One weekend when I was eighteen I stayed at my girlfriend's house. We were alone and had had a bit too much to drink. We started to snuggle. One thing led to another, and before I could stop her speeding hand from getting inside my trousers, it was all too late. I couldn't believe it. The look of complete confusion on her face said it all. She just couldn't work it out. I suppose it was understandable. I was wearing one of her silk and lace cami-knickers. She jumped up and told me to explain and to show her what she thought she knew. At first I refused, but she made it very clear that if I didn't comply she could make enough fuss that would get me in plenty of trouble. Feeling very dirty, I showed her. I stood there in silk and lace. To my shock, she said it could be fun. She said if I wanted things that way, then I would have to do it right. An hour later, I was a girly-girl.