It wasn’t a last kiss. You’ll learn this about me, I never really let go of anyone. By the time the Minibus arrived back at my youth centre, Blondie and I had firmly established a text relationship….It blossomed….
There was nothing that was going to stop me seeing Blondie….no matter the distance, the opposition; this girl was going to be my girlfriend. And yes, not just a girl who is a friend.
Now, if you’ve been reading along with this, you’ll know that my experience in the world of women amounts to one very drunken night sometime ago and a brief time topping and tailing with Blondie. No Casanova, I’m sure you’ll agree. But I’ve never let the devil of detail slow me down.
I was a good kid, never bunked off school, never smoked, never took drugs, wasn’t particularly bothered about getting drunk….so, you’ll forgive me for being a tad excited when I “skipped” college for the day and boarded a train to the Seaside to meet my girlfriend. Validated was how I felt. A destiny being achieved. Oh and there were those bundles and knots in my stomach. Stage fright is the common diagnosis.
Hand on heart, I scarcely remember what happened when I got off the train, there was a café, something to eat, walking, and hand holding…and then, we were on her street. I found myself struggling to swallow, the enormous elephant of sober second time (daytime) sex wandered along with us and my hands cold and clammy. Yet again, time seemed to slip away from me. Glimpses of the carpet on the stairs, the toilet on the right and her room…
Blondie was cute and I was as horny as hell, heart jack hammering away. She stood in front of me and in broad daylight stripped until she lay naked across her bed and for once in my life, I was completely speechless.
Not a thought of discretion crossed my mind, I drank her in. Her pert boobs, the gorgeous pinkness of her nipples…hard as nails and oh, the curve to her hips and the inviting v that led my eyes astray to her pussy…Mesmerised I was. Locked to the spot. An immovable object. Blondie was however, an unstoppable force. She sat up and took hold of me, dragging me close in by my t-shirt. I was still mouth open, bunny in headlights. I dropped to my knees and she spread her legs around me….draped one over my shoulder. I’m sure I stopped breathing. Her fingers came to rest under my chin and she tilted my head back and said “Lick me baby, show me, let me feel…”
Have you ever had one of those moments where the world literally screeches to a halt? This was my first. Panic is not a viable option when your first and only girlfriend has her legs draped over your shoulder. Honesty also didn’t seem like an option, I mean that really is a pick your moment kind of thing and I refer you back to the leg draping. So I did what you do, I blagged it. Turns out, it’s the easiest thing in the world and as far as this Gold Star is concerned, the best fun you can have on your knees. Now you see, that sounds smooth doesn’t it? Years of hindsight dim the memories of the screaming voice in my head “Whatever you do, don’t fucking bite her!” But I remember it being the most sensual moment in the world. Never before had my world been so small and so big…never had I felt so in tune with another person. Her softness, the gentle throbbing, undulations, yet all so natural to me, instinctive. I lost myself to women the moment I took Blondie in my mouth, on my tongue, around my tongue. Small wonder I fell hard.
Blondie and I would bunk off every second Monday and spend the day exploring what it meant to be a lesbian….getting naked at 10am and hours spent rolling around, discovering how many ways you can get a rise out of this girl. All was going fine, it was a happy lil set up. Not without its drama, or her drama. Blondie was well liked, by boys and girls alike, her popularity resulted in weekly arguments after some confession of indiscretion or another. Her finest hour….calling me minutes into the new year to tell me exactly how many other people she had kissed that night. Oddly enough, we still speak at roughly the same time every year.
For me, that was enough, I started to detach myself from her emotionally, though I admit to not saying No to the sex…no matter the risk at times. Parents coming home in the middle of the day, Blondie hiding under the bed…naked as the day she was born and visible for all the world to see, in her panic she had forgotten to pull the duvet down to cover her bare ass.
Blondie was ultimately responsible for my “outing” to my parents. I’d already given my Mum a “heads up” and dropped the I’m Bisexual bombshell, my plan was small steps…she took it well. Asked if I needed a helpline number and announced “Can’t say I’m surprised…” Dad on the other hand, got a slightly ruder awakening. Faced with my mobile phone bill of a couple of hundred pounds (mostly to a number near the seaside) and a handwritten envelope addressed to me, postmarked “Seaside”. In his anger (it was a very big bill!), he opened the letter. I don’t know how far he read.
If he only made it through the first page then all he had to deal with was the graphic imaginings of what would be occurring “next time I get my hands on you”. If he read past that…well lets just say Blondie had an interesting theory on how we could have babies that were biologically ours. I know, even I struggled with that one. Lord only knows how Dad felt.
Long Story short, Dad shouts, I go out, get hammered, police escort home, throw up repeatedly, go to my Saturday job, and get sent home. Dad then explains that being gay is against the rules in his house, and university also isn’t an option if I want to be gay. Oh and Blondie was never to be seen, heard or spoken to again. I nodded my agreement and promptly carried on far more discreetly. By this point Blondie was struggling to hold my attention, phone calls diminished, thankfully the sex did not. Media Studies girl was creeping up on my heart. I was starting to believe I had a chance, but did I have the balls to make my move?
