New Year's Eve 1976, and I was in Middies getting slowly drunk. There was a solo singer on stage, rolling out 1950s and 60s songs, mostly Cliff Richards. We rarely had bands on, the stage wasn't big enough and on the few times we had them on, the drummer was only inches away from striking the bass guitarist with his drumstick. I was sat enjoying myself with the usual crowd. Everyone was in, Len, Mick, Vin, all with their wives, and Bob with his girlfriend, Kath.

Kath was just five years older than me, with long red hair and freckles. She was a good 10 years younger than Bob and due to be his second wife later in the year. She was the total opposite to Bob, in that she was quiet and reserved. We rarely saw her in the club

My brother Paul was also in the club. It was the first time I had seen him since the Wednesday. It was exciting to look at him knowing his fingers had been in my pussy.

Midway through the night and my mood changed for the worse. Len grabbed my shoulder as I was heading to the toilet, and whispered in my ear, "Cheers for telling Bob, you've dropped me right in it". He walked away without another word. I rushed to the toilets and started to cry. The way I interpreted things was Len had finished with me, and Janice knew about her hubby and me. I don't know what I found the most fearful, Len dumping me or being on the wrong side of Janice

Len called on me the next day. He had been in Middies and saw my family there, so knew it was safe to come around. We talked in the living room, well when I say talked it was more a chastisement. He never raised his voice, but he was clearly worried. He went on to inform me that Bob had been boasting about having me. I was hugely disturbed by this and knew I would be the topic on everyone's lips at Middies. Not only that but what about my parents? They were sure to hear the rumours. My reputation would be shot, and I would be the one thing I resented the most, being thought of as a slut. When Len was about to leave, he dropped an enormous bombshell, which was totally out of mood and context at what we had been talking about. He said a guy who he was sat with last night, ‘fancied me'. I knew who he was talking about. He was in his mid-30s, a tall thick set man with a beard and moustache. He had only very recently moved to the estate. His name was Mike, his wife Christine. I did notice he was giving me the eye in the club last night, but I thought it was because he had been told of me and my exploits. I soon got the gist as to where this was going when Len said to me, "Shall I tell him it's okay to come around and see you?". I wasn't attracted to Mike one iota but what else could I have said other than "Yes" ... well ‘no' I suppose but I felt I was doing Len a favour, and I figured I needed make lots of ground to make up.

The following day was Sunday. I was at a very low ebb. Not taking the pill didn't seem like such a good idea. I went to the club every Sunday afternoon for the domino handicap. I dreaded going today knowing what folk knew about me, but I had to go sometime. As it happened, it wasn't as bad as I feared. I thought I was getting some looks but that may have been paranoia. Bob came up to me, however, and asked if I had sorted the school uniform out because he planned on visiting the next day.

I stood most of the Monday morning gazing outside the front window from my grandmother's room. My dad and Paul were at work, and Mary and Ann at school. I was waiting for my mum to go out. She often nipped out in the morning, whether it was to the laundrette, butchers, or shops. She never went out until gone 11am, and when she did, I snuck around to her house, let myself in, and searched around for my old school uniform. I searched everywhere and finally found my old clothes stuffed in a white bag at the bottom of Mary's wardrobe. I brought them home with me, along with my Santa outfit that I found lying on the floor. There weren't that many clothes in the bag, but what there were smelt very fusty...I did find grey skirts and white blouses I used to wear for school, and even a school tie.

True to his word Bob arrived at my house around 7pm. I challenged him straight away regarding gossiping about me, and in his thick Geordie accent, he replied, "He was being a smug twat, tried preaching to me about having it away with you because of how young you were. All I said was, it doesn't stop you" ... "And what did he say?" I asked. "Nothing, he just shut up" ... "I can't believe you even told people about us", I protested. "So, you're single?" ... "Yeah but you're not and I don't want to be the talk of the club" ... "She's not my wife yet, and she knows I fuck around anyway" ... "But everyone thinks I am a slag now". Bob pondered for a short while. "I'd take that as a compliment". Bob had an answer for everything and incapable of seeing how it affected me. He did assure me that he never told anyone about me and Neville.

Bob was keen to look at my old school uniform. We went to my bedroom. The uniform was still crumpled up in the bag along with the other clothes. I took out a white blouse, grey skirt, and school tie. Bob looked disappointed, "Is that it?", he asked, "Where's the white socks and dark blue knickers?", he said grinning. I took him literally and tried to explain that I use to wear ankle socks. "I'm expecting schoolgirl white socks and dark blue knickers next time...and a lot shorter skirt". I was still naïve when it came to fetishes and role play. I looked at him gone-out. "It's a fantasy of mine...", he continued, "...should see our lass in one, I've even shaved her hairs of her fanny, so she looks the part".

Shaving pubic hair kind of resonated with me. A few times when I shaved my legs in the bath, with a Bic Lady razor, 1970s bulky style, I so often wanted to shave my pubic hairs. I thought my paltry mound was damned ugly. A bit like my breasts, I fell well short of the complete article. I did have pubic hair, of course, but my pussy resembled an Autumn bush after shedding leaves as opposed to one in full bloom.

Bob and I got into bed and I started proceedings by sucking him off. He then introduced me to the 69 position. Although I found it a little uncomfortable, I really enjoyed it. Bob knew how to use his tongue, and exactly where to employ it. As he continued to suck and nibble my sex blossom, I became increasing more pleasure-seeking and started to ignore his cock. I soon found myself on my arms and brushing my pussy hard against his face, but my pussy was crying out to be filled. I needed his cock inside me and needed it desperately. I jumped on his rod and started to ride him, but I just couldn't find the rhythm or technique needed to satisfy an uncompromising urge. I had never felt like this. I just knew, on an emotional level, that something incredible was about to happen if I could just hit right the spot, something far greater than I had ever experienced. I began to get frustrated and my fucking became tiresome and ungainly. Bob rolled me from his waist and onto my back. He opened my legs and impaled three or four fingers deep into my despairing hole and vigorously thrusted them in and out. At the same he time brutishly rubbed my clitoris with his other hand. He was rough, excessively rough, and it hurt immensely. I started to lose all sense of reality. Bob had a look on his face that scared me...a sadistic self-satisfying look. He pummelled my pussy from every angle, twisting his fingers, stretching my lips, scratching and nipping my vaginal walls. I could not control my facial expressions or the weird noises I was making...but these were from pain, not pleasure. Then suddenly WHOOSH...every part of my body started to involuntary shake. I let out noises I thought I was incapable of making. I started to climax, not only that but with each orgasmic throb, fluid, which I was convinced was urine, squirted at great velocity over the bed. Bob removed his hand, knelt back and watched the jet stream of fluid zoom pass him, "Fucking hell, now that's what you call squirting", he laughed. I could hear it splash on the wardrobe door which was two-foot away from the bottom of my bed. I tried to stop it, I tried to clench my vaginal muscles, but the pressure was too great. It seemed an age before it began to subside, and as soon as I dared, I darted naked downstairs, and even then, I was still peeing on the steps. My aim was to go to the loo but by the time I had reached the kitchen I was only dribbling. My head was buzzing, and I felt beyond embarrassed. I made my way back upstairs. Bob was laid on the bed, his arms behind his head, and sporting a huge grin, "Are you okay?". I was trembling and feeling sick, "Not really" ... "Why what's up" ... "I just peed myself", I replied nonchalantly. "You didn't piss yourself, you daft fucker, you squirted, that's all". I hadn't a clue what he was talking about. "It's cunt juice you squirted, it's not piss"

Bob went on to explain the phenomena of ‘squirting' and said I was the first girl he had been with who squirted, but it fell on deaf ears. I was convinced it was urine and nothing he could say would convince me it wasn't. 

I sat down on the edge of the bed, still smarting from what happened and really wanting Bob to go home. Bob put his arm around me and forced his hand between my legs. Despite my pussy feeling battered and bruised, I let him prod around. "Go and get me a soapy flannel and a razor, I'll shave you". I wanted to say ‘no', but I was still reeling from embarrassment and feeling very vulnerable. I very reluctantly got exited the bedroom and returned with a Bic razor and a dripping soapy sponge. I was instructed to lay on my back. Bob sat beside me and drenched my pubic region before tearing through my pubic hairs with the razor. It took about 15 minutes before he finished, "That's fucking beautiful now". I sat up and glanced down at my bald pussy, which now looked like it did when I was ten. Bob went down on me again and then fucked me. Before he left, Bob instructed me to keep shaving my pussy and reminded me about the uniform.

That night was a night of deep reflection on what I had become. I started to beat myself up, wishing I had never got into this seedy world of sex.

I awoke feeling a bit better, and to a stale smell. It was my first day back at work. On days I was working I would usually make my grandmother breakfast and a drink, and my mum would call around a bit later to help her dress.

My grandmother was a very old looking 73-year-old. She was heftily built and since my grandad died rarely ventured out of the front room where she slept, ate and watched television. She would get out of bed but only onto a chair. We often took her out in her wheelchair.

The downer I had on sex only lasted a couple of days before I was ripe and ready for more, but it wasn't forthcoming. On the two occasions I saw Neville, I asked him if he wanted to meet up, but both times he said he was busy. I found out through my mother that he had started answering personal ads from the newspaper and meeting other women. It was a huge kick in the teeth for me, and I wasn't only devastated but I felt used, like he only wanted me to take his virginity and practice on. I had the school uniform sorted, skirt taken up, washed, ironed, white socks, and dark blue knickers, but no interest from Bob at the club. I kept on shaving my pussy, and getting sore rashes and cuts, but to no avail. The guy, Mike, who Len said, ‘fancied me', never materialised, and I had given up on Len.