One boy, Jimmy Davis from down the street, had seen me with my shirt off. We'd been an item for a couple weeks and ended up making out in the backseat of his car behind the Wawa. This was pre-purity ring, but I already had the intention. Still, kissing was OK and maybe a couple other things if I was careful.
Jimmy got my shirt off and I was really super excited for what would come next. Then he looked at my little boobs like they were a turd-flavored cheesecake: something that was supposed to be awesome, somehow turned terrible. Suffice to say, Jimmy and I stopped being an item after that. Believe me, it was mutual.
All of this is the long way around of saying that no boy had ever seen my naked you-know-what. Even my gynecologist was a woman. And the first man to see it was going to be m
