[Hate to disappoint the readers who are only interested in my sexually explicit writing, but this is another story which will be likely to fail to arouse your libido. However, it will help males of all ages to understand how a teenage girl’s mind works, what is important, how she learns about boys and how her physiology affects her behaviour and attitude towards the opposite sex. Hope you enjoy the story for what it is, part of my life and the adventure of learning about my body and sexuality. There is romance within it if not explicit sex, by the way.]
One of the last important events in my sexual development occurred just before I became a teenager.
I was just over twelve and a half. Isn’t it amusing how important quarter and half years were when you were progressing towards that magic thirteen?
It was a Friday night, or, more accurately, the early hours of a Saturday morning. I awoke suddenly, shocked, because I thought I might have wee’d in the bed. The top of my thigh was definitely wet. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom, sat on the loo and wee’d, but very little came. When I wiped myself there was blood on the toilet paper. I was bleeding.
My heart rate must have gone through the roof. What on earth had I done to myself and how had I done it? I stood up, flushed, put the seat cover down and raised one leg. Using my father’s shaving mirror I looked between my legs. I parted my inner lips but couldn’t really see anything, certainly not any cuts or blood, but when I wiped myself again there was definitely blood on the tissue. Suddenly I realised. I was having my first period. My mother had warned me that I would bleed one day and should tell her when it happened. I also knew most of my friends had already started.