25 APRIL 2015 –

             What is a delicate way to describe my first intimate encounter with a man ... ?  Hmm.

I suppose I shall have to start with my first intimate encounter with a boy ...

            I like to kiss.  Let's get that out of the way.  I have to say my first indication that boys might be good for something after all involved kissing.  It came during a school dance when I was 15.  I attended an all-girls school and my first crush (age 16) attended an all-boys.

            The dance had been arranged by the two schools.  My body had been playing funny tricks on me for some time.  When I first saw this boy from across the room, surrounded by friends, I could tell that he was cute and funny.  He also made my body think he was physically attractive.

            This young man seemed to think the same about me.  Soon we were dancing, and then enjoying some (non-alcoholic) punch.  Unlike the others, he was the first boy who ever really smiled at me, and then wanted to hold my hand.  He seemed strong and confident, and when he invited me to "go outside and get some air", I readily agreed. 

            Big mistake, believe me.  And I lernt just how big.  This boy was really was a great kisser, and as soon as we were alone he showed me just how great.  Against my will, my body started playing those annoying "tricks" again.  Part of me got all gushy.  My nipples got all hard.

            I was mortified.  I didn't know what was happening, and I was sure he thought there was something terribly wrong with me.  But of course he didn't.  Instead, he embraced me and gave me what turned out to be one of the best snogs of my life. 

            According to my friends, I had developed rather early, and we all knew by then that amongst the major differences between men and women are breasts.  (And of course the bulge in a man's trousers – but that is a different story.)  I did not yet appreciate this young man's bulge.

            I should have.  I had initially thought that for whatever strange reason, this cute young man had decided to care about me.  But I was sadly mistaken.  It took me only a few moments to realise that much to my distress, he actually seemed to care only about my body.

            Things happened very quickly.  As we snogged there in the moon-light, and other couples all around us did the same, he was suddenly caressing my breasts.  I have to admit that in their present super-sensitive condition it felt wonderful.  He was also provoking my lady-bits.

            But then he made the big mistake of the evening.  Whilst his confidence was to be admired and might have led to more, um, interesting adventures, he took that moment to release one of my breasts and guide my hand down to the huge bulge in his trousers.

            He felt warm and hard.  I felt as if I had been kicked by a horse.  I withdrew and slapped

him just as hard as I possibly could.  He mumbled some awkward apology and departed, leaving me to wonder.  Why was the difference between our bodies suddenly so interesting to me?

            I have to tell you that the answer to that question eluded me for years ...