hour or more, I was pretty sure I was providing her with appropriate stimulation. She reached into her bedside table drawer and her hand returned with a small plastic envelope, containing a small latex envelope which was for me to use.

I'd like to say it was wonderful. I'd like to say it was the most amazing experience of my life. I'd like to say I took her to places she'd never been in hers. But I'd be lying. Once I was actually in position, it took only a few thrusting contractions of my over-enthused hips, and the pulsing sensation of her pelvic floor, the prophylactic was firmly in the "used" category. I rolled off her, and she stroked my hair, and sighed, and I snuggled my head into the crook of her arm. And drifted to sleep, with one thought in my head. I wasn't a virgin any more.