Experimenting With A Friend!

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Losing My Anal Virginity!

*Possible trigger warning: themes of rape and sexual assault*

The man who took my anal virginity was my rapist.

He was a man who drugged me then pushed himself on me; into me.

He violated every single one of my orifices; mouth, ass, pussy.

And when he was done, he finished up by shooting his cum all over my face.

At which point he pulled his jeans on and 'kindly' offered me a tissue to clean up my cum-covered face.

Throughout this whole ordeal I had felt disconnected. It felt as though I was floating outside my body; watching everything going on as if it weren't really happening to me. Inside my head I was screaming "no" and "stop" but my mouth wouldn't, or couldn't, form the words. The drugs had done their job and silenced me; allowing this man to rape me as he wanted.

As soon as the drugs wore off I pulled my clothes on and high-tailed it out of there as quick as possible. So fast, in fact, that I left my DVD in his TV. By that point, I no longer cared about anything else, I just wanted to get home and shower all the dirtiness off my body.

I never spoke about the rape. I returned home to find my mum had gone out, mercifully, and jumped straight in the shower where I scrubbed my skin raw with boiling hot water and a loofah. I donned my pajamas and curled up in bed and attempted to forget about it in sleep.

I lived in constant fear of seeing him again. Whether he lived in denial that what he had done to me was against my will or whether he just didn't care, he sent me text messages at various times of night asking to hook up. I knew he knew where I lived and I was anxious all the time that he would come to the house. Thankfully, he never did, and a few long weeks later, when our house began to subside, my family and I moved to a different part of town, and I began to feel safer, at least.

In the years since the rape took place I have opened up about it to a handful of boyfriends and close friends; people I trusted. I still haven't told my family, though. I think I'm protecting them from something I know would hurt them to hear. Some people say I talk about the ordeal too casually, but I have to distance myself from the memories to even begin to talk about what happened.

The biggest part of me still believes it was my fault; that in going to his house without knowing anything about him and then not leaving when I saw the cocaine-using flatmates, I deserved it. But a smaller part of me knows that whilst I acted a little naive, I did not deserve what he did to me. No one deserves that.

I thought the rape was the worst thing that would, or could happen to me. At least in that year, anyway. But, unfortunately, I turned out to be very wrong. Worse was yet to come...

Doing Cocaine Off The Living Room Table!

*Possible trigger warning: this post contains some references to drug-use and rape*

Many of my relationships in my teenage years were formed over the internet. I was enrolled in an all-girls school and had no real interest in going to clubs or pubs with my female friends, where they professed to meet their boyfriends or one-night stands, and so contact with men offline was rare. Through the social networking site of it's time, Myspace, I met Lee*, Steve* (my first, serious boyfriend), Richard* and Stephen* (a psychology student who taught me to play poker). Through Gumtree I found James* and Ken*. 

My first experience with meeting a boy offline was shortly after the break-up with Steve. At that time my mother had hired two girls to come in and walk our dogs every evening, as she worked long hours and was often too tired. One day, these two girls bought a boy with them. As usual, I was sitting on the stairs in my faded and worn jogging bottoms and a top that barely zipped up over my rapidly growing bust. Appropriately attired, in my eyes, to see two girls I had no interest in befriending, but not a good-looking boy!

I hid in the shadows of the hallway and hoped, even when he smiled at me, that he couldn't really see me well enough. He didn't come the next time with the girls and I pretty much forgot all about him. We went away for a weekend, my mum and I, to a family event and asked the girls to feed the dogs and walk them whilst we were gone. Saturday night I had a phone call from my best friend at the time, Natasha*. She told me a boy had called her from my home phone, where her number was stored, and asked for my number. Wisely, she'd refused but took his mobile number and offered it to me. I knew who it was and, flattered by his interest in me, jotted his number down and shot him a text that same evening. 

Hot Boy, whose name I no longer remember or care to remember, and I messaged back and forth a few times over the course of the weekend before he invited me to his house, just around the corner from mine as it happened, to watch a movie. Choosing one of my favorite scary movies and dressing up a little, I told my mother I was going to my friend Nicole's* house, also not far from mine, and I'd be back later. I followed the directions given and was soon outside Hot Boy's building, where he stood waiting for me and smiling widely. 

As we entered the small flat, he quickly introduced me to his two, gay flat-mates who were doing cocaine off the living room table. That should have been my first red flag to get out, but I just smiled and followed him through to his bedroom; slightly in awe of his lifestyle. There we settled on his bed and he stuck the DVD in but quickly jumped up to get us both drinks from the kitchen. I waited patiently in his room, one eye on the film, the other looking around at the inside of Hot Boy's room. It was very bare with no real personal touches or items left anywhere. And then he was back, and handing me a tall glass of coke. I took a few swigs and carefully set it down on his chest of drawers. 

As we continued to lie there, side-by side, watching the movie, I began to feel dizzy, vague and disconnected from myself. The only way I can describe it, even now, is to say it felt like I was outside of myself watching what was happening. And as his hands moved to undress me I tried to scream, but no sound would come out...

*names changed for privacy

My First Kiss!

Lee* was my first, slightly unconventional, relationship. Like many of my future relationships, Lee and I met online. Unlike many of my future relationships, though, we never met in person. Our 'relationship,' if you could even call it that, went on for a month(ish) and consisted purely of phone calls, to the tune of £500 extra charges on my phone bill, and texts. When, inevitably, I got bored and called things off, Lee took it rather badly and proceeded to harass me with abusive and threatening messages. When I blocked his number, he recruited his friends to act on his behalf and I was soon receiving the same type of messages from strangers. 

My second, also slightly unconventional, relationship was with AJ*, a friend of Lee's. We met when I rang Lee, to discuss his behavior, and AJ answered. After a friendly chat with AJ all phone calls from my ex and his cronies ceased and AJ and I grew closer, with increasingly frequent phone calls and texts. Both of us were keen to meet but distance was a problem; he lived miles away in Dover! Somehow, though, I was able to convince my mum to take me there on a mini-break and she found us a lovely cottage, not far from my boyfriend's house, and even agreed that AJ could stay on the empty, lower bunk in my room! 

That weekend was awesome; AJ took me on a tour of his home-town and introduced me to his family and friends. But one thing bothered me; over the course of the whole weekend, AJ made no move to kiss me and, having never been kissed before, I made no move either. And so I returned home without the first kiss I'd been hoping for! 

Being away from him was torture and it felt like years, but was only weeks, before AJ came to stay with me in my home. As it turned out, though, that weekend was to spell the end of our short-lived relationship as the boyfriend I'd adored showed his true colors...

Firstly, I learnt just how high-maintenance AJ was. He spent at least an hour in the bath. Then another half-hour, minimum, styling his hair. He used half a can of hair-spray in one sitting. And he had to do this at least once a day! 

Secondly, I learnt that my beloved boyfriend was a dreadful flirt when he asked for my best friend's phone number right in front of me! When she refused, kudos to her by the way, he scribbled his number down and handed it to her with a wink. I was disgusted but willing to brush both these things off. 

The death-knell was my first kiss. Yes, I finally got that first kiss I was so desperate for and it was bittersweet. Knowing nothing of kisses, I thought it was brilliant, fantastic, amazing. I wanted to do it all the time. But after the first time, AJ kept putting me off and when I pestered him he announced that I was a terrible kisser and proceeded to list the ways in which I was!

I was devastated but also angry and when he returned to Dover I ended things. We were able to part ways amicably, thankfully, and I went on to find someone who would help me, not hinder me, with my kissing skills...

*names changed for privacy

The Pungent Aroma Of Body Odor!

In my mid-late teens I was spending a significant amount of my free time on the internet. I was frequenting chat rooms, mainly. Specifically, a site called "Habbo Hotel." I created an avatar, of how I wanted to look not how I actually looked, and I would hang out in different rooms, chatting to others. 

It was on one of these chat rooms that I met Richard*. Richard was a teenage boy who spent most of his free time playing computer games, primarily a first-person shooter called "Doom." As we talked, I found out Richard lived, like Ken*, in Scotland! He didn't drive, nor did I, and although we talked about meeting up it seemed impossible. 

Eventually, though, I was able to convince my mum to let him spend a few days with us and he made his travel arrangements. To this day I'm not sure why my mum agreed to let a complete stranger, I'd met on the internet no less, to stay in our house. It became quite a common occurrence, though, as it later transpired.

Unfortunately, I soon realized my mistake in inviting a total stranger to stay with me for a few nights. It turned out that Richard had a terrible B.O. problem - the boy absolutely reeked! Even my mum couldn't help but comment, in a whisper to me on the landing, on his pungent aroma and suggest that he might benefit from a shower.

Eventually I was able to convince him to have a shower, thinking maybe mama was right and a good wash would do the trick and make being around him a little bit more bearable. But less than ten minutes after he'd come out smelling fresh as a daisy, he stank as bad as when he'd stepped through my front door earlier that day!

We had to burn** the sleeping bag he spent those two nights in after he left because, despite several hot washes with copious amounts of detergent, it reeked, like him, of body odor. And, sadly, an otherwise lovely guy will forever be remembered as "the B.O. guy," and although we kept in touch online, strangely, we never made plans to meet up again.

However, he wasn't to be the last internet friend I'd make the mistake of meeting off line...

*names changed for privacy

**when I say burn, I really mean throw in the trash, but burn sounds more dramatic!

Shaving My Lady Garden!

Shortly before my relationship with Steve*, my best friend, Helena*, taught me some important things about sex and men. Things I would carry with me into my twenties and beyond, although I didn't know this at the time. 

I considered Helena to be a sexual font of all knowledge. Only a year, or so, older than me and already she professed to have engaged in sexual activities I hadn't even heard of before, let alone done! 

At the time our friendship was formed I already knew I was bisexual, although I had never been with a girl, sexually, before. I had developed a bit of a crush on Helena* when we were both in school together and went to any length to catch a glimpse of her, including spending every free lunch hour in the D&T room where she would be working on various projects, usually with her then best friend Jane*. 

And so I was ecstatic when she started talking to me, and overjoyed when she invited me to her house where we would smoke cigarettes on the balcony, drink vodka and coke and 'rock out' on our guitars. (A humorous side note: the first time I drank vodka and coke at Helena's was the first time I had drunk vodka and coke, so when she told me to say 'when' after she'd poured enough vodka for me I didn't stop her till my glass was half-full; with just vodka! Needless to say, that was a very stiff drink!)

It was on one of these occasions, dossing around at Helena's house, that she decided to tell me about two important, or they seemed to me to be at least, things: pubic hair shaving and self-orgasms. 

I laugh now to think of how naive I was in those days; before any man came into my life to show me carnal pleasure. I had no idea that you could make yourself orgasm. I didn't even know how an orgasm felt! And I knew nothing of sex toys, whilst now, many years on, I have a growing collection!

On that day at Helena's, she'd spotted my rather thick 'bush,' or lady garden as I prefer to call it, and commented that "You do know you can shave that, right?" Of course, I didn't and she kindly explained to me that many men preferred a clean-shaven pussy. If I was shocked at her crudeness and candidness, I didn't show it, only listened attentively. That very night I started a grooming habit that I would be unable to stop for many years to come and shaved my bush bald! 

It was also that day at Helena's that saw me find out orgasms were possible alone and what a Rampant Rabbit was. With my freshly shaved, slightly stinging, pussy and my fingers I led in bed and...well, I didn't reach orgasm on the first try. But I got closer and closer until one day I climaxed. And it was wonderful. And so began a long fascination with masturbation that would one day lead to an addiction and an inability to orgasm without a vibrating pair of ears...


*names changed for privacy

Ticking Off Boxes On A BDSM Checklist!

My boyfriend had been acting strange for a few days before he text me to meet him at the local shopping mall the next morning. So confident was I that I had covered my tracks, I didn't even entertain the thought he might know of my trysts with James* and Ken*. But as he strode up to me that cold, wet, dismal morning with his black, leather trench coat flapping about him in the breeze and sheets of white paper clutched in one hand, my heart was in my mouth a little. 

I greeted him casually, a quick peck on the lips, but he meant business. 

"I know about your advert," he told me, with no anger or hurt in his voice, only a questioning look in his eyes.

"What advert?" I hedged, having the nerve to look wounded. 

"Seeking a Master," he replied as I looked sheepish.

I didn't need to say a word, my guilt was written all over my face. But, to my relief, he didn't appear to know I'd had any responses to the ad, or, if he did, that I'd met with some of the respondents. Instead, as we sheltered under an awning from the driving rain, he showed me what was on the paper in his hand. It was a BDSM checklist! Rather than dumping me, he wanted to explore my BDSM fantasies with me. I should have felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Instead, I just felt awkward and uncomfortable. And more than a little ashamed. 

The relationship with Steve* came naturally to an end not long after the BDSM checklist incident. I ended things with him by, I'm ashamed to admit it now, text message. I'm sure my reasons had something to do with his wanting to explore the darker recesses of my mind. For reasons I'm not too sure of, I've always found it easier to explore the submissive side of me with strangers, or almost strangers. 

But as it turned out, that wasn't to be the last I'd see of Steve...

*names changed for privacy

Freezing My Tits Off Whilst He Snores In My Ear

After my relationship with Master James* went south, I began chatting with Ken* who, if you remember, was a father of three in his late-forties, living over a hundred miles away in Scotland. He had replied to my online advert ("Seeking Master") and we'd kept in touch even during my relationship with Master James. We were soon spending hours on Skype together, engaged in fairly innocent conversations, despite both our intentions. In retrospect, I think he was worried about coming across as predatory, given the age difference.

I had high hopes for my relationship with Ken. Because he was older, I assumed he would be more experienced. Although we'd never discussed his past experiences, his reply to my advert led me to believe he was a Dominant man. So I hoped that he could become my next Master and help me on my journey into the BDSM world. There was one big problem standing in our way; distance.

The first, and last, time I met Ken was in a hotel in my home-town. Ken made all the arrangements whilst I set up some lie for my mother as to where I was going to be Saturday night. Doubtless I told her I was spending the night with a school friend, even though I had none. My mum, though, was always so keen to believe I was making friends and having a social life that she swallowed the lie easily.

And so it was that I found myself lying on big, white hotel bed with Ken between my spread legs. He tells me he likes foreplay; he likes to pleasure a woman. Great, I think, what woman doesn't like foreplay? As the night wore on, though, I came (though not literally, sadly) to realize that Ken liked to pleasure a woman before sex because he couldn't do so during. This realization came as he huffed and rolled off me, after half an hour of rubbing and poking me with his flaccid, micro-penis.

I spent the next eight hours freezing my tits off on top of the covers, locked in his embrace as he snored contentedly in my ear. He slept soundly through the night, his attempt at sex obviously exhausting, whilst I laid awake until the sun came up.

I left as early as I could without hurting Ken's feelings. Yes, despite the awful sex I was still concerned about his feelings. And when I knew he was back in Scotland, I cut off all contact with him. I couldn't bring myself to tell him I hadn't enjoyed our night together. But I also couldn't pretend I had. So I deleted, blocked and ignored him.

And so what I'd hoped would turn into my second Master/slave relationship became the most awkward sex I've ever had; and I feel justified in saying that with more years of experience under my belt. It was also more vanilla, even, than sex with my then boyfriend who was still blissfully ignorant of my kinky explorations.

Or so I thought...

*names changed for privacy

Sitting On A Park Bench, Wearing No Knickers!

And so my first experience of kink was sitting on a park bench, wearing a mini-skirt with no panties on underneath, in the freezing cold night, whilst James* (a man I'd just met) slid his hand up underneath my mini-skirt and I began to shiver; partly from arousal, mostly from cold!

The relationship with James did not last long, a matter of weeks in fact. Because of school-work, my 'vanilla' relationship and his full-time job it was difficult to find the time to meet. Adding both of our living situations into the mix, me with parents and him with flat-mates, it was amazing we ever managed to do anything but chat over a pint! But we did; more commando trips to pubs, with James choosing my outfit for the night, a few more public play sessions, but always in the dark; a few years later found me 'upgrading' to shagging in a bush with my long-term boyfriend in broad daylight, whilst dog-walkers walked by! And, of course, my relationship with James was my first time, but definitely not the last, with an older man (albeit not as 'older' as some would turn out to be!)

As it turned out, the death knell for our relationship was my, somewhat unhealthy, obsession with vampires. The "Twilight" series had not long come out and I had become convinced, or convinced myself at least, that I was a vampire. I believed myself to be a more modern vampire, similar to the Cullens ("Twilight"), but one that definitely didn't glitter! And so, feeling I could trust my new Master, my new mentor, I confided in him, over drinks at the local, that I believed I was a vampire. I'm not sure what I hoped for out of this reveal; I think I just wanted to make it 'real.' But, naturally, he was incredulous and, when I insisted, became angry. Eventually he stormed off, with the parting line; "If you wanted to end things, Daphne*, you didn't have to make up some bullshit about being a vampire!" 

And so began, and ended, my first Dom/sub relationship. And, shortly after, began a new one...

*names have been changed for privacy.

Losing My Virginity On His Parent's Sofa!

I lost my virginity at sixteen, in a somewhat uncomfortable position on the sofa in my boyfriend's parent's front room. This was after we had, unsuccessfully, tried the kitchen counter and the kitchen floor (too high and too cold, respectively.) In retrospect, I'm sure my boyfriend, Steve*, had probably been watching porn, which is where this idea of sex on the kitchen counter came from, at least, and, when that failed, he moved onto other possible surfaces.

Like many, I'm sure, my first time was unremarkable; awkward and over far too quickly. From then on, sex with Steve was quick and frequently interrupted by his overbearing mother barging in on us without knocking.This led to me wearing skirts and dresses for 'easy access' and to save me some face! It certainly was not an adventurous sex life, unless you count the sofa shagging as adventurous, but sex was a novelty for us both and, so, exciting enough. Or so I thought.

At the time I was seeing Steve I was reading a lot of fanfiction online and, somewhat unsurprisingly, I came across some of the erotic kind and a world I hadn't known existed: a fetish world. Soon I was reading erotic fiction nearly every day and engaging in ever kinkier fantasies, which I would frequently get myself off to. But instead of talking to my boyfriend, and perhaps exploring the fantasies with him, I posted an advert online - "Seeking Master."

Knowing what I know now, nearly ten years on from my silly, sixteen year old self, I realize how stupid and naive I was. Both in thinking that sites like Gumtree were a safe place to find a sexual partner and in thinking the first guy who told me what to do was a Master. I was a school girl with no knowledge of the real world or of the BDSM world I wanted to inhabit. But, of course, I was flooded with emails (being young and reasonably attractive was as much of a rarity on these kind of sites then as it is today) and I began to talk with two males who professed to be interested in becoming my Master.

One of these men was Ken*, significantly older, married with children, and living over one hundred miles away in Scotland.

The other, James*, was local, older than me but not much, and quite good-looking! And so, after a few emails back and forth, I found myself meeting him for a drink in a local pub where he whispered in my ear over a Malibu and Coke; "go to the bathroom and remove your knickers."

It was as I was stuffing my sexiest knickers into my clutch bag and tottering back out to the table, in my ridiculously high heels, to James that I realized I had become a part of the world I'd only fantasized about till now. I'd taken my first tentative steps into the BDSM world, and I knew then that there would be more...

*names have been changed for privacy