He kissed me, like I’d never been kissed before. Well, I hadn’t been kissed before. As he kissed me, I felt his lips exploring mine, my own personal Columbus – trust me to relate romance to education. As he kissed me, we fell back, onto the muddy floor outside my tent. I couldn’t help but laugh, and neither could he. He was pretty when he laughed, I loved it.
He stopped kissing me, and moved into my tent, leading me in. He pulled my top off, it was cold, as the day was coming to an end, I didn’t think I’d stay cold for long, as he moved his warm hands across my body... I couldn’t believe it was happening. He took his top off too, he wasn’t defined like all these Calvin Klein models, but, he wanted me. I felt the button on my jeans undo, and looked down to see him pull my jeans off. He threw them away, and they bounced off the tent side and fell onto my face. He laughed, freely, and I couldn’t help but laugh either. He pulled them off my face and kissed me again. I felt his warm fingers travel down my body, drawing a line from my neck, across my breasts, down my navel and onto the hem of my underwear, as he began to pull them down. I gulped, I knew what was coming. His hand pulled my underwear completely off, then his hands began to climb my leg again, it didn’t take him long to get to the top of my thigh, and slowly moved his hands across me... there.
Before I knew it, he was naked too, kissing my neck, making it seem romantic... In reality, I was losing my virginity to someone I just met, in a tent, in a muddy field in Reading. I’d read Lady Chatterley’s Lover, and John Dunne’s poetry – that was glamorised, romanticised. It was over before it began really, in a series of gasps, but it felt... Different. Good. I liked it, a new feeling. He seemed happy too, so relaxed and care-free, and we just laid there together, as he pulled Amira’s sleeping bag over us, together, in our own little microcosm.
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