Anne Woodward

Don’t be fooled by the peony – in my garden at home – it’s a pretty photo to disguise the filth you’re about to read…It’s not a true story, but you know, there may be elements of truth hidden within the lines.

Fifty years ago today, I lost my virginity. I’d imagined it so many times: soft lights, a gentle breeze through the open window, romantic music. The significant other changed daily–I was 16 for heavens’ sake–but the scenario stayed the same.

Reality came (which is more than I did) as a shock. My amour, let’s call him Dick just to be appropriate, at 17 had all the sophistication of an alley-cat. But to me, Dick embodied manliness and experience, so I ditched my dreams.

Poor Dick. Maybe he felt the weight of my expectations as I did his weight when he covered me. I didn’t confess I’d never seen a penis. Not a real one. My brother’s didn’t count.

I think it was the way I stared that put Dick on edge. He said he was fine with me being a virgin. In fact, he’d grinned in a manner which reminded me of a shark eyeing his breakfast. I couldn’t decide if it was fear or desire zinging through me.

Dick gave me a perfunctory kiss on the lips, muttered something in my ear, and pushed himself between my legs. I tried not to giggle, honestly I did, but his breath on my ear sent goosebumps careering down my neck. I almost broke Dick’s jaw when my shoulder ricocheted of its own accord and slammed into him.

Undeterred (his focus impressed me, to be honest), Dick probed for the correct orifice without using his hands, his penis brushing against me with apparent patience. He seemed in no hurry to climb aboard.

I gazed around the room while I waited for him to take the plunge. In the corner of the room, a grey mouse sat on its haunches. It stopped nibbling whatever it held in its paws, and we made eye contact.

Our connection was severed by Dick’s success, and I became suddenly aware of the pressing need to pee.

I gasped, hoicked myself up on my elbows and head-butted poor Dick mid-thrust.

Needless to say, our tryst was at an end.

The good folk at Accident and Emergency said he hadn’t suffered concussion, and they did a terrific job of his stitches.