Dear diary

And actually sexy, not just pretty like my past girls. It was just in her aura… she was smoldering hot. A real, raunchy naughty look about her. Blonde curly hair, small, impossible gravity defying perky breasts with tiny nipples. A small, smooth, round and firm little backside and skin with the softness that it can only have at 15 years of age. To me, she was perfection personified. I idolized Leanne. My Dad went away on business for two nights and Leanne spent the whole night in my bed. This bed. By my standards of that time, it was truly torrid. Hot and fun, and my first real discovery of premature ejaculation. Sadly, my virginity survived the night intact. Nerves and lack of initiative on both our parts. Or, so I assumed. Three days later, Leanne broke up with me. Bored, I guess. She went straight out with some guy three years older than us and her friends told me had lost her virginity within days. Slut. My only conclusion, I hadn’t been forceful enough. She’d wanted it, but wanted me to be the man, expected me to take her. Not wait for her. God I felt such a pussy. I had always kind of known that she was slightly out of my league, at that age at least, and she proved me right. My first ever real example of the phrase, ‘nice guys finish last’.

I was heart broken. I now see it with indifferent eyes, but I remember that pain. I felt guilty from Natalie now too. For some time the night time x-rated mental movies of Leanne and me were replaced by the horror films of Leanne and Dean. That fucking council-estate, pierced-eared-prick, Dean. But with time, and the occasional affections of Trudy when lonely, Leanne disappeared and the prime time spot of my night time fantasies was given back to it’s rightful owner. Lizzy Orgood. The unattainable Lizzy. My Venus. Two years older than me, and so totally unaware of the stirrings she caused in me.

Then a quiet patch, as far as I can remember. Latter puberty didn’t really help me much. Spots, a breaking voice and the general unpleasantness of the ‘half hairy, half greasy’ pubescent body didn’t help my sex appeal. The odd snog here and there with various random girls at discos, one or two ridiculous childish dates between kids with no money to spend. But the closer I got to my 16th birthday, the more I was convinced that I’d be the last human on earth to still be a virgin. I did manage to date Gayle Russell, by far the most beautiful and coveted girl in my whole school. Daughter of a millionaire and body of a bikini model. But it was weird, I never knew what she wanted with me, and it lasted exactly four days. Our fling contained 17 full-on snogs. Day two, she let me cop a proper feel under her blouse, and I’ll never forget those tits. But generally, my eye was just a little off the ball. In fact, it was mostly on Lizzy Orgood. We weren’t even really friends any more, I was just someone she knew. In retrospect, probably just some geeky younger kid who creeped her out. Then Cheryl arrived. She had been in my year at school for years, and one day I just noticed her. I never understood it. She’d always been there… and then one day, I just SAW her. She was pretty plain, and perhaps even slightly boyish. Jaw length hair, thin, but again with small tits. I’d always dreamed of great big tits. At night my fantasies were full of round breasted, busty females, but I always ended up with girls with small ones. I like to think I was just adult enough to see past breast size. Probably that was just the best I could do at the time.

Cheryl and I were serious. Our personalities meshed so well, and we had such fun. We’d go to music concerts, we’d spend all our weekends together. We’d go on bike rides in the country, and stop and just make out for hours in a field. The first night she stayed over, she fell asleep with her fingers around my cock and I hardly slept at all. 6 weeks later Cheryl and I finally gave our virginities to each other. On this bed. Clumsy, messy and unsurprisingly brief. After a few minutes of perfunct foreplay, I forced myself into a condom and moments later slipped inside Cheryl. It wasn’t electric, it wasn’t incredible, not even terribly romantic, but it was nice. I came inside her after all of about 120 seconds, but we both made the best of it. I loved Cheryl, and from that day on we set out on a whole new voyage of discovery together. We had lots of childish basic sex, and at every available opportunity. Our lives revolved around each other’s genitals. It took time for us to get good at it. We had everything to discover, and we were both in such a rush. Privately I would read magazines, watch films, get ideas of stuff to try, but could rarely talk to her about it, feeling I had to appear to just know it. I knew she did this too.

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