Perhaps this kind of story would be much wilder and much earlier for a guy, but keep in mind that I have always been a)
female and b) a geeky
bookworm. So it wasn't until I was in my early teens that I got my first real eyeful of...wait for it...
hot steamy sex.
And the funny part is, my mom gave it to me for Christmas.
Let me explain. This is where the "bookworm" part of the tale comes in, nice and early. I am a voracious reader, and back then reading is about all I ever did. I had no social life. I'd recently completed a really good book called "Clan Of The Cave Bear" by Jean M. Auel, the (obviously fictional) story of a Cro-Magnon woman raised by Neanderthals before the first Ice Age.
What my mother did next is by no way her fault. She knew I loved that book, and she also knew that there was a sequel on the shelves called "Valley Of The Horses." Her reasoning was kind-hearted and without flaw: My daughter read the first book to tatters, and look -- the sequel is apparently about horses, which she also loves to tatters. It's the perfect gift!
What neither Mom nor I knew was that after the first book Auel stopped aiming for her readers' grey matter and instead went straight for other parts of their bodies.
So I received "Valley Of The Horses" for Christmas. My joy knew no bounds, for the previous book had left off on a bit of an incomplete note with no sequel in sight, and I desperately wanted to know what happened to poor cast-out Ayla.
I found out what happened to her, all right. But before that I found out what happens when her hunky "destined true love" Jondalar, who seems to spend a lot of his time wandering around the prehistoric world rippling his muscles at sabretooth tigers, gets into the good graces of a clan chieftain who a) decides that his tribe would really appreciate mixing said hunk's blue eyes into the ol' genepool and b) has a pretty daughter in desperate need of deflowering.
In great detail.
For four straight pages.
Oh my.
And he hadn't even run into Ayla yet...
Needless to say, that book got very dogeared in several particular spots very fast. And when mom asked how the book was going...I told her it was going quite fine, thank you, and didn't mention why it was under my bed rather than on the bookshelf.
I do hope my mother never reads this. And to think she almost throttled me a while later when she caught me reading "Thinner" by Stephen King. A few paragraphs of hinted oral hijinks whilst behind the wheel of a car...? Oh please.
I'd read "Valley Of The Horses."