Feeling Cheap

I was no virgin, but at 18 I didn't have girls queuing up at my door either. Then, whilst I was on holiday in the Orkneys, I met Heather. As English as I was Scottish, pretty, clever and awkward; we were an ideal pair, except for her mum (I now know she was in the throws of a 'bad' menopause). I was invited to visit them in Yorkshire one Easter. For the first time ever, her mum and dad left us 'home alone'. I made a real fire, put on a Barry White album, and put the dog in the kitchen with a big juicy bone. Desperately in love [and lust] and naked, we kissed in the fire light. She opened her arms and herself up to me. I did hear an odd sound, but this was no time to go investigating. I braced myself, literally, in anticipation. Then, I felt a big, wet tongue lick my backside! The dog had escaped from the kitchen (the odd noise) and, seeing a naked bum, he did what any friendly canine would do by way of traditional greeting. Needles to say, our love was destined to remain unconsummated as we fell off the sofa laughing. It was 1978, and a universe away.

— John, 45

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