Long before that chick from Juno came along, teenagers have been doin' it. And as long as teens have been doin' it, lecherous older men have sought to document as much of it as possible.
On the silver screen, teens have been prodigiously fornicating for years. Fact! Every single movie that came out in the 1980s contains teen sex. I defy you to find one that doesn't: Fast Times at Ridgemont High? Check. Risky Business? Check. Teen Wolf? A-rooooooo! Gandhi? Yes. Even Gandhi. And let's not forget the most bizarre example of teenage lust ever caught on celluloid: 1985's Weird Science, in which a couple of nerdy losers create the perfect woman on their computer, and she teaches them how to be cool and get laid and stuff. (I don't think either of them actually gets to bone her, though. Boo for women's lib!)
Literature, too, contains myriad examples of teen sex within the printed word. Okay, so right now I can't think of any characters other than Lolita, who I believe wasn't even a teenager. At age 12, I suppose she was technically a "tween." (God, Nabokov was creepy.) But anyway, since books are not sexy and reading never got anybody laid, let's move on.
Surely the best medium for chronicling the sexual exploits of nubile young bodies has always been the popular song, and there is no shortage of musicians who have made it their life's work to sing about the joys of underage poontang. For this, the world owes them a substantial debt of gratitude.
Before rock 'n' roll was introduced in the 1950s, teen sex extended only as far as holding hands, sharing a milkshake, and the occasional fingerfuck. But the gentle petting of the bobby-socks era gradually gave way to more worldly prurience as foreigners like the Beatles hit the shores in the 1960s. "I Saw Her Standing There," from their first American album, Meet the Beatles!, opens salaciously with, "She was just 17—you know what I mean." On the same album, "Little Child" puts emphasis on the fact that the girl is not just a child, but a little one at that: "If you want someone to make you feel so fine/Then we'll have some fun when you're mine, all mine."
There was plenty of teen sex in the '70s, but no one sung about backseat desperation like the Raspberries. "Tonight"—the opening track from their third album, Side 3—makes it perfectly clear that the object of the singer's lust is of tender age: "You looked too young to know about romance/But when you smiled I had to take a chance..." And sex surely seems in the cards, as he continues with, "I'm making love to you/Bop-om-doo-doh-woh-mop-shoo." And while there has scarcely been a more poetic and accurate way to describe popping one's cherry as "Bop-om-doo-doh-woh-mop-shoo," it's actually contradicted in a later verse, when lead vocalist Eric Carmen begs, "Won't you let me sleep with you baby?/I just want to make you feel good inside/Let me feel the love that's in you."
But perhaps the best-known example of teen sex in song came from a figure that emblemized the exact opposite of everything that makes teens sexy—a fat, sweaty, hairy man known as Meat Loaf. There is no better way to describe underage libidinousness than 1977's "Paradise by the Dashboard Light," which details a high school couple bumping fuzzies for the first time. "Ain't no doubt about it, we were doubly blessed/'Cause we were barely 17 and we were barely dressed." Of course, the girl in the story is a total spoilsport, forcing the young lad to commit to her for life before giving up the picnic basket: "Stop right there, I gotta know right now," she sings. "Before we go any further/Do you love me? Will you love me forever?"
Of course, he acquiesces, taking the fun out of the whole thing. It's idiotic promises like these that ruin teen sex for everyone.