Girl on the Net

A few weeks ago, Mary wrote the first in her three-part story about virginity. It began with A, a guy she met on Tinder, moved swiftly through some sexy outdoor fumbles, and into a Travelodge with lube and sandwiches.

Now she’s back with the third part of her story, to let you know what happened next.

Massive thank you to Mary for writing the series: one of the reasons I love hosting guest bloggers is that it shows me a whole bunch of different perspectives. While I can bang on about what ‘virginity’ means to me, or tell you stories about first times of my own, I don’t own a monopoly on sex, and if it were just me shouting my fantasies into the void then this blog would be a really boring (and probably slightly creepy) place.

So. Read parts one and two of Mary’s story, get stuck in to part three, and if you have an experience or perspective on something that you’d like to share, please do pitch me a guest blog for 2016.

24-year-old virgin, part 3: the climax

Cars can go from 0-60 in about 4 seconds. I went from virgin to a woman extremely comfortable with bondage and BDSM in about 3 days.

Because I don’t get to see A on a regular basis, smartphones and laptops are brilliant for keeping us firmly on edge. Sexting is great, and A took to it like a duck to water, as it was something he hadn’t really done until he met me. Cam sex though? God, I’m cringing just remembering it. We were FaceTiming, he didn’t have any clothes on, then I didn’t have any on, there was an attempt at us both wanking but we had to stop, acknowledge that it was the most awkward we’d both felt since meeting, panned the cameras back up to our faces and then carried on chatting about the Great British Bake Off as if nothing had happened.

I was extremely eager to be dominated by A. I’m a fairly strong character in my everyday life, so there was an excitement around surrendering to someone that I trusted implicitly. I told him what I wanted, but not when. Walking out of the bathroom, A sat me down on the side of the bed, my heart almost beating out of my chest.
He took a roll of bondage tape from his suitcase, binding my wrists tightly behind me. I stood up, and was pushed me to my knees, A twisting my hair around his knuckles, guiding my mouth towards his throbbing cock. I looked up at him, smiled and began to kiss and lick gently along the shaft, tasting precum against my lips as I wrapped them around his sensitive head.

After a few minutes of this, with the hold on my ponytail getting gradually tighter, I was pulled up from the floor and roughly pushed up against the cold wall. A moved his head to my breasts, taking each of my nipples in turn roughly between his teeth. He then put his hands on my waist and spun me around. Dropping to his knees, he pulled my knickers down and I stepped out of them. With one hand on each cheek, A dug his fingertips in, spreading them and then ran one finger across my arsehole. I could feel the tip working its way inside me, the sensation sending shivers up my spine and drawing a moan from my mouth. From where I was standing, I could watch exactly what he was doing in mirror on the back of the door. Even though my hands were still bound, I was able to run my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, his tongue gently sliding into my cunt, his saliva mixing with what was already running down my thighs.

As my face flushed, he stood up, released my wrists and pushed me onto the bed, pressing a blindfold into my hand. I pulled it down over my eyes, but shut them tight, in order to heighten my other senses.

• The sound of him walking round the bed
• The clinking of the restraints as he picked them up
• The Velcro as he undid them
• The feel of the soft padded fabric around my ankles and wrists
• The jerk of my legs as he pulled the restraints tighter
• The soft tickle of feathers being run across my sensitive nipples
• The smell of my cunt as he gently pushed my favourite dildo inside of me
• The breath catching in my throat as I asked him to speed up
• Him ordering me to come
• And the sound of my cunt juices gushing out of me as I did exactly as he asked all over the duvet, breathless, sweaty but absolutely thrilled.

My foray into BDSM taught me some key things, such as: always read the instructions. There’s no such thing as “too busy getting busy” to not do so. This is particularly important if you are including FIRE in the bedroom. We didn’t, so I was soon screaming “Ow, ow, fucking ow” as A poured a massage candle onto my back without having extinguished the flame. This led to a slightly burnt arse crack, which killed the mood somewhat.

Also, “lickable candles” are not a thing. They taste disgusting. Trust me.

Safewords are your best friend if you’re trying something new, or want to see just how far you can push your limits. Agree on a word that’s unlikely to come up in your general conversation. Ours is “plodding”, because I know you’re curious. I’ve only had to use it once so far, but it brought everything to a halt immediately, and we were totally fine.

So it turns out that my first experience of getting frisky in public all those weeks ago was not my last. There’s just something incredibly hot about getting caught doing something, particularly as I’m usually risk averse. A and I had popped into the pub for a couple of afternoon drinks, deciding to sit in a room with a glass wall on one side, on some stools at a particularly high table, which had a wooden panel instead of legs, meaning you can’t see what’s going on underneath.

We took advantage of this, with A moving his stool as close to mine as possible, and me resting my feet on the edge of the rung. I’d worn a long denim dress with my pleather shorts, but they were immediately pushed aside as A brushed his thumb across my clit and slid his fingers inside my already soaking cunt. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to conceal the fact that somebody is fingering you in public, but it’s very tricky. I kept reaching for my drink, sipping whenever I could feel a moan building up, which was fairly often.

As I could feel the ball of heat building in the pit of my stomach, about to travel directly to where his fingers were, I had to beg him to stop.

“What‽ You’re mad!” I hear you cry.

Perhaps. But I couldn’t be sure that I wasn’t going to squirt when I came, and that would have meant a very awkward clean up attempt, and an inevitable ban from our local. I did not want to have to explain why I was trailing liquid all the way to the bathroom.

What I didn’t realise was that there was an older lady in the room opposite who was at such an angle that she could definitely see what we were up to, thanks in part to that glass partition wall. I’m still hoping that she was too engrossed in celebrating her daughter’s graduation to notice out of the corner of her eye the girl getting increasingly flushed, and biting her lip in sheer pleasure.

I don’t feel guilty about my desires, or let A feel guilty for his either. If he’s not into it, or not up for trying it, that’s totally fine. In my case, once again, I got lucky.

I told A that I’d always wanted to have a guy come over my tits and onto my face. The next time we had sex he did just that. A confessed he’d spent the three days prior edging himself so that he could “impress” me. It’s safe to say he did, as I just lay back on the mattress, with droplets of cum slowly drying on my chest and neck, happy as a pig in shit. Or in my case, a Mary in jizz.

Two days before I last had sex with A, I sent him a text first thing in the morning informing him that I’d had an exceptionally hot dream (inspired by one of GOTN’s very own posts) about him, to the point where I genuinely woke up and had to stroke my clit until I came, which, thankfully didn’t take long because it was a very vivid fantasy and I appreciate my sleep. That’s why less than 48 hours later, I got to watch my boyfriend wrap a hand around his throbbing shaft, and pump it furiously whilst I slid a lubed up finger into his arse, stroking his prostate and held a vibrator against his perineum, his eyes wide in pleasure. He subsequently orgasmed incredibly hard – thick, sticky come all across his chest, up my arm and dripping down his shaft. Just reminiscing about it makes my cunt twitch.

When a boy whispers “I think you broke me”, and can’t move for 20 minutes, leaving you to wipe him down, I think it’s safe to say you’ve done a fairly good job. I’m so fortunate that he was up for fulfilling that fantasy for me. He’s even requested that I slide a finger inside next time he’s having sex with me, so I reckon it’s firmly on our green list. You don’t get anything without asking.

You already know my enjoyment of being restrained, but what I’ve not mentioned yet is my penchant for feeling a sharp sting against my arse cheeks or the backs of my thighs. Spanking. Oh, it hurts in such a good way. I got a bit overexcited whilst A was fucking me from behind once, and asked him to spank me. He did a terrible job, but it was because it had been in the heat of the moment and he’d been rather busy sliding his dick into my tight cunt. We finished up, and lay on top of the duvet, chatting about how rubbish his first go at disciplining me was, when he suddenly pulled me over his knees, his cock sticky against my bellybutton and delivered an almighty smack against my arse.

“OW.”
Smack
“BLOODY OW.”
“Should I stop?”
“No, I quite like it.”

This went on until I rolled off with my arse bright red and throbbing, and I declared that it was time for me to return the favour. And you know what? I was really shit at it. I just couldn’t get the force and power behind me to deliver the kind of satisfying thwack I wanted so desperately. Fast forward two weeks, and we’d bought ourselves a paddle. Turns out that there is nothing quite like the sound of leather against flesh echoing around a room punctuated only by moans or sighs.

Sometimes, however, that sort of silence can be unnerving and ever so slightly awkward. I’ll always have something on in the background. We’ll make a playlist, or choose an album that makes us feel sexy – I’m particularly fond of The xx’s debut album. What I’m less fond of, however, is leaving any sort of food programme on. Nothing will make you laugh harder than Jamie Oliver using the phrase “gnarly crispy balls” the second your tongue snakes out over your partner’s testicles.

I am so glad I waited. I found someone who understood exactly why I was a virgin, and was willing to be patient with me through every single new experience. He didn’t take my virginity: I willingly gave it to him. He’s pushed my limits, but never to the point of making me uncomfortable. He’s stuck with me through every panicked PDA, every queef, every awkward moment of leg cramp, every drop of period blood on the sheets and never made me feel anything less than beautiful whilst doing so. No matter what happens in our future, A will always have a place in my heart.

I can’t let these blogs end on too soppy a note though, so here are some final pearls of wisdom. Pop them on a necklace.

• If you wear glasses, there’s never a good time to put them back on when you’ve taken them off. The absolute worst occasion you can choose to do this is when seeing your partner’s genitals for the first time. Reassure them that you merely want to see them in glorious HD, and it’s not a magnifying issue.
• Removing clothes is tricky at the best of times. Don’t make it more difficult for your partner by wearing something that has four hooks on the back, because you’ll end up sat on a bed, in a skirt and said bra, going “four hooks, it’s got four hooks on the back, no, ow, oh I’ll undo it, hold on.”
• As a rule, button flies should also be banned. as the last time I tried to undo them whilst kneeling in front of A, I couldn’t work them out, got frustrated, and shouted “CAN YOU JUST TAKE YOUR JEANS OFF PLEASE‽”. When he had a traditional zipper however, I managed to slide his jeans over his hip bones and down to his knees in seconds before flicking my tongue across the tip of his cock which was already sticky with precum. Anticipation is sexy. Being in a huff because you can’t undress your partner isn’t.
• If you insist on getting your sex tips from magazines (and not from the real life experiences of anonymous girls on the internet) do your best to subvert them a little bit. We’re all aware that you should put a ring doughnut around your partner’s penis (DO NOT DO THIS, NO SERIOUSLY, DON’T) and nibble it off, so why not buy a tub of mini ring doughnuts and set them on your breasts, ready for your partner to deftly eat them off you?
• Shower sex is actually incredibly tricky and nothing like what you see in the movies. The dimensions will be all wrong, the shower curtain will cling to you clammily and then you’ll get into a rhythm and realise you’re accidentally waterboarding your partner.
• But most importantly of all, have fun. Sex is not meant to be stressful, or scary or something to be put on a pedestal. Only you know when you’re ready, and trust me, you will know.