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This is a question Not Losing Your Virginity

Think back, way back, to when you were a spotty virgin.* It was all a bit overwhelming, wasn't it? I remember going to see a band as a teenager and standing behind a girl who I kinda liked, but who had been showing a lot of interest in a friend for the past week. She reached back and squeezed my leg.

I panicked. Brain decided that she'd clearly made a mistake and thought I was my friend: "Er, you've got the wrong bloke"

It was hours before I worked out what was going on.

So, tell us the stories of when you failed to lose your virginity - whether through your own ineptitude or simply because they scared the bejesus out of you.

* Apologies to spotty virgins out there. Wash.

(, Fri 27 Oct 2006, 12:13)
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This question is now closed.

It was my first time...
I was shy and nervous, and she was a complete slapper (but that's besides the point).

So anyway, I was moving my crotch towards hers, when suddenly, I realised I had forgotten something. In my mixture of nervousness and "this is it!", I all of a sudden remembered that I had forgotten to take off my underpants. I had to interrupt myself to remove said undies and did not lose my virginity for another 30 seconds.

Length? I have an enormous cock. What more needs to be said?
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 11:21, Reply)
Sorry to Dissapoint.
But a couple of minutes after loosing my virginity at 15 All of my past experiences were instantly wiped from memory as I subconciously prepared for a life-time of shagging-meomories that I would want to remember.

Subsequently, I have no witty tale to tell. :o(

I did once shag a microwaved Water-Melon though.. I thought that the center would be nice and squishy and warm... it was warm. infact.. bloody HOT... and the speedy withdrawl brought tears to my eyes as the rather pointy pips/seeds that had moved out of the way as i entered it decided that they were goign to act as pointy ratchet-pawls on the way out.

So remember. When shagging water-melons:
1. Use a slow warm-up time: don't nuke it for 2 minutes at 900W: The core temp can scald your bell-end before you mange to react.
2. A meat thermometer (no, that's not slang for your cock) can be used to check core-temp.
3. Don't enter it along the core Axis. Infact.. Avoid the core altogether. It is the axis of pip-evil.. If you make your entry parallel to the core-axis, you can bore more holes and re-use the melon more than once.
4. If using a melon more than once as I suggest in step 2... don't come inside it: Microwaving 1-week-old come/melon-juice is... uncool.

Hmm... Got a little bit wierd there... :o/

IF you need to apologise for lack of length, try a cantaloupe: you con't need to buy a bowling-ball bag for the smaller melons and you won't need to convince your mum that you're a bowler.
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 10:07, Reply)
£19.95 Cowboy Boots......
About 1979 / 1980, the coolest things about were cowboy boots and tight jeans.
I was never a cool person but decided I would join the cool set.
New boots...Light tan leather...Check.
Tight jeans...Levi's.....Check.
Check shirt....Check.
I looked *soooo* cool.
Off to local party at house of lad who's parents are going through a divorce and are away. Two cans of Lager, Loud music on the "Entertainment Centre". Rather large girl appears who I've seen occasionaly round school. "Necking" starts then tongues then touching. Can't believe my luck.
About an hour later, "You can walk me home if you like, my parents are out tonight". Bloody Hell, I might actually do it for the first time. It's really, really, really going to happen. I can't believe it! Oh bless those boots for making me look so cool! I am a sex God!
Put on some warm clothes for it is winter. commence walking her home stopping every 50 yards (metres for you young'uns) for cuddles and more fumblings. "How far is it to your house?" I ask, toes becoming sore and very pinched. "Not far"..........About two miles further, My feet are in agony, I'm sitting down every few yards. "Not much further"....."Not much further"....."Not much further"....."Not much further"..... Boots off, starts to rain. Feet cold, wet, sore, erection gone, I know I have to walk about three miles home. sobering up....she's not good looking...........I make my excuses and kiss her tenderly goodnight. We go our seperate ways. I sit on a bench and reflect on the night then walk home in the rain. occasionally putting the boots back on when on rough surfaces.... The pleasure of getting home was incredible, I sat and cried with relief. I also cried myself to sleep the next night when I found out my mission had failed at the end of her street................................................As for those pesky boots, the remained in the bottom of the wardrobe for about 18 months before they were thrown away. They had cost me £19.95. They had cost me far more than that. Occasionaly, I may glance into a shoe shop window and see an almost identical pair. The memories of the pain flood back..............................................................DAMN YOU £19.95 LIGHT TAN COWBOY BOOTS.
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 9:16, Reply)
My first "Proper" girlfriend...
.... had a quim that smelt like the rotting haddock bin out the back of Grimsby fish market. It took me a long time before I had the courage to put my cock in there....
... there, that's "kinda" not losing it innit?
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 9:07, Reply)
im 19
and still a virgin. i would like to say that it doesnt bother me, but my cocks pretty sore from all the wanking.
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 8:27, Reply)

has anyone noticed there's a bit of an echo in here?
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 7:03, Reply)

of an echo in here?
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 7:03, Reply)

o in here?
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 7:03, Reply)

(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 7:02, Reply)
oh shut your mouth,

how can you say I go about things the wrong way? I am human and I need to be loved, just like anybody else does.
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 6:40, Reply)
I thought I had, but

it was behind the couch all the time. Phew!
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 6:38, Reply)
When sayings make sense...
Lovely, lovely Vicki. I'd had a crush on her for years but never with anything looking likely to overcome our "friendship" barrier. Then one night in the pub we began flirting. I was absolutely sure of it. But I still lacked the balls to convert the cuddling into a kiss.

I walked her home, our mate Ben tagging along... me hoping he'd piss off. We ended up back at her house, on the floor. She pretended to be asleep so I undid her top and slipped my hand inside, she stirred in my direction.

Then I felt Ben's hand on the other tit. He'd decided it was perfectly acceptable to shuffle up and join in. Now she stirred in his direction...

Two things should have happened: she should have screamed... and I should have told Ben to fuck off.

But she went with it and I thought it better to have something over nothing so I did too. It was only when she opened her eyes and saw her male flatmate sitting on a chair watching the proceedings (I'd decided to keep quiet about that detail as well...) that she decided it was time to call it quits.

I cringe now that I would have happily had a threesome with another bloke and a male onlooker just to pop my cherry. Yet at the time it all seemed to make perfect sense. Two hands on a bird is worth it to get one in the bush, I suppose.

Never did get a kiss off her... nor a second chance. Gutted!
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 6:05, Reply)
How in funting cuck
did so many of you make it to uni with your cherries intact.

Too much time on the interwebs me thinks.
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 5:04, Reply)
not losing mine...
i remember being young. younger than 10, possibly, while playing oh-not-so-innocent games with a certain female neighbour of mine who was slightly older. well once there was a moment when she tried to get me to 'send the little jack-russell up the rabbit hole' needless to say i found the idea ridiculous at the time, and bolted rather sharpish. i do find the idea has a certain incurable appeal nowadays, mind...
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 2:49, Reply)
don't think of it as losing your virginity

think of it as gaining herpes.
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 2:10, Reply)
signals, what signals?
Was rather infatuated with a girl I lived with, but being shy and insecure I didn't do anything about it except flirt and tell her how good she looked whenever I was really drunk.

One night I was lay on one of the two couches in the living room, stoned out of my gourd, and she came in from a night out looking all dishevelled and sexy.

Whilst chatting away as she lay on the other couch, she dropped "I'm dying for a snog" into the conversation. Me, being stoned (and a gormless cunt) didn't see the blatant come on, and said "you could have any bloke you wanted, you could..."

The next morning I punched myself in my stupid fat face. repeatedly.
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 1:36, Reply)
First true love...
Fell madly in 'first love' with a girl when I was quite young, but we were too nervous and lacking in pubes to try anything other than kissing. It ended after a year or so but I fell in love with her again a few years later.

After some time we decided we should try something a little more than kissing and gazing in each others eyes. So she initiates the foreplay which lasts all of about minus 3 seconds and my beloved is confronted by a mess on her hands that she hadn't anticipated.
The sight of her washing her hands in the kitchen sink with a confused / disgusted / disappointed look on her face broke my heart.
I had spoiled her innocence in a less than memorable fashion.
We agreed to try again at another time for 'proper sex' but it never happened and I got dumped a week later.

She's on Friends Reunited but I'd never contact her for fear of re-traumatising her.
That and the fact that my email would probably also come too soon.
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 1:14, Reply)
I am a spotty virgin. But theyre moles as oppose to spots. So I have them for life. And you get more as you get older.

I might kill myself...
(, Tue 31 Oct 2006, 0:14, Reply)
I had to go for a walk to the shop and buy a paper while she found the right opening in the mirror.

(, Mon 30 Oct 2006, 23:26, Reply)
I'm 16
(not spotty ¬_¬)
I go to all the right parties
I drink the right drinks
I talk to the right people

I then drink too much, passout or talk shit for ages
These seem to be the correct ingridiants for a decent party... but
I can't seem to get laid.
(, Mon 30 Oct 2006, 23:10, Reply)
A fear of clowns
For as long as I can remember. Six years old, at the Circus, being dragged away crying by an exasperated Daddy who wanted to stare at the crotch of the female trapeze-artiste.

After he left, the Mummy really began to keep me close, never letting me from her beady-sight and of course, as the years fell past, I became more and more embarrassed by her overly-cloying attentions.

This culminated in my thirteenth birthday party. I had asked her to purchase White Lightning, Concorde and Mad Dog 20/20, but she somehow conveniently forgot. She also conveniently forgot to send out the invites. So there we were, the Mummy and I, alone.

Alone but for the amusing clown she had booked.

Alone but for the coffee-breathed, smeary-greasepainted, dirty-nailed and shabby-clothed clown she had booked.

Of course, the Mummy tried to put on the facade of the perfect party-hostess, oftentimes heading into the kitchenette to procure further cocktail sausages-on-a-stick for our 'guest', whilst she left me, in cravat, pressed jeans and a side parting to keep the be-comb-overed one occupied.

I was petrified, utterly so. He kept making balloons appear from his grimy sleeves and fumbling them into the shape of genitalia.

And when my mother ever reappeared, looking ever so enamoured of the bottle of Gordon's I had once found in the freezer, the balloons would disappear, as if by magic.

And off she would sidle again, emboldened by the clown's assertion that he had really enjoyed the Morrisons' pork pie, and desirous of another shot of booze. And so, the clown would once again come close, his rickety fingers snapping in my tight-shut eyes.

And this carried on. And on. The Mummy popping out for curled up sandwiches and gin, the clown running his stinking paws down my chest, until... He grabbed me, then gave an almighty gasp. Tumbling backwards, his face a rictus of pain, me on top of him...

He expired, wheezing and crying, me straddling his convulsing form when the Mummy came back in.

Now that's really verging on the ridiculous.
(, Mon 30 Oct 2006, 23:01, Reply)
Naïve? Me? Well... ca. 1997/8...
the only available online provider in my home town was AOL (i know).

got to know a lady from the US, got into chatting. she sent me porn pics with the words: 'look what someone just sent me!'

later she asked me for my no. gave it to her. called me. we chatted a few times. she breathed heavily though a few of our conversations...

then suddenly she was never online anymore and didn't answer my emails.

I only realised what was going on about 2 years ago.

Could have had my first cybersex. didn't get the message. BUGGER.
(, Mon 30 Oct 2006, 22:03, Reply)
The torturous consequences and downfall of the ex overdue V plate holder
It may be a while back since those dark days, but gods fucking tits does it pain me, even now. Despite the fact I have been seeing someone steady for 4 years. I agree with the dude who said about wishing he could get a time machine to make him get his shit together. Let me tell you my pain...

(1) Occured during the summer holidays after leaving year 11. I was nieve and shy back then and had shite confidence due to being on of the persecuted bullied ones.

Low and behold one summer afternoon, I hang out with a mate of mine and his ex he got back together with and had the 1st taste of "horizontal rhumba".

His re-acquianted squeeze brought along a very tasty dark haired rock girle that was cute as fuck and wore glasses, that didn't make here geeky at all but gave her an added kinky and sultry dimension to her looks. Took a shine to me too, oddly enough.

Dragged me off into a field and snogged my face off, then much later on dragged me to a derelict factory building, a bit like someone's garage. Had "fingers in the till" and hands in pants, didn't go further as we didn't have any johnnies. Was wanting to get down to business irrespective, wish I did (but there could have been a mini me around the age of 12 or something in a parralel unluckier universe).

Bugger!! Like, how the fuck did I know she wanted to get it on with me? I mean, I haven't even had tounge sarie with a bird until that day!! Dammit!!

Promised me she would ring and meet up next time. But, alas, thwarted by going on a stupid shite holiday in Autumn in a caravan, no mates, no shag, and terminal fucking boredom.

Returned home after two weeks to meet up. Went off me, and found out that she was a bad uber slapper that (including me) was "three timing". And thus, concluded that one.

The years flew by, I lived a lie saying "I done her", but only me knew the truth (I think).

(2) Get dragged to someone's 21st, a mates girl's best mate. Thought nothing of it initially.

Until said birds mate said she was well into me, despite the fact she was a 21yo MILF and had a kid of two years old and an ex that was a coke addled little scrote that SOMEHOW pulled a blinder like her. Massive D cup tits, legs to die for and wavy brown hair down to her ass.

Was seeing her for a week, nearly put out. Then I got dumped to return back to the arsehole coke daemon ex. Tried to get back, turned very messy and had a massive acrimonious fall out with the said circle of crew I hung out with. See one of them and still speak very occasionaly despite the fact he wasn't involved but was in the circle as it were. As a consequence, even seeing this mate to speak to makes me die inside. Worst thing I ever done was meet this girl, in retrospect.

(3) Skip forward a year later. Still hideously terrible at pulling. One mate of mine is curiously jealous of how I look and found it baffling that I can't seem to get anyone. Worse is that I am blind as fuck and STILL wouldn't know a woman coming onto me if it saved my fucking life!

Briefly, this time period I was in was "Hell Week", in Feburary at the end of 1990s. Hell week because

(i) Driving test on Monday, couldn't turn up as I lost ALL paperwork necessary for that day. Even go to work and come back on day off to search for papers to no avail. A tonne of £ down the fucking bog in one go, I might as well as wiped my arse with £20 notes

(ii) Theory test expired at the end of the week. So, if I'd have failed anyway, my theory test would have expired requiring me to redo before I had a driving test. Wank biscuits!! :'-(

(iii) I am out at a favourite haunt one night, and I troop off to get a beer. I am out with 2 friends of mine and then I notice a girl speaking to one of my mates. I thought "Oh fuck no!! my mate with shitloads less confidence and self esteem is going to get some!! You cruel harse shit of a god!!!"

Turns out she was well into me, and was speaking to my mate to find out history about me and going "ground work". Like, err, ok....

All goes well with her, UNTIL I discover it was a night with several of my favourite tunes playing one after the other. Well, I am off like a shot moshing - and she pisses off.

Try to reconcile with her (she was a definite goer), but decided that the distance is too far to be seeing her long term (bullshit!!). So, after much moping and anger, I smash an empty pint glass in the food bar of this gaff (that was long empty) and walk out.

I get dragged out uncerimoniously by a bouncer and get flung on my arse, to which I say "I was having a shit night anyway, shove it up your fucking arse mate!!". One of my mates find me, and I am as low as you can get and wanted to die. Maybe a kebab would cheer me up.

Nope! purchased said "Kebab of God", trip arse over tit bruising myself and lose entire kebab all over the floor uneaten. Like, kill me now, cruel harsh god!!

Skip forward a year, and finally do a MILF and we did everything all night long. Even stayed over there (see Losing Virginity post for details).

Despite everything "all coming out in the wash" to quote a metaphore, my greatest wish would be that fucking time machine and go back to "retro-me" and tell me to get my shit together and avoid the mental scarring of having V plates for far longer than necessary.

One time, I even used to think stuff like "Fuck me, If I get killed tomorrow I will die with V plates!!!"

Thanks for helping vent my spleen.....
(, Mon 30 Oct 2006, 21:21, Reply)
young, dumb, and ... er, that's it
A 12-year old girl playing doctor with a 11-year-old boy... I didn't twig, until much later, why she got annoyed at me and waltzed off. There was more than a year between us, she clearly had much more going on in the hormonal department, while I wasn't even slightly spotty yet. Good thing, now I think about it..!
(, Mon 30 Oct 2006, 21:12, Reply)
I'm fat, spotty, belgian and have no social graces....

I suspect that I won't be losing it for QUITE a long time!
(, Mon 30 Oct 2006, 20:47, Reply)
Spotty virgin alert
Well, perhaps more virgin than spotty*, but I've got an infected pimple just under the corner of my mouth (in plain sight, all the time) that puts 50 Cent's bullet wound to shame.


I suppose anything I type that relates at all to sex will be applicable to this QOTW, as (to paraphrase Bash.org) 'there are no words to describe all the sex I have not had', but this is the most recent and most frustrating thing I can think of.

Ahem. It was the beginning of December last year when I stopped being a sexually frustrated 16-year-old Yank on account of having a wonderful girlfriend. She completely changed my outlook on sex; being with her made me realize that there were more important things. Sure, loss of virginity was on my 'To Do' list, but it was nowhere near the top, whereas before I had frequently been frustrated, angry, even depressed at times about the fact that everyone seemed to be having so much carnal fun with one another (and they were all kind enough to tell me about it). I figured there must be something wrong with me for nobody I know to even consider me in regard to sex (or sex in regard to me for that matter). Ahem. So far my state of mind prior to becoming involved with my wonderful girlfriend.

The thing was, she had never had a serious boyfriend before, and the last less-than-serious one had cheated on her (with her best friend, no less). She'd never even shared a kiss with someone before me. Hence, I was obligated to be patient and take it slow or risk hurting her and damaging our relationship in a very serious way- not that I minded in the slightest (see above), but it's important to note that this is the way things went.

Things slowly progressed; we were well-established on second base (God, I hate that analogy. It's reasonably effective, but it trivializes everything so much it's just annoying) when she moved.

To Finland.

I live in Holland. This was a problem.

But hey- we were both willing to get into a long-distance relationship, being very (VERY) much in love, and I was still more than willing to curb my frustration in hopes of seeing her again and catching up on lost time (as it were).

And then, not even two weeks ago as of this writing, she broke up with me. You'd have to ask her for reasons why, because she's explained it three times and I still don't get it. This is beside the point.

The point is that for me, it's right back to being Mr. Sexually Frustrated Little Yankee Teen, except now I'm 17 years of age and I feel even more worthless in comparison to everyone else for still not having lost my virginity and because there's nobody else I know that'd give sex with me (or any attraction to me whatsoever) a second thought (Hell, I don't even think I know anyone that'd give it a first thought). Don't tell me that makes no sense. I know it doesn't, but that doesn't seem to stop my brain from thinking that way.


Oh well. Not much I can do about it now, is there? Yeah, I just thought I'd post a reply to this QOTW that's in-depth despite being not necessarily cringeworthy.

Until a QOTW next grabs my attention,
I remain, yours in spotty virginity,

*I wash quite regularly thank you.
(, Mon 30 Oct 2006, 20:08, Reply)
The great wall of . . .
Well, we were both 15, and had been dating for three months, and she says it's just time - she wants to "get it out of the way" and while it's still a "very serious endeavor" it's also "distracting" that the both of us are still virgins.

Right. So. Cue Cleese's "Meaning of Life" narration ("...and mount the woman. Like. So.")

There I am anticipating the sweet ecstasy foretold in fable and song, encountering instead a dead end, just three inches in.

Can't be right, no. We try again. But, really, there's an actual wall of flesh there. Virile teenage willy meets brick-and-mortar blood-and-bone (I was convinced it had a skeletal structure). It's not something I had the necessary equipment to penetrate. Though a less gentle, patient or sensitive man (such as her next boyfriend did three weeks later . . . and told me about) would have hammered away until victory, I said perhaps we needed to "go about it a different way". She took this as some sign of obscene kinkery and suddenly remembered needing to rush off home.

She dumped me a week later, had her masonry dismantled within a month, and by recent accounts is in a polyamorous quartet relationship that has weekly meetings in a nearby coffeeshop.

Took me until going away to college, where her rumors of my perversions could not follow.
(, Mon 30 Oct 2006, 20:06, Reply)
Uni troubles
This is something that I'm not proud of.

I once chased a girl that I wouldn't normally look twice at because my best mate bet me £10 that I couldn't get her naked within a month. She played in 3 orchestras, she wore a WWJD bracelet and when I asked her out, she honestly said "I've never really kissed a boy before". She started purer than driven snow, and I spent 3 weeks and 2 days getting inside her knickers.

In the end, I got her shit faced at a music department party. She was drunk and it took me 2 hours to persuade her that sex is good and should be enjoyed, I'd be sensitive, I wasn't just after sex (not actually part of the bet) and all that bollocks. I ended up getting her naked in a sound booth, getting her to play the pink oboe and then I made my excuses before I took her cherry. Her friends say she was really fucked up after this.

Still, it put me £10 up!

I'm sorry; judge me on what I have done since, not on what I did back then.
(, Mon 30 Oct 2006, 19:45, Reply)
Another period drama
I had just turned 16 and never got beyond first base. He was 19, experienced and a bit of a lad. I fancied the ARSE off him.

One day he came round unexpectedly and we copped off together in my parent's larder. After some frantic snogging with packets of Supernoodles and garibaldi biscuits tumbling around us, his hand wandered downwards... and I remembered it was blob week. Compounded by the fact my mother still purchased my sanitary products and wouldn't buy me tampons in case I died from Toxic Shock Syndrome.

On finding a handful of padding (thankfully, he ventured outside the pantage at first), he half-heartedly rubbed my super-plus nappy for about thirty seconds before offering me his (suprisingly still erect) cock to sort out.

I duly tugged rhythmically for about 20 minutes, before he mumbled "bit faster". I complied accordingly, he spoffed all over my red miniskirt and went home.

He didn't come back to finish the job. Meh.
(, Mon 30 Oct 2006, 17:43, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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