Losing your virginity

August is party time at my family's home  
friends and relatives congregate ready to celebrate!  
This year is extra special; my elder sister's A level results  
I'm happy, life's great until I see Angelina, my sister's best mate.  
She's tall and striking of Spanish descent; long black hair and soft brown eyes  
that flash and spark as she vents her feelings about the 'stupid brother' - clear hate  
of me and I don't know why. I have 'feelings' for this girl I just can't explain.  
At best I stand and stare, mouth agape, feeling foolish unable to articulate.  
The rush of blood flows upwards reddening my cheek, leaving me stuttering,  
unable to speak, feeling forlorn I head outside needing air for a 'head-ache'  
feeling confused and upset by this turn of events that I'm struggling to face.  

Angelina has had one too many; heading outside no doubt to inflict more pain  
 
Usually I am the provocateur; the sassy younger brother ready with a flippant jibe.  
Now I'm thinking of strategic retreat, self preservation of my wounded ego  
Why is she here? softly calling me; no sign of her entourage to enjoy a spectacle  
I'm puzzled to explain this strange behaviour. Hide; I'm so not ready for a conflict  
She's looking high and low for me searching the garages just 50 feet way  
I run to my den, made in the wood shed last summer, to enjoy in solitude  
Pungent smells of oiled tools, creosote and new cut pine logs greet my senses  
I can hear muted laughter and music from the party in the house  
But all around me is still and quiet and as I crouch in the shadows  
she stalks catlike and predatory into the shed with an exultant 'found you!'  
I try bluster and bravado and attempt to slip past but she's having none of it  
Instead I find myself gripped tight, hard up against the bench without a sound  
Now she's working her hand down my pants caressing me none too gently  
Pushing me down she kneels astride, lifts her cotton skirt revealing her mound  
I'm not so naive; I understand when I'm in trouble ; 'fight or flight' an auto response  
Hormone release they say. My cock stands rigid to my dismay  
Angelina feels it too and feeds it greedily up inside, her breathless moaning noisy;  
me? .. petrified. Was this what I have dreamed about on all those sticky nights alone?  
With this same girl, pert nipples glistening with a damp sheen in the dim light  
now rocking and bucking as if on her horse, rising and falling her voice now hoarse she gasps and re-doubles her effort, biting her lip she subsides with a shudder  
leaning forward she kisses me hard and under her breath threatens me with death  
should I ever even think of telling a soul; be that friends, sister or even a preacher.  
She dresses quickly and then she has gone; no farewell my love or see you later.  
I lay awhile pondering my state, no longer a virgin but still without a girlfriend  
I wanted a girl to cuddle up beside me but all the lust in the world will not change my situation when all I really needed was a girl to  
love.

Didn’t ask for it but you gave it to me anyway.
Carrying this pocketbook made the boys look at me funny and,
I had to learn to bare the weight, wanting to be among-st them til you taught me about the worry of
Protecting the jewels it encased away from smooth tongues and perversions.
And you swore me to keep it that way until someone came along to deserve it
But like always I was in a rush, I messed up and lost it in the backseat of someone’s car momma

I LOST MY POCKETBOOK.
Almost as if I gave it away, I had no idea with how close he became that it was slipping from around me,
That his neediness of what I had would creep up from behind me and,
Persuasively he begged and begged until he slipped his hands inside and felt all the wealth I have to give momma I gave my pocketbook to him
I can’t come home without it, the second you lay eyes on my you’ll know that somethings missing
Just to keep it hidden I’ll silence the sway of my new walk, so the drum of my hips don’t get your attention
or the veterans that can sense now sniffed it out and act different now, predators and vultures and my flesh is what they’re preying on now that my pocketbooks gone.
One look was all it took for him to get close enough to assess it.
Against my better judgement I opened up and neglected every lesson you installed in me about keeping it protected.
I LOST MY POCKETBOOK.
Not only that.
The problem is I think I want it back, but it’s too late for that
The innocence and security that I once had all vanished when I handed over that bag
Please don’t be mad
Don’t tell dad.
I LOST MY POCKETBOOK

He so got me.  
Even though he thought he wouldn’t get me.  
I had told him I was waiting ‘til I got married. Some sort of religious thing.
That kind of crazy was I at the time, the kind of crazy that didn't happen, over there in his country.  
So in love, he thought that shit was cute.  
I didn't. It frustrated me, leaving me drenched and bitchy.  
 
One late night return from the discothèque.  
Sweat-soaked clothes clinging to our bodies.  
My single dormitory bed wouldn’t  
hold us side to side that night.  
I climbed on top and reached for the nightclub giveaway I had nonchalantly grabbed upon exiting.  
I ripped open the foil gift with my teeth.  
'What are you doing?' 'T’es sûre?!?' 'What about your future husband?'  
We were futureless, from different worlds.  
I smiled silently and continued. Unwrapped, and rewrapped over his sèxe like I had been doing this all my life.  
Then coyly sat back down on the sweetest man ever to lose anything to.  
 
 
R.