Ever since making a comment online about my innocence being stolen by Jenny K on the bathroom floor of her parents’ house, I have been inundated with a slew of requests (two is a slew, right?) for more information about said event. So here it is: but I must warn you, gentle reader – this story may contain traces of nuts and the use of the word “cunny”…I was brought up in a strict, religious household, and despite having moved out of that environment and belief system, I still as a young man had a foolish lingering idea that sex was better left until after marriage. Little did I know then that sex after marriage was left as a foolish lingering idea. That restraint, coupled with my awkwardness around Malatya Escort women, and general hopelessness in picking up signals of any kind meant that I remained technically a virgin until my early twenties. Oh, there had been a couple of girlfriends – and some fondling and fingering and stroking and nudity and sucking and licking: just no sexual relations as defined by Bill Clinton.That is, until Jenny came into my part of the world one summer. She was a friend of a flatmate, and was back home from overseas for a few weeks to look after her parents’ house while they were away on holiday. She was smart and worldly and outgoing and cute – one of those impossibly lovely Malatya Escort Bayan creatures who I assumed I was destined to admire from a distance, not up close and personal-like.We hung out in a group of friends for a week or two, and I realised one night that her ‘accidental’ touches, her playful punches on the arm and laughter at my stupid shenanigans might have been her subtle way of showing that she actually LIKED me. ME! (The clincher was one night when she said that she liked my dancing – was she insane? Did she like getting trodden on?)One evening we ended up alone at my flat, lazing about on a couch watching ‘Dead men don’t wear plaid’ on TV: “Was she Escort Malatya real? There was only one way to find out…”The playful touches turned into playful wrestling which lead to a glimpse of tit, some accidental groping, lips meeting and hands sliding under bra straps, zips being pulled, and – suddenly she sat bolt upright, grabbed my hand, pulled me off the couch and said, “We’re going back to my place.” Five minutes of driving with her hand in my lap and my eyes firmly fixed on her breasts (don’t drive while horny, kids), we tumbled into her house and ran up the stairs to the bathroom. We left the lights off and undressed each other in a seam-ripping rush. She knelt down to remove my jeans and sucked my rock-hard cock noisily into her mouth, then we stepped into the shower together.Dear reader, if you have not experienced the joys of showering with a lover in the dark, and have the opportunity to do so, I suggest you take that opportunity (and that lover) with both hands.