Page 2 of Sex Ed

‘Your mum goes through the rubbish? I guess we can put it in the outside bin?’

‘Could you take it with you and dump it in the bin by the bus stop?’

I nod. I like that we have a plan. I hope he gives me something to put the condom in though because I don’t just want to put it in my pocket – that’s gross.

‘How many condoms do you think we’ll need?’ he asks me.

‘How many penises do you have?’ I try and joke.

I laugh. I’m not sure why. I hope it’s not more than one. But he smiles in reply, and I immediately see his panic melt away. That’s the Toby I know. I take him by the hand and lead him up to his room and the top of the stairs.

When we get in his room, he kicks away Reeboks and piles of clothes dotted around the room, and I stand there and look at his A3 poster of Lewis Hamilton. Lewis is going to watch me have sex for the first time. As soon as Toby finishes tidying, he stands in front of me. He starts to take off his tie. I start with my shoes and tights. He gets caught in his jumper and I help him remove it. I’ve never taken my clothes off more slowly. Do I fold my clothes? When I take off my bra, I think I hear him gulp. Boobs. I have my boobs out. Maybe I should have left my bra on for him to take off? Once he’s down to his pants, he pulls the duvet back from his bed and we both scurry over to it as quickly as possible, taking cover.

‘Are we doing this then?’ I ask him. I realise this is not particularly sexy talk. I reach over to kiss him until I feel his penis prodding my thigh. He arches his hips into the air and takes off his underwear. I feel I should see his penis before I let it in me, so I peek under the covers. Hello. Nice to meet you. You’re a real-life willy. Toby reaches into his school bag beside the bed and tears open the pack of condoms. He rips at the foil wrapper and then fumbles under the duvet, trying to put it on himself without looking. I think he should maybe have eyes on the situation, paranoid he may be doing it wrong, but I don’t tell him that. I watch as his face goes more and more pink trying to put it on. Then he just lies there. Oh. He’s ready.

I peel my knickers down and use my heel to kick them off the end of the bed. Let’s do this then.

‘I love you, Mia,’ he tells me before adjusting his body over mine, his penis brushing against my thigh. I should say it back, but I can’t. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

‘Could you just hold my peeny for a minute? Before we…’

I stop. His what now?

‘Oh yeah…’ I say, reaching down to hold it, almost like I need to firmly shake its hand before this agreement is made. I see Toby’s expression change, a sound like he’s straining, his eyes bulging, the sound of the condom rustling as I move my hand up and down.

‘My peeny loves that…’ he mumbles.

Oh god, he said the word again. I think that’s worse than pickle. I try and pull him close to me, biting my lip. Don’t laugh, Mia. This isn’t funny. This is sex. It’s serious.

‘Can I…?’ But before he has a chance to say peeny again, I lead him towards my vagina. Is that it? No. I think that’s my leg. Hold up.

Oh.

I think that’s sex. That’s new. He pushes his body up to look me in the eye. Please don’t say peeny again, I beg you.

‘How does that feel in your va-gee-na?’ he asks me.

‘Toby…’

I can’t correct him, can I? It’s vagina, Toby. I can’t tell if he’s being funny or deathly serious. How does he not know this? We’ve got our biology exam in three months. We’ve got a girl called Gina in our French class. But it’s not the time to say anything, is it? Not when he’s in me. He’s in me. In my noo-noo. I’m not a virgin anymore. He moves his hips over me, looking nervous, worried. I don’t want him to feel like that. I grab his cheeks and kiss him on the lips.

‘It feels… cool…’ I reply. ‘I love you, too…’

I pull him into a hug before he can spoil this with more words and try to focus on the feeling of him inside me as he starts to move. We’re actually doing it. I think I like this. But before I can even tell him that much, Toby thrusts a few more times and his body stiffens and shudders, a grunting noise like he’s finished running a race. Whoa. Is that it? He collapses on me and rests his head near my collarbone.

I’m not sure what to say but I look up, right into the big gleaming face of Lewis Hamilton. You saw all of that, didn’t you? Don’t tell anyone, OK?

21st June 2015, ED

Hi, Sarah. Why don’t you come in and take off your coat and make yourself comfortable? Would you like a beverage?A beverage? Who calls it a beverage? I’m not a vending machine. Sarah’s just texted to say she’s on her way and now I’m sweating. It’s not very attractive at all. Why am I sweating so much? Is this normal? Maybe something is wrong with one of my glands. Could this be related to my penis? Can penises sweat?

I take off my shirt and stand by the pedestal fan in my university bedroom to air out my armpits. If I just roll deodorant all over me then I can’t fail in this endeavour. How much deodorant will I need though? That’s a lot of chemicals. Why do these rooms get so hot? I know it’s the summer, but the ventilation is awful. That’s the problem when you’re trying to pack as many university students in a building as possible. Sarah has been in here to study before, but I wonder if I needed to do anything more to make this place look nice. Maybe a houseplant? A poster? Should I play some music? I catch a look at myself in my mirror wearing the underwear that I bought especially for the occasion. It almost looks too new, too box fresh. I should have worn it a few times or ironed the folds out of it. I’d have thought the heat radiating off my body would have got the creases out. I need to put on clothes. I pull out a T-shirt from my cupboard with a giant panda on it, a gift from a Chinese exchange student. I try it on. Pandas are not sexy. I can’t just answer the door in my pants. Maybe just shorts and a T-shirt. Collar or no collar? A collar gives the occasion a sense of formality which is fitting if I’m losing my virginity.

Fuck. I’m losing my virginity.

Sarah’s on my course and for the last few months we’ve been lab partners and have struck up a lovely rapport. We both like biology, we understand the importance of precision and safety goggles. We seem to have similar experiences of university life: we drink in moderation, we eat a shedload of pasta and favour film clubs and societies over nightclubs and recreational drugs. Sarah is not a virgin. She had a boyfriend at college. Did I tell her I was a virgin when we started dating? Of course I bloody didn’t. I’m twenty. It’s weird and she’d have run away from me, so I pretended I had an ex called Monica. This was a half lie. Monica does exist. She was in the same sixth form college as me and stuck her tongue down my throat at our end-of-year dance. It was like being attacked by an eel. We did not take the moment further because she was so drunk that after accosting me, she tried to jump off the bars in the school gym and broke her collarbone. Dating Sarah has been a dreamy haze of shared lunches, kissing and waving at her from across the library but now it’s time to take this relationship to the next level. It’s time to have the sex. Or just sex. We know what’s going to happen. This is why I put fresh sheets on and have chilled some bottles of Becks in my room sink. I’m keeping it classy.

There’s a light knock on my door. Oh dear, I might be ill. I rest my head against the wall. You can do this, Ed Rogers.

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