For men of my generation sex education was as lacking as reliable information about dental hygiene. If ever I see anyone in their 50s with bad teeth I always suspect they had a tormented adolescence like me.
Studying reproductive organs in biology textbooks is no preparation for pressing questions about sexual congress.
While watching an old movie where a man and women were kissing and whispering sweet nothings to each other, my Dad told me this was called ‘smooching‘ but didn’t expand on what it signified. If there were any steamier scenes or nudity on TV my mother would hastily switch channels commenting “this is a load of rubbish”.
The consequence of this was that I reached puberty fascinated by, yet ignorant of, the intricacies of the female anatomy.
Feeling a girl’s erect nipples press against my back in a crowded school tuck shop was as exciting as my sex life got. My porn consisted of ogling the models in the lingerie section of my mother’s mail order shopping catalogues. Continue reading
