This is the true story of how I lost my virginity. It is not extremely remarkable except for one point. It happened in the home of one of the richest billionaires in the world. How did a nerdy kid from a poor neighborhood end up having sex in his mansion you wonder? First I have to introduce my friend Shawn.

Shawn lived up the hill from me and was a couple of years older. Shawn’s father was a drunk who would come home after drinking and beat him up, so Shawn ran away. He ended up living in a shack that my brother had built down by the lake. We were sneaking food from our house down to the shack for a few weeks, but eventually, we were found out, and Shawn was sent back home.

Shawn was probably the most confident person I had ever known. He hated school, he hated authority, and he hated the police. The police were not that fond of Shawn. Shawn loved to party. He could do a tap hit from a beer barrel longer than anyone. He would do what he called nosers. He would put a US bong bowl to his nostril and suck the flaming marijuana ash into his nose. He would smoke pot on the school bus, he could shoot a beer in two seconds and he threw some of the biggest parties in town.

In 1979, it was the summer before my senior year of high school, I was eighteen years old. Shawn called me up and said he was throwing a party. He gave me the address. It was just up the hill from my house, and a couple of houses away from Shawn’s family home. He had a half barrel and when he said the place had an indoor pool, I didn’t believe him.

I drove up and it was the most luxurious place I had ever been in. Shawn had set up the keg on the astroturf beside the indoor pool. He had cranked the temperature of the pool up to bath water temperature. The usual gang had already shown up. My friend Josh was trying to tie his stereo system into the house PA. Pink Floyd, Styx, Supertramp, Kansas and Black Sabbath provided the soundtrack.

“Shawn, what the heck is going on?” I asked him. “Whose house is this? Did you break in?”

“Hell no,” he answered proudly. “I’m the babysitter! Mr. Big is out of town, and he asked me to watch his house.”

It turned out to be the home of a local millionaire, Mr. Big. Now this was before Mr. Big made his first billion and long before he started making regular appearances in Forbes. I have no clue what could have possessed Mr. Big to allow Shawn to watch his house. I think it may have been that they were neighbors and he knew Shawn’s family. Maybe he thought having the toughest kid in the neighborhood watch his house would prevent anyone else from vandalizing it? Maybe he just wanted to let Shawn have a good time. I have no clue why, but I was ready to enjoy it.

I don’t remember too much about the first part of the party. I drank a bit, I smoked some dope, I went swimming in the pool. Eventually, the keg tapped out. People started leaving. I fell asleep.

When I woke up, everyone had gone. Well, not quite everyone. I did not know Stacy very well. Her parents owned the local motorcycle shop. She lived in the neighborhood, but she went to the other high school in town. She rode a motorcycle, but I wasn’t really into motorcycles. I drove a VW beetle. Stacy was eighteen and had just graduated from high school.

Stacy had a decent body, although she was more lanky than curvy, and her build might be described as slightly masculine. Stacy’s main defect though was her face. I don’t remember exactly, after all these years, but it seems like it kind of resembled that of a horse. I was not one to judge a person solely on their looks, but the fact is, she was not what most people would consider to be pretty. I asked my brother recently if he remembered Stacy and he said, “Oh yeah, I remember her, she was really ugly!”

“Do you want to go skinny dipping?” she asked me.

I was not opposed to skinny dipping, but I remembered that she was dating Shawn’s little brother Keith. He was, in many ways, the opposite of Shawn. He was tall with blond curly hair and chiseled features. He seemed to maintain a perfect physique without working out. He was kind of a quiet guy.

“Aren’t you dating Keith?” I replied.

“Yeah, kind of. You know the problem with Keith? He was just so inexperienced when it came to, you know, sex. My previous boyfriend was really experienced. I just want to be with someone who knows more about what they are doing.”

It is possible she had mistaken me for my brother. My brother and I looked quite a bit alike. I remember being embarrassed that I was still a virgin at eighteen years of age. Times have changed.

“I hate to disappoint you,” I replied, “but I am not really experienced either. In fact, I’ve never actually done it.”

At this point, that apparently didn't matter. We stripped and jumped in the pool. The blue light of the pool cast ripples of light over our naked bodies giving them an otherworldly glow. I swam over to her, wrapped my arms around her, pressed her breasts against me and gave her a kiss. I reached down and started rubbing her pussy in the water. She felt my cock which was already hard.

She suggested we go over to a pool lounge chair. She was lying on her back and I was positioned between her legs and about to enter her when I suddenly remembered something.

“Wait, I don’t have a condom,” I protested.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m on the pill!” she reassured me.

With the last of my objections swept away, I dove in so to speak. I would like to say it was a fantastic sexual experience, but that would not be quite accurate. I probably didn’t really know much about how female lubrication worked at the time. I had seen plenty of movies about people supposedly making love in a pool or right after swimming. My own experience is that swimming pool water tends to sort of dry out the vagina. If I had been more experienced, I might have known that sucking on a woman’s tits, rubbing her vagina and clit a bit, or even a deep sensual kiss on the mouth can get the lubrication going. If only Monty Python’s Meaning of Life had come out a couple of years earlier.

Instead, I suppose I rushed things a little. Can you blame me? She was a little dry when I started pumping into her. It was not long before I came inside of her. I rolled off of her and we both fell asleep. I woke up before Stacy, I got dressed and left. I never dated her or really saw her again. In fact, I wasn’t really sure I remembered her name. I kind of wished I had gotten to know Stacy better. She was the type of woman who enjoyed sex and wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted. We may have hit it off if I had given her a chance. I happened to mention her to my brother. He is very good at names. He remembered her name.

A quick search on the internet revealed that she still lives in town, and she is on Facebook. Interesting.