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As mentioned previously, we didn’t use condoms to start with. They were a little tricky to obtain, or maybe that was just what I was telling myself as an excuse. If I am honest with myself, the action of going out of my way to buy them constituted ‘intent’ and that seemed to me to be worse than telling myself that sex ‘just happened’ on the spur of the moment, hung-up and guilt-ridden as I still was.
So it was without protection that I took my first ventures into her luscious fragrant hole. Dipping into it, luxuriating there for just a few seconds of bliss before pulling out and finishing myself off over her full breasts became the routine. It was only when her period first came round I was able to enjoy full-on penetrative sex with her, and it was like an epiphany. I wanted more of this and with time I began to take more and more risks; pulling out later and later, coming inside her for more days of her period. I looked forward to her periods, not knowing the discomfort they were causing her. I became an expert in that game called ”Hunt the little blue string”.
And then, one month… She was late. She was never late, never had been, or so she told me. You could set a clock by her monthly cycle. But she was late nonetheless.
Just late enough to make us both reflect on the upheaval that a pregnancy would cause for both of us just then. It turned out that the arrival of Auntie Flo had just been delayed by a few days by a bout of ’flu. We breathed a collective sigh of relief and carried on, more carefully than before. I started to experiment with another crude form of contraception: Anal sex.
I had discovered early on that a little finger, drenched in her generous juices, was a most welcome occasional visitor in her arse. I had sometimes bitten my fingernails right down so as to be allowed to probe her further. The shackles of my upbringing were already being cast aside one by one. I was convinced I was going to hell anyway so what was another sin to add to the list?
Heather was no stranger to anal. She had tried it back home as a teenager. Fortunately, her first experience was at the hands of someone who knew what he was doing. He had been gentle with her and she had not been scared off for good. As a consequence I didn’t have to persuade her to let me try; it was something we explored together. I shall always be grateful to that unnamed person.
For the rest of the university year we slept together pretty much every night, sharing a narrow bed, barely wide enough for one, sharing coursework assignments, sharing wet Saturday afternoons, sharing the thrill of mutual masturbation, the illicit joy of anal and, once a month, the treat of full-on penetrative sex.
The next academic year would would see us setting up home together in North London, with the freedom which that would bring, not least the freedom which comes with ’proper’ contraception.
(To be continued)
Author’s disclaimer. This was 1977: Clearly, unprotected anal sex is a bloody silly thing to do unless you are able to trust your partner absolutely, and is in no way recommended as a means of contraception!
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