A little history lesson.

Whilst it is an absolute cliche, the saying that we never forget our first time is also an absolute truth.

The name Virginia, for that reason, holds a very special place in my heart.

I count myself lucky on very many levels. Not least is the fact that the girl to whome I gave my virginity was not a virgin herself. She had the air of knowledge and confidence that moulded my taste in women for the rest of my days.

"Virginia; Virgin for short.... but not for long."

The worst part of meeting my first woman, was that it was in a place called "Littlehampton."

I was at the tender age of fourteen and she was a worldly wise, two years my senior.

Her parents were away and she was house-sitting with her friend. I wonder how many men can claim the joy of losing their cherry in a comfortable bed with a girl who fitted and modelled her mother's silk lingerie?

Thinking back with detachment, I guess she would be referred to as a bit of a slut <grin> but I still think she's a goddess.