I wanted to melt into her. She looked into my eyes and then in that little sing-song ultra feminine voice she whispered, “I would really...I mean, I...want to be the one to, you know, like to be the one to take your cherry – if you would let me.” I don't know why, but I just never thought about this. I had always, like most girls, assumed that it would be a guy who took my cherry. When I was younger, I had romantic dreams of some handsome actor picking me up, and taking me to his bed, and slowly. “He’ll be able to tell you even more what it’s all about. After all, this time next year you’ll both be away at college.” “I know,” I replied, “it scares me a bit sometimes, leaving home.” “What about me?” she asked, smiling. “It will leave me and your father alone together in this house! All the time!” We both laughed. “You’ll enjoy it, really. I remember when I went off to Uni at your age….” she began. But suddenly I wasn’t listening. To my absolute horror, I felt a trickle of something. More

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