If I were to reflect on my teenage years, specifically the occasions where sex was involved, I would have to say there are some blurred lines, and in one or two situations a clear step over the line.
For the purpose of balance, it would be wrong of me not to mention where my consent was not fully given:
1978 – Aged 11. Late bus home from Judo classes. Arrived at bus stop, alighted and within 30 seconds dragged by two older boys into a former blacksmith’s alleyway. Forced up against a sweet-smelling female who kissed me for a couple of minutes. “I been wanting to do that for ages.” She said. I have no idea who she was!
1979 – Aged 12. Asked out by a girl at school 5 years my senior. Kissed me madly for days and finally put her hand down my pants. I was scared witless and avoided her up until the day she emigrated to Canada.
In my later teenage years, I had a string of girlfriends either from school or in a wider social group I used to hang about with in the evening. I can say for sure that I never asked any of them if I could touch them or in fact confirm that having sex was okay. It was assumed that was part of the juvenile process. The signs were very positive, and on many occasions things went very well. However, one young girl I was seeing was not, on reflection, up for sex. She did have sex with me many times but on reflection I was never convinced it was her burning desire; she most likely did it because her friends were put her up to it. In hindsight, I feel quite sad for her and somewhat ashamed of myself not being more aware of her feelings.
My virginity was lost to a girl who came over as very experienced. She had been in a relationship with my friend’s older brother. He would have been 18 at the time and therefore I assumed by her out-going personality and older ex-boyfriend, she was maybe 17. We had sex on my friend’s bed after a lot of group encouragement for her to do it. I remember her being quite passive and passed it off being annoyed by the group input from downstairs. I was unsure how this was going to go and being with an older girl I thought it would be fine. Safe to say it was a disaster. She wasn’t mentally ready to do the deed and was particularly dry in a key area. I was consumed with panic and took no real notice of how she was behaving. The result was a badly damage cock (I have the scar today) and an overconfident girl who later that evening admitted she was 13. It would be an understatement to say I was VERY worried at the time and for weeks after.
I did say at the beginning of this post that lines were blurred at times, and most of that was to do with immaturity and ignorance. For me to think back to those early days makes me feel very uncomfortable. I was an ordinary lad with a good moral compass; I was just too young to understand the difference of when it would be okay to get things on. Kids today do not have that excuse fortunately. Education is the key to young people making informed decisions. In the 1970’s the term PC related to the letters preceding numerics on a Police Officer’s shoulder flash, and back then they were more likely to give you a kicking in the back of van than arrest you. (See Life On Mars!)
I have heard people say that Political Correctness has gone mad and that they are afraid to even think personal opinions. Bring back the good old days I hear people say. I say bollocks to that. If you are homophobic, racist, anti-gender neutral etc, then keep it locked away your head and is never use it to insight hatred or make people feel victimised. The good old (bad old) days was full of socially accepted sexual discrimination and a whole heap other anti-social behaviours. I remember it clearly and looking back I know many girls entered into sexual activity through peer pressure, and I contributed to that. However, instead of making me feel disgusted, I have used those mistakes to be more socially aware of what constitutes as a positive relationship and demonstrate that to our children.
Today I take part in forms of play that are taboo and rub shoulders with past behaviours. I see them for what they are and know beyond all reasonable doubt that the 40 years that divide the young boy wearing flares and a hard-on is a long way off from the loving and socially educated man I am today. Consent in our D/s relationship is linked to the power exchange we have going on and is tightly managed to meet our kinky needs.
To all the girls I’ve loved before (thank you Julio Iglesias) who I made feel vulnerable and shit through my contribution, I apologise, and hope they found a partner, or partners, that made them feel equal, sexy and respected.