Leaving school and starting work, in late March 1975, spelt the end of my innocence. Unlike most 16yo girls who spent their first pay packet on clothes and make-up in preparation for painting the town red, I went with my parents to a small Working Men's Club in an area where my grandparents lived, and my dad was raised. The club was called Midlands Social Club, known colloquially as Middies. It only boasted a single room with 20 something tables nestled together. Folk in there, however, were very territoral. On the row of tables at the front of the club you would usually get the Afro-Caribbeans, mostly suited and in their 30s to 50s. One side of the club featured mostly folk under 35 with smattering of older. The opposite side was where we sat, my family and friends...ages from me 16 to 80. A small stage occupied the back of the club, and the rows of tables in the middle tended to be neutral. Switching sides of the club was practically unheard of. The folk opposite to where we sat regarded us as being a little snooty. 

I wasn't expecting to find my Prince Charming in Middies, or indeed anyone my own age, but stranger things have happened and remarkably it did. A very bullish guy, over six-foot tall, by the name of John, flirted with me. He was on Royal Navy leave at the time. If I am honest, I never found him attractive, but he FLIRTED with me and that was a first, and for someone like me it was a major milestone in my life. John was a couple of years older. His parents and mine were very good friends and everyone seemed pleased John and I made a connection.

We went out on a date the very next day and ended up back his parent's house. John's parents were in bed, so John and I took advantage and started frolicking on the sofa. In truth it wasn't John and I specifically, it was John doing the frolicking and I was doing my utmost best to keep up. I had no idea what I was doing, or supposed to do, I largely mimicked what he was doing but all the while I was thinking I was only moments away from having his cock pounding my virginal pussy. That moment quickly arrived. His cock found its way in a lot easier than I ever imagined, but then I was massively self-lubricating.  As he continued to thrust away, I was thrown into this surreal world, a dream like state if you like, one whereby I found it difficult to process what was happening, if indeed it was happening at all. Clearly it was and it didn't take long for him to shoot his load inside me. He uttered the words, "fucking hell, I'm knackered" as he rolled off me. I remember thinking, ‘is this it, or is there more to come'. John sat on the edge of the sofa and dug into his jean's pockets for a box of cigarettes and a lighter. Lying there with skirt hitched and knees open, I wondered what I was supposed to do next. He looked at my pussy and said, "We'll clean up after I've smoked this, there's fucking blood everywhere". I was aware of the concept of having one's cherry popped, but I never imaged it would be so messy and bloody. John offered me a cigarette. Having pinched the odd cigarette from my mother since I was about 12, I gladly accepted. After that we barely talked. We scrubbed the sofa, and I cleaned myself up the best I could with toilet tissue. John went to bed leaving me somewhat confused and frustrated.

John and I had sex one more time before his return to the navy. It was slightly different. Whereas before he solely concentrated on getting his end away, this time he relieved me of my top and bra to expose my pathetic meagre 30aa tits. I had been very protective of my tits, and rightly so. Whereas other girls developed, what can be described as, soft shapes and curves on their chest, mine looked like mother nature had indiscriminately planted tiny flesh covered cones on either side of my pale flat torso. He didn't say as much, but I could tell he found them amusing. It didn't stop his sucking the whole tit into his mouth and chewing on my prominent nipples.

Fast forward three-week. John was back with the navy, I was still basking in the fact I was no longer a virgin...and, oh, yes, I hadn't had a period for a good seven-week. I was slightly concerned, but not overly as I convinced myself it was a blip due to my introduction to sexual intercourse and it would soon remedy itself. I gave it a few weeks before seriously getting worried...worried enough to confide in mum. She wasn't exactly the most understanding of women and when I told her she was more concerned about how folk would perceive her rather than my predicament. Typically, she was angry, upset and disappointed. She refused to tell my dad until we knew I was pregnant and promptly marched me to the doctors. In those days it took a couple of weeks for results to come through. When I got them, it was confirmed I was indeed pregnant, and twelve weeks pregnant at that. I remember standing by the window at my parent's house, full of fear and shame as mum told dad in the kitchen. I had absolutely no idea how dad would react, but he took it well, in fact the only thing he said to me was, "you're going have to think carefully about what you are going to do because your mum won't want to be looking after a baby whilst you're at work", and "keep it to yourself, don't tell anyone, not even Paul, Mary, and Ann (my siblings).

A week later the decision as to whether I should keep the baby was made for me. My parents, John's parents, and even John by proxy from the navy, decided I should have an abortion. Part of me wanted to keep the baby but the stigma of an unmarried 16yo mother in 1975, in a close-knit community, together with the shame and embarrassment it would cause me and my family, I thought was just too much. I had the termination a few days later, July 1975. I did continue to see John after the abortion. He rarely came home but when he did, we spent most of the time fucking like rabbits, but I was on the pill.

I only ever went to town if invited by my work colleague or other friends, which was rare. I was far more at home drinking in Middies. Apart from my brother, who was a year older at 17, and a handful of others, the rest of the club customers were at least 10 years my senior. I did, however, get along with these and made a lot of friends. Two such friends were Len and Janice (not their real names). Len was six-foot plus, slim, with black rockabilly hair. His wife, Janice, was 5' 6', a little plumb, blonde hair and a shooting from the hip personality. They were both in their early 30s. I got the impression that Len was quite the lady's man.

It was around mid-August 1975, when one Saturday evening in the club, amongst the sound of chatter, Janice looked at me and blurted out, "You'll go to the nightclub with Len, won't ya? He wants someone to go with. I'm too tired and I need to be back for the kids". I looked at Len, he looked at me and for whatever reason, I found myself saying yes. We left Middies shortly after and embarked on a walk to town, talking mostly about my line of work, which served only as a polite conversation. The nightclub bouncers gave us the once over before allowing us in. There I was a 16yo who looked 12 trying to pass for an 18, with a guy 15 years older and over a foot taller. This must have suddenly dawned on Len because he chose to sit in the outreaches of the big disco hall, a corner where even the flashing lights didn't hit.

It got off to an awkward start but as the drinks flowed, we became more relaxed and towards the end were even dancing. It was when the slow numbers came on things dramatically changed.  The difference in size never proved a problem as we danced at close quarters. Electricity between us began to build. We kissed, a long lingering French kiss. Not the tongue wrestling kiss I was so used to with John but a soft and sensual kiss. He ran his hands along my back and clenched my buttocks. He rubbed his thigh between my legs. I could physically feel my pussy juices gushing like the Niagara Falls. If he wanted to fuck me there and then I wouldn't have been able to stop him. He had my heart and libido in the palm of his hand. I was in a sexual charged stupor as we returned to our seats. He put his arm around me, and we kissed again. His other hand stroked the tops of my thigh and then made its way under the hem of my skirt. He slipped his hand between my thigh. I had no control over my legs as they seemed to spread automatically to his touch. He worked his way to the crotch of my knickers and pulled it to one side before threading two fingers into my lavishly soaked hole. I could hear myself groaning but unable to stop. The fact that anyone could walk by and see me never occurred to me one iota. I was lost in this amazing world. He began to work on my clitoris. The sensation was so overwhelming that I feared I was about to lose my mind. I panicked and pushed away his hand. He tried again to slip his hand between my legs, but I pulled away from him and grabbed my drink. With my heart racing and sex hormones doing flip flops I could barely comprehend the question when asked if I wanted to sleep on the couch at his house, insisting his wife, Janice, wouldn't mind, I assumed his question was a coded message for saying, 'I want to fuck the arse off you when we get home' and so I said yes. 

We walked a different route home, one where a small area of grassland separated the town centre from a housing estate. This was where Len took hold of me and gently lowered me to the ground. He knelt by the side of me, lifted my skirt and pulled my knickers down and over my feet. He lifted my skirt over my pussy and as he gazed at it, I raised my knees and spread my legs in anticipation. The feeling of imminent hysteria had long since passed but I welcomed the feel of his fingers exploring the depths of my love hole. He pulled down his trousers, moved between my legs and aimed his cock towards my pussy. I caught a glimpse of what I thought was a monster of a cock and feared if he did get it in, he would split me in two. No such worries as my insatiable pussy seemed to devour the cock like a hungry snake gobbling its prey. In hindsight, and my short spell as sexual deviant, it was by far the most uncomfortable sex I had. It wasn't a reflection on Len but the for the bumps and stones digging in my back, which wasn't conducive for a skinny girl like me. It got to the point whereby I was desperate for him to cum, and when he did, what seemed like a lifetime later, I was only too quick to get to my feet.

Len wanted to protect what we had. I was all for going to the nightclub Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, if it meant I could experience that same sexual high, but Len wanted to play it cool. He wanted it to be a once a month thing. I was unable to understand why, but I reluctantly agreed.

The following few days I was so angry with myself for not letting go at the nightclub. I convinced myself it was only a once in a lifetime opportunity and I passed it by. No matter how much I tried masturbating to Len, I couldn't flow an ounce of juice, let alone a trickle needed to make me cum

As it transpired, I didn't have to wait a month, just a couple of weeks before we went back to a nightclub. It wasn't the same club. This one was a lot smaller, far less sophisticated. The bouncer just allowed me to roll right in. The people in there were a good deal older, some in their 40s and 50s. Both men and women looked sleezy and ropey. I looked totally out of place and felt I was always being leered at like a fish in a bowl.  I couldn't feel a vibe at the start and began to wonder what Len thought he would get from this. But alcohol is a wonderful thing to throw you out of kilter. Not any old alcoholic drink but vodka. Len introduced me to vodka, and after a few the nightclub grew on me.

There seemed to be a lot of kissing and groping going on throughout the room. A gaudy woman, who must have been in her 50s, looking ridiculous in a tiny black dress and fishnet stockings, was dancing with a guy who had his hands up her skirt, brutally grabbing her arse. It was such a strange environment for me, but at the same time the bawdiness of it all was getting me strangely excited.

It wasn't long before Len and I started kissing. We were sat at a table with our backs against the wall. He had his left arm around me. His right hand soon found its way under the table and onto my legs. At that point I didn't feel the sexual vibe. I was still on the bottom rung of my libido ladder and as such aware of how exposed I was to prying eyes. It never seemed to concern Len.  He slipped his hand between my thighs and wriggled his fingers towards my pussy. I was so reluctant to open my legs, but I did so anyway, and further opened them when his fingers moved aside the crotch of my knickers. My eyes remained shut as we kissed. I was scared to see what was happening around us. A few good strokes on my clitoris, however, sent me into a world where modesty came a poor second behind the compelling need to climax. I was determined this time to go all the way. The more he fingured me, the more I was unable to control my emotions. I was inadvertently releasing groans and my whole body started to tremble. The groans got louder and more frequent. My quivering legs took on a life of their own. I fought to hold back but I knew I had to let go...then WHOOSH. The lights seemed to go out momentarily. My pulsating pussy sent profound waves through my body. I could feel my pussy clamping ridiculously hard on Len's fingers. I waited until weathering the storm before opening my eyes. I had visions of folk gathered around watching me have my first orgasm, but everything was exactly how it was before my trip to ecstasy land. It took a while for me to recover. I felt shaky and light-headed. It was indeed a monumental moment in my life, and one I will never forget.