I think I shall begin blogging some episodes of my early sex life in coming posts. This'll hopefully give some context and understanding to being The Girl.

Here's the first:

The Bad Lover

I was remembering today about one of the worst lovers I ever had. He was a beautiful man and wrongly I had assumed that his skill in bed would similarly be as glorious as the looks he had. How wrong my opinion proved to be.

I was 18, naive, sexually inexperienced, but curious all the same. Working in a different but similarly glamourous industry, mingling yet again with the rich, famous and beautiful. I enjoyed my social life, the attention I got from men, I was open to new experiences.

So when this outgoing, funny, handsome man from the USA office joined our department briefly, I eyed him up with some interest. Not that I was the only one: I noticed how all the women preened themselves when he walked into the room, flirting with him and laughing outrageously at his jokes. Here was a fantastically sexy handsome charming man, and he was single: every woman was out to bed him.

Not me though. He was 36, I figured he would never be interested in a young girl like me. (In my naivete and ignorance, I never thought he would be interested in me for that very fact). So, when he flirted with me, I just took it as friendly work banter, thought nothing of it. And when he asked if I would show him round the city, it just seemed an innocent request, albeit one that flattered me immensely.

It only struck me that he was attracted to me after his arm (that had been placed around my shoulder in the cinema we ended up in), slowly travelled down my neck and began fondling my breast. Just like a bad teenage sex-move. But it felt nice, so I didn't complain. And when his hand wandered down my back and ended up caressing my arse, I didn't stop him doing that either. It was only when he fingers slid in between my bottom cheeks and began sliding against the crotch of my tights that I pulled his hand away. I felt embarrassed, self-conscious, dirty. We were in public after all. (So much has changed since then, ahem).

But I liked what he had been doing. Even with my inexperience, I knew how horny he had made me: my pants were soaking wet. So when he suggested going somewhere private, I agreed, and we left the cinema pronto.

We ended up at his friends house and found ourselves in a beautiful bedroom, complete with a four-poster bed, white drapes on the large floor to ceiling windows, and candles on the oak floor. A recipe for romance one would think. Wrong.

It all started off well: sensual kissing, some gentle breast fondling. But as if he suddenly pressed his foot down on the accelerator, he went from caressing me one moment, to ramming his fingers in and out of my pussy as hard and fast as he could. And I wasn't even wet. It hurt and I tried to get him to slow down, play with my clit a little. But he just fumbled and pushed and tried to ram his fingers inside me again and I got more and more turned off.

Looking back, I am a little surprised at how bad he was. I mean, not only was he 36 (should know better, surely), but it was the fact that when I tried to guide him, show him what I liked, how he could turn me on (and obviously, get me wet enough for his cock to fuck me), he just wasn't interested. It was as if he had a preconceived idea about what sex between us should be like - and he wasn't going to alter his plans no matter what - even if that meant I didn't enjoy myself at all. And of course I was too inexperienced then to either insist on a different course of action, or to try to switch the attention onto him, so that his lack of skills wasn't so apparent.

So after much fumbling he put a condom on and attempted to enter me. I say 'attempted' because it was pretty obvious it wasn't going in: I was as dry as a bone at this point (not something I can say happens with any frequency in my life, anymore) and the last thing that my pussy wanted was a big cock forcefully rammed inside it with no lubrication. So, my pussy shut it's doors and put up it's 'Closed' sign: no entry to you matey. He did try - most of the night - but to no avail. No sex was had, though he begged me to stick my tongue inside his arsehole and jerk him off. I am pleased to say I politely declined. The very thought! (From what I understand Tromboning is very popular nowadays, but I have yet to be persuaded to do it).

In the morning we left for work together, but agreed to enter the office seperately, so that people 'wouldn't talk'. We carried on our jobs as normal, no-one guessed anything, and we barely spoke again. I didn't feel any animosity towards him, more like pity I suppose. So when the other women in the office were drooling over him, I just shut my mouth and kept quiet: no need to ruin their fantasies, or destroy his reputation or ego.

But thinking about it now, I realise how ignorant I was about the whole thing. Here was a man twice my age, who tried to pressurize me into having sex when I didn't want to (and not the first one to do this, I might add). And I thank my 18-year-old lucky stars for a few reasons:

1) That I stood my ground and told him that no intercourse was going to happen
2) That I insisted on his using condoms
3) That he finally gave up, and let me sleep

I got away lucky.

It's certainly one of the chapters in my life I would be more than happy to forget, but content that it is up there with the 'Lessons to be learned from' parts of my life: after being with him I realised that not only was it important that I knew how to pleasure myself and my partner, but that if need be, I would be able to teach my partner how to pleasure me too - something which I lacked the skills in at this point, but made it my priority from then on.

Soon: The Man Who Made Me Climax