So a couple of you asked me to write story about how I lost my virginity to my mum's friend. I hope its ok
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Mum’s friend, Laura, had been coming round for years — the sort who always smelled faintly of vanilla and red wine, who laughed easily, and who seemed to know exactly how to fill a room without ever trying.
When I was younger, she’d ruffle my hair or bring me sweets. Somewhere along the line, that changed. Her touches became shorter, her smiles slower, her eyes lingering a fraction too long. I noticed the way her dress moved when she sat, the occasional sight of a little too muc leg, the hint of perfume she left behind when she leaned over the sofa to grab something.
It was mutual, I think. Neither of us said a word, but something flickered whenever we were alone — a pulse of awareness.
That afternoon, Mum had gone out. Laura came by to drop something off, she said. I’d been half-asleep on the sofa, i was wanking to a film playing — something forgettable, except for one scene that had got away from me. I hadn’t expected her to walk in.
She didn’t shout, didn’t laugh. Just stood there for a second, eyes soft, a half-smile curving her lips.
“You all right there?” she asked. Her tone wasn’t scolding — more curious, almost teasing.
I mumbled something incoherent, cheeks burning. She tilted her head. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, love, its natural” she said. Then, after a pause that seemed to last a lifetime: “Tell me, have you ever actually seen a woman properly? In person, I mean.”
I shook my head. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
Her eyes met mine again, and there was this look — not pity, not mockery, something else. “Would you like to?” she asked.
The air between us changed. The hum of the fridge, the muted telly, even the sound of my own breathing seemed to fade. She didn’t move closer straight away — just waited, as though giving me a choice.
I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t say no either.
What followed wasn’t sudden, or loud, or reckless. It was quiet — a slow, trembling kind of gravity. The world outside that living room stopped existing. Every word she spoke, every glance, felt like it carried more weight than it should have.
Her voice softened, guiding, careful, almost kind. And though I didn’t know much about anything, I knew this moment would sit in my memory for a long time.
She slowly lifted her top up, a floaty shirt and exposed her boobs. I had never seen boobs in person. She saw me shaking and took my hand, saying "Its OK" and put my hand on her boob. She smiled.
She gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek, not motherly, this was different. She then slink out of her jeans, revealing the lacey knickers, the sort I had seen and wanked over in catalogues. The rest just happened.
When it was over — whatever “over” meant — she left the way she came, leaving only that familiar scent behind. Vanilla, and red wine, and something warmer I couldn’t name.
I never told anyone. |
