Tuesday, 6 December 2016

1979: Matriculation Day

On the Saturday at the end of the first week at Oxford, all the new students had to take part in the matriculation ceremony at the Sheldonian Theatre. Matriculation was where you became an official member of the university and agreed to abide by its rules.  The University even had its own police (known as bulldogs), courts and even laws.  The death penalty, for example, remained in place under Oxford University laws for some time after it was abolished in the rest of the country.

For matriculation and during exams you had to wear full academic dress, or sub fusc.  For men this was a dark suit, a white shirt, white bow tie, gown and mortar board.  And dark socks.  They took these things seriously (especially the socks).  In my third year someone was not permitted to enter the Examination Schools to do his finals because his socks were red.  He had to rush back to College and change them. All of these clothes I had to buy, at great expense, in my first few days. 

I went up to C's room that Saturday morning to pick her up before breakfast before the ceremony.  Her new friend K, from upstairs in her staircase, was there too, both were dressed in the women's sub fusc of black skirt and tights, white shirt, black ribbon tie (rather like what people in westerns used to wear), gown and a soft cap instead of a mortar board.  Women today are allowed to wear black trousers instead of a skirt but I never saw that when I was there. The two girls both looked very smart.  K was a couple of inches taller than C and was built like A, slim and boyish.  She had short, thick, dark brown hair and deep brown eyes. C was rather taciturn and enjoyed companionable silence.  K never stopped talking. Ever. There was a character called Kiki the Frog on a children's TV programme called Hector's House at the time and we both thought that K was very like Kiki, When C wasn't in my company she was in K's, that first year.  We all became very close friends. 

My biggest issue that day was tying my bow tie; something I had never done before. There were no YouTube videos to watch then, just a series of frankly baffling diagrams included in the grey plastic wallet from Shepherd & Woodward.  Given I had trouble tying my shoelaces then, a bow tie was well beyond my capabilities. C tried to help but we were getting nowhere. 

"For heaven's sake!" chipped in K.  She stood in front of me and tied it in about ten seconds.  She explained that she always did her father's for him.  He was a prominent barrister (although K was not doing Law) and went to many formal events in London. 

Breakfast was never very exciting.  Porridge, cereals, a roll and butter, orange juice and tea.  On Saturdays you could pay extra for a (very small) cooked breakfast. Not many people went to Saturday breakfast although that day it was busy  After breakfast we had to sign the register, to become a member of College and then we all trooped into the seventeenth century Sheldonian Theatre (fortunately only a hundred yards from College) for the ceremony. much of which was in Latin, of course.  Our college is the only one on Radcliffe Square and we just had to cross the corner of it, cut through the Bodleian Library square and into the theatre.  K said that Radcliffe Square had been called the most beautiful square in the world and it was certainly stunning, on what was a bright, sunny morning. The first half of the month was quite warm for the time of year with a lot of sun and temperatures in the high sixties (we had not moved to Centigrade at that point, in Britain) .  However, my recollection of Oxford was that it was mostly grey and damp and the limestone buildings seemed to soak up moisture like a sponge.  In the summer it could be truly lovely but we were not there from mid-June through to the second week of October so we missed most of the nice weather.  Oxford sits in a bowl and the rain used to hang above it in a permanent gloomy cloud as though afflicted by some curse of the rain Gods.

After the matriculation ceremony we had to return to College for a freshers photo of the whole year, taken in the main quad.  We balanced precariously on planks for the photo (not C and K as they were with the little people at the front) while the photographer messed about.  I was looking to see if there were any other nice looking girls in the year and noticed J, another petite redhead I had met earlier in the week, J a statuesque medic  and V, a physicist with a thick mop of blonde hair. Frankly, there were not a lot of other attractive women there, I decided.  C and J had a chat and discovered they were being mistaken for each other, given they both had long red hair and were the same height.

C and I had wanted a quiet rest of the day to get on with some jobs and shopping but we hadn't counted on the party atmosphere of matriculation day, where many students were already drinking Champagne at 10.30 in the morning.  We were invited into one of our fellow fresher's rooms for drinks before lunch although C and I slipped away just before lunch to get our washing on the go in the subterranean laundry.  Between us we managed to work out how the coin operated washing machine worked and, fortunately, C had washing powder. I tried to kiss C in the laundry (so to speak) but she was worried her lipstick would smudge so told me I had to wait until later.   I kissed her neck instead (she had put her hair up), which she always enjoyed and gently caressed her bust while she ground her bottom against my groin.

We left our clothes getting 'frisky with each other', according to C (although a lot of her clothes were silk and needed hand washing) and went to lunch.  Most people, including C, had kept their sub fusc on but I had rid myself of my suit when I went up to get my laundry.  I was not used to wearing a suit and tie and didn't feel comfortable in it at all.

At lunch, everyone was in high spirits (some people's spirits were rather higher than others) and we were invited to drinks after dinner in Hall by one of the second year law students..   C decided this student was very 'dreamy' but she had, I discovered, a thing about posh boys from public schools.  This was a common female affliction at Oxford, I discovered.  The public school boys took great advantage of panting young Grammar school girls but discarded them like crumpled (and dare we say, stained) tissues.  I eventually worked out a system of identifying and consoling these rebound ladies to both of our mutual satisfaction. The biggest hunting ground was the Oxford Union Bar where eager young fresher girls would display themselves quite unashamedly, as we will see in a future episode.

We went shopping after lunch, having recovered our washing and were joined by K, somewhat to our annoyance, as her presence stopped any tactile moments in the hidden recesses of places like The Paperback Shop. This, an offshoot of the venerable Blackwells, was one of my favourite shopping destinations and had an excellent selection of Dragon's Dream SF and fantasy art books by the likes of Roger Dean and other artists I had enjoyed on the pages of Science Fiction Monthly.  I also bought the first couple of novels by a (now notorious) author called John Norman whose novels about the planet Gor, started as a pastiche of Edgar Rice Burroughs-style SF adventure and gradually transformed, over multiple novels, to be about the sexual submission of women.  The first ones, before they became incredibly repetitive, were good mindless reading, after a day of struggling with Roman or Criminal Law.

While I looked at the science fiction section C appeared brandishing a book with a familiar white cover.  "Look!  Emmanuelle!  You can buy it for me and read it to me!" said C. Typically, she did not offer to buy it herself but I thought it was probably worth 60p to get her worked up.  "Read this!" she had her finger stuck in a passage.  I read it and discovered it was a graphic description of fellatio. "Tonight!  If you buy it for me!"  She gave me a naughty smile.  Who could resist? "Don't let K see it, though!"  K was browsing the Penguin Classics upstairs.  C squeezed my groin and went upstairs to distract her while I paid for the books.

I found all of my art materials, paper and charcoal, in WH Smiths, bought some Blue-tack and more arty postcards for the wall of my room in Athena (there were no rules about not sticking pictures to the wall in those days). We went to a little place in St Michael's Street, opposite the Oxford Union, for early afternoon tea and a scone.  Both the girls were still in sub fusc (or 'sub fucs' as K, rather naughtily, called it) but then so were many of the other freshers around town that day. 

"What are you going to draw?" asked K, looking at my large drawing pad, sticking out the top of my Smiths bag.

"I don't know," I said, deliberately not looking at C who was kicking me under the table.

"You could draw me!" said K.

"I think not!" said C, firmly.

"You could draw us both!" persisted K. "C could be a pre-Raphaelite maiden and I could be her ardent Spanish (she was part Spanish) lover.  A boy lover of course. Not a girl.  Although that might be fun too!" C looked interested, at this point.

"Did you see how she was flirting with you?" said C, later, as I had another tea back in C's room at about three in the afternoon. K had come back with us but had nipped off to the loo. C was drinking one of her German rosehip teas.  This looked lovely, with its clear red appearance but tasted like iron filings.  All of her fruit teas were disgusting but, again, she preferred the look to the taste.  She also had a thing about lebkuchen, a sort of soft, spicy German biscuit.  Frankly, I would rather have a ginger nut.  Lebkuchen were difficult to get and expensive and therefore, for C, desirable.  I said I didn't think K was flirting with me at all.

"Yes she was!" insisted C.   I said it was more like that K was flirting with C.  C agreed that there was an element of that.  "She has a lovely bottom, Don't you think she has a lovely bottom?" asked C.  I thought carefully before answering.

"It's OK.  Not as nice a yours!"  C smiled and gave me a kiss. In fact, K had a sensational arse, high and taut, which she emphasised by wearing skin tight denims which C and I wondered how she actually got into, they were so tight. C gave me another kiss and soon we were snogging away as C had removed her lipstick and make-up after lunch. K didn't knock when she returned but we just had time to break apart before she came into the room.

"What are you two talking about?" asked K, looking suspicious.

"Your bottom!" said C.

"What about it?" asked K trying to look over her shoulder at it. C told her how nice it was and proceeded to stroke and squeeze it while looking at me as if to say she won't let you do this.

K asked C if she had any biscuits which she didn't.  I said I had some and so we relocated to my room, which K hadn't seen before.  She was very jealous of my gas fire which we soon had going as the temperature was starting to drop. K also liked my big hospital bed , which was a foot wider than the beds in the girls' rooms.  She lay down on it and rolled about, much to C's annoyance, I could tell.  C had never been in my bed as we had all our sensual episodes on the rug in front of the gas fire.

The two girls helped stick my arty postcards to the wall. Most were of female nudes and the two would often buy me another card if they saw one in the shops. Both girls lay in front of my fire, drinking tea, with a plate of chocolate digestives between them, while I sat in my armchair and contemplated getting my drawing things out.  C was stroking K's thigh, which I found very exciting, particularly as K seemed to like having her thigh stroked. K liked my rooms but I moaned about the fact that I had to go downstairs to fill the kettle and that the bathroom was in the basement. She said she couldn't get by without her washbasin and I said how cold and horrible the bathroom was on my staircase. K, who always knew everything that was going on, said that there was one nice bathroom in college, on the staircase next to the law library but it was nearly always occupied.  I decided to have a look at it, although I didn't mention it to K.

Then there was a knock on my door and it was E, from my school, coming to say hello. I was delighted to invite him into a room strewn with lovely girls. You could see from his face he was envious as he was at one of the remaining all boys colleges. He was doing History, like K, so they had a good chat. He didn't say anything but we could tell he wasn't settling in that well with the workload, even one week in. The Historians had to do a key exam at the end of the first term which they had to pass in order for them to remain at Oxford. Someone had said that Oxford first year historians had the highest suicide rate of any academic course in the world except for the Japanese Civil Service entrance exams. K saw my school friend out of College so they could chat about some History thing and said she would see us at dinner.

I asked C if she had told K about us.  She said she hadn't and wasn't intending to.  I told her she couldn't moan if K was flirting, then.  She then said that I had insisted K wasn't flirting and now I was changing my testimony. C was one of those people who liked picking arguments for the sake of it.  No doubt this was why she became a lawyer.  I told her that if she didn't stop it I'd spank her.

"You can't say things like that unless you back up your statements with action!" she said.  I reached out, from where I was sitting in my armchair, and made a grab for her.  Laughing, she leaped out of the way and I chased her around the room before grabbing her around the waist, dropping back on to my chair and pulling her over my knees.  I spanked her a couple of times through her thick wool skirt. "That's no punishment.  That's pathetic!" she said.  I started to undo the buttons of her skirt and she wriggled encouragingly.  "That's better!" she said as I pulled her skirt down her thighs.  I wasn't actually finding the situation sexual, just a joke, until that point, when I saw that she was wearing black silk knickers and black stockings.  I stroked her silk clad posterior and she squirmed, invitingly, across my lap.  I spanked her a couple of times but not very hard.  "Harder than that!" she goaded me.  "I need to tingle!" I started to pull her knickers down and she helpfully lifted her hips for me.  This time I gave a her a couple of sharp wacks.  "Oh! Better!" she cried.  Her soft bottom quivered and a pink patch appeared.

I had never, ever even dreamed of hitting a girl and found it quite difficult to do so but she seemed to genuinely enjoy it and I could see (and smell) that she was getting moist. I was also entranced by her neat anus; the first time I had really seen one close up.  I spanked her a couple more times. "That's enough!" I said, tickling her parts with my finger.  "You weren't that naughty!"  I pulled her knickers back up.

"You can't leave me like this!  You need to finish me off!" she wailed.

"Later!" I said. "Anyway, it's time for Dr Who!"

"Cruel person!" she said, pulling her skirt up and buttoning it up, again. We went to watch Dr Who in the JCR TV room.  It was packed but we were glad we would be able to keep up with it while we were at College, as it was so popular.  It was the classic story, City of Death and parts of it had been expensively shot in Paris. I was glad that C liked Dr Who as well.  We sat next to a fresher Mathematician,who may be known to readers of my other blogs as Agent DVD.

After dinner we went around to the second year lawyer's room with some of the other freshers.  He had a really large room decorated with pictures of women cut out from the pages of Vogue, which C thought was very stylish.  C flirted outrageously with all the male lawyers there and drank enough Port to get her giggly.  Every social event at Oxford seemed to be accompanied by alcohol and C was  small and not as used to it as I was.

As soon as we returned to my room and I had started the gas fire, C jumped me and wrestled me to the rug in front of the fire. We started snogging and she pulled at my clothes, frantically stripping me completely. I got her down to her black underwear. Although I removed her bra and knickers, I hesitated over her suspender belt and stockings.

"Don't know what to do, eh? Off or on?" she teased. It was true, I loved the way her black suspender belt and stockings framed her bright orange pussy. I placed the palm of my hand over her soft, hot mound and rubbed, grinding the heel of my palm on her stiff little clitoris. She had very prominent parts, which I loved. She straddled my thigh and rubbed against my leg with her hot pussy. She knelt between my legs, massaging my cock.  She started to suck my knob. "Are you going to come for me!" she asked, popping off me. "Is it building?  Are you going to spurt?"

"Any second!" I sighed, as she continued to gently massage me with her hand.  Suddenly, she stood up. "Get dressed!" she ordered.

 "What? Now?" I said, having been just seconds from coming.

 "Yes! I want chocolate! Go and get it for me!" She stood there with her hands on her hips trying to look assertive. I frowned. "You spank me, wind me up and then don't finish me off! Now you can see what it is like!"

"You're evil!" I said, resignedly picking up my shirt. When I was dressed she rubbed herself up against me, seductively, still just dressed in her black stockings. "I'm not evil, just a femme fatale!" she said. I had to go across New Quad to the vending machine next to the law library. I knew that C liked Lion Bars, which at that time had only been available a year or so.  I put in the money and pushed the button and watched the spiral rotate until it fell into the metal hopper. The first time we had used it C had said how the 'screwing built anticipation and then the drop into the hopper was like an orgasm'. She did seem to think about sex quite a lot.  And chocolate.

 J, C's tutorial partner (who she fancied but thought was gay) came out of the law library and asked me where C was, as he wanted to talk to her about the next essay. He said that she wasn't in her room and had run into K who had said to try my room but he didn't know which room I was in. I said I didn't know where she was. He then said that D had said that C was always in my room. I explained that I had a gas fire and she didn't. He looked at me suspiciously but left, fortunately.

I took the opportunity to go upstairs and look at the semi-mythical 'nice bathroom' K had told us about. It was, indeed, large as was the bath and was warm. It even had plants in it, in pots. It looked very promising. As I came down the stairs H, from Scotland, was also in front of the vending machine. "Hah!" he exclaimed in delight. He told me that if you put the money in and pushed two buttons simultaneously you could sometimes get two things for the price of one. We tried it on Lion Bars and sure enough I got two. Given the amount of chocolate C needed this could be very useful. I was on my way back to my room and then ran into A. another fellow lawyer from the staircase next door. He wanted to chat too and so by the time I got back to my rooms I had been away about twenty minutes. C was gone but had written me a note. 'Too slow!  Back soon.  Noel can look after you!"

Noel was her hideous dead (obviously) pine marten stole. She had draped it over the arm of my chair. It was a nineteen twenties narrow fur wrap, which still had the head, feet and tail of the creature on it, with a sort of peg effect where the jaws used to be, so she could wrap it around her shoulders and clip it onto itself. She  treated it more like a pet than an article of clothing. It was vile but she loved it and wore it a lot.  She would stroke it and talk to it.  She also had an old, brown fur coat which made her look like a small bear. People didn't worry about wearing fur in those days.

I noticed that she had put her little plastic contact lens pots on my mantelpiece.  I looked at my watch.  It was gone ten o'clock.  She came back to my room about ten minutes later.  She smelled of a floral perfume.  I hadn't noticed her wearing perfume before and I complimented her on it  She said it was Chanel No 19 eau de parfum.  She explained that this was more expensive than eau de toilette.  I had not appreciated all the different grades of scent.  She had changed out of her sub fusc and was now wearing a dark blue cocktail dress with sequins on it. A bit odd to start changing outfits at gone ten, I thought.

"Are you going out?" I asked.  She had a cloth bag with her.

"Where is my chocolate?" she said, ignoring my question.  I opened my biscuit tim and showed her the three Lion Bars.  I told her about the trick of getting two bars out.  She looked pleased.  She looked even more pleased when I told her about the bathroom I had looked at.

"What's in the bag?" I asked her.

"Things!" she said, enigmatically. She opened the door to my bedroom and went inside.  She came back out again fairly quickly.  "Cold!"  She wanted me to leave the door open so it could pick up some heat from the gas fire but I explained that you ended up with two not very warm rooms rather than one warm one and one cold one. She unwrapped a Lion Bar and had me hold it for her so she could bite pieces off it; feeding her like an animal. She gobbled it down remarkably quickly. Two for one would definitely be an advantage.

"I've decided to give you a present!" she said.  I looked for her bag but she must have taken it into my bedroom, oddly. I told her that I didn't really need a present but it was lovely thought. "You have to unwrap it!" she said, turning her back on me and showing me the buttons down the back of her dress.

"This does look like a lovely present!" I said, undoing the first button and kissing her neck, after scooping her long red hair over one shoulder.  Another button.  Another kiss.  She said I was very good at unwrapping. Soon she was able to step out of her dress and turned around.  She hadn't just changed her outerwear but her underwear too.  She was now wearing blue silk and lace French knickers and a matching camisole.  The latter was very sheer and her rosy nipples were visible through it.  She had pale blue stockings and a suspender belt on too.  She looked sensational, as I told her.  She grinned.

"Now I'm going to unwrap you too!" She did so but stripped me off completely, so I was standing in front of her naked, my cock at full elevation. She stepped towards me and took hold of it.  "What do you call it?"


"What do you call it?  Don't all men give their's names?"  she asked, massaging it gently. I said I hadn't got  a name for it.  She squatted down in front of me and kissed it. I stroked her hair. I bent down and pulled her camisole over her head. She stood up and it was my turn to squat down as I pulled her French knickers down over her thighs.  I kissed her orange bush and smelled her musky scent.  She was very aroused.  I flicked my tongue across her clitoris. She was undoing her suspenders and I gently rolled her stockings down. She held out her hand.  "Come!"  She led me into the chilly bedroom and pulled back my sheet and blankets.  There was a hot water bottle in the middle of the bed, which she must have put in there earlier.  She pushed it further down the bed and climbed in.  I got in after her.  Despite the warm patch, it was quite cold and we cuddled up underneath the covers.  Soon we were kissing and rubbing against each other.  I slipped my knee between her thighs and felt her hotness on my skin.  She writhed as I pressed against her pussy.  I was on top of her now and she guided me with her hand so I was completely between her thighs.  I was a bit worried that I might squash her but I supported myself on my forearms as we kissed, liquidly.  My cock was rubbing against her bush and she was gently moving her pelvis. Her hand slid between our bodies, gripping me.  "I want it inside me!" she said.

"Really?  Are you sure!" I asked, my heart pounding.  Everything seemed to go into slow motion. We had warmed up the bed and although the lights were off in my bedroom the desk light and fire were still on in my living room.  There was enough light to see her lovely face.

"Yes!  Now!" she said. Was this going to be it?  It, It, It?  I prodded at her pussy gently with my cock but realised it wasn't as easy as that. She had let go of me so I took myself in hand and extended my index finger.  I located her wet entrance and guided my erection down my finger until my knob entered her entrance.  I paused and looked at her, giving her an opportunity to change her mind.  She looked at me, smiled and put her hands on my bottom, pulling me closer.  I wriggled up the bed an inch or too and gently pushed in.  I expected some resistance; a barrier, even, but there was just hot, liquid softness that felt like it was sucking me in.  I pushed in up to the hilt and paused.  "Oh!" she sighed.

"Are you alright? Does it hurt? I asked, anxiously.

"No! It's lovely.  Strange but lovely!" she said and we kissed. I just lay there looking at her smiling face, the head of my cock lodged deep inside her hot cunt. "I think you're supposed to move!" she said, after a while.  I was so excited that I thought that if I did move I might come instantly.  I should have got a Durex.  They had a machine in the gents next to the JCR.  Right by the vending machine, in fact.  But she hadn't suggested one and I didn't want to shatter the moment.  I pulled gently out and then pushed back in. "Oh God!" she said, biting her lip.  It, It, It! I thought.  We were doing It!  "Keep doing that!" I did but very slowly and gently. We kissed as I continued to slide in and out of her, very, very slowly. I couldn't hold it any longer. the sensation, physically and emotionally was too overwhelming  I pulled out of her and came all over her tummy.  She covered my face in kisses. I knew she hadn't come so I slid off her and put my fingers inside her and started to flick her clitoris with my thumb. She can't have been very far behind me because it took about two minutes.  We lay together quietly, kissing each other occasionally.  "We've made love!  We're lovers!" she said, at last.  I couldn't think of anything to say.  I was dumbstruck.  We had been together just over a week. "I need the loo!" she said, after a while.

"I do too!" I said. We got out of bed.  She pulled out some slippers, a black sweat top and trousers from her bag, then a toothbrush and toothpaste.

"I'm staying the night!" she explained.  "In our lovers' garret!"

"How lovely!" I said. She opened the door carefully, looked around and then dashed out.  I put my pyjamas and dressing gown on and moved the hot water bottle in the bed.  I was looking for any signs of blood on my sheets but there was nothing, just a damp patch.  The bed smelled of sex, though.  Sex.  It!  I sniffed my fingers,  C had a very strong smell. Stronger than any other girls I had been with.  Not unpleasant but very musky, although there were overtones of Chanel No. 19 on my body too.  She returned shortly, smelling of peppermint and I went downstairs to the small bathroom in the next staircase.  My cock smelled of C and I wondered if I should try and wash it in the washbasin but thought better of it.  Anyway, I liked the smell.

When I got back to my room C was naked in my bed, shivering.  I stripped off too, switched off the lights and the gas fire and we cuddled up.  I lay on my side and she clamped onto my back. She put her hand over my hip and gently clasped my genitals.

"I love matriculating!" said C with a laugh.  "Tomorrow we can matriculate all day!" Despite the rather cramped bed we soon drifted off.  It, It, It! I thought, as I started to doze off, C's perky breasts pressed against my back and I could feel her soft bush brushing my bottom. Matriculation day! I had entered more than the university,  Marvellous!  


  1. Well, congratulations are in order, to your 18 (19?) year old self at any rate, on losing your virginity!

    I remember those nights squeezed into a single university bed with my then-girlfriend. It was quite a feat, as I recall!

    1. Especially with blankets rather than a quilt!

  2. What a fun, flirty first time tale :)

    1. I can still remember it all very clearly!

  3. How did you find such a girl?? Spankings?? I was determined to lose my virginity when I was and 18 year old freshman in college. So I set my sights on a 26 year old guy who was getting his college education on the G.I. Bill (free college education for veterans). We had sex on my parents sofa in the living room after which he promptly dumped me. Funny thing, though. He still carries a torch for me and remembers me as the one who dumped him!

    1. Strictly, she found me rather than I her. I never really pursued women at College they always seemed to approach me...

      C was interested in vintage erotica as well as vintage clothes and had inherited a lot from her father. She loved all the Victorian spanking stuff!

  4. It's great that your first time was sweet and gentle, with somebody you really cared for.

    From a middle-aged vantage point in the 21st century, it seems strange how much significance we mentally placed on "It!" in our inexperienced youth. As if the whole spectrum of sensual and sexual activity were insignificant except for penis-in-vagina. (Of course, the practical significance of "It!" is baby-makin', meaning there was a real element of danger.)

    1. Yes, I was terrifies of the pregnancy risk! I actually, thanks to A, enjoyed the foreplay and other activity more than actual sex to begin with but it was a rite of passage that you were expected to go through, almost for your peers benefit more than yours. I have a young relation who has just started university and saw him the other weekend and asked him if he had a girl friend yet. He said no, why should he and I told him that university was for having sexual relations for the first time if you hadn't already. It seems that they have been so put off by HIV, STDs, concerns about consent, non objectification of women and such like that they are scared of the whole thing!

  5. "I was looking for any signs of blood on my sheets but there was nothing, just a damp patch." Thus you discovered the myth of the hymen. I found a book in a university library with a medical illustration of many types of hymens. In the 21st century none of these have ever been seen on the internet, if they existed in reality you can be sure pornographers would be happy to provide them. The internet and ubiquitous mobile phones with cameras have destroyed two 70's fairy tales: hymens and UFO's. If they could be photographed, we'd have the pictures now.