The weight of twenty-one years was a heavy thing, a burden of inexperience. All my friends had done it, bragging about their conquests, while I was stuck on the sidelines. Girls? Never really clicked with them. Never had a girlfriend. But I was desperate to know what it felt like. So, I made up my mind: I was losing my virginity.
I took the bus about fifteen miles to the nearest town, my stomach churning with nerves. No idea what to expect. Found a beat-up old phone booth, checked no one was around, and slipped inside. The walls were plastered with cards: “We Do It All,” “French Lessons”—all that cryptic stuff. I didn’t get half of it, but I picked one that said “local” and dialed.
A woman’s voice answered, smooth and flat. “Yes?”
“Uh, it’s about one of your cards,” I mumbled.
“What service did you want?” she asked, no judgment in her tone.
“Intercourse,” I blurted out, then added, “and, uh, does it matter that I’m still a virgin?”
A low chuckle. “No, sweetie. That’ll be fifty quid.” She rattled off an address.
I found the house, pretty nondescript. Rang the bell. A maid let me in, no expression, and led me straight to a bedroom. It was dim, with all kinds of kinky-looking stuff around that I didn’t recognize.
Then the door opened, and she walked in. Super sexy clothes, barely there. “What service?” she asked.
“Intercourse,” I said, handing over the fifty pounds.
“Strip. I’ll be back.”
I fumbled out of my clothes, feeling awkward, and lay on the bed. She came back in, slid a condom onto my dick like she was unwrapping a candy bar, pulled off her own panties, and lay down beside me.
She guided my dick into her pussy, slow and easy. Then I just started pumping in and out, fast and hard, until I blew my load. It was quick. Not at all what I’d imagined.
“Wanna go again?” she asked, no real interest in her voice.
“Nah,” I said.
She didn’t look too impressed. I got dressed and got out of there.
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