I ain't No Virgin Now!
Written by Kristina Hooper

Like many a young women, I didn't feel compelled to remain a virgin.  Indeed, I wanted to sample erotic pleasure to become a complete woman.

SEDUCTIVE VIRGIN

I was a virgin, but didn't want to be.

I was already at the ripe old age of eighteen.  Most of my friends had already discarded their virginity while still in high school.  Now, getting ready to go to college in the Fall, I wanted to be ready for whatever exciting things I imagined would be coming along.

My parents, to whom I was an only child, had been very protective of me, guarding of me, guarding of my purity zealously.  Like so many loving parents, they wanted me so save myself for the man I would someday marry.  But I didn't want to wait for some vague, unknown man of the future.  I felt I was smarter if I learned about sex beforehand, so that I would be ready when Mr. Right came along and be better able to get him if I already knew how to give him what he would want.  But I made up my mind that I was not ging to give up my virginity to just anybody.  I didn't want to fumble around with the amateurish young jerks.  I wanted a mature man, an experienced man, somebody special to initiate me into the wonderhood years of womanhood and sex.

I planned and plotted.  Then the opportunity presented itself.  My parents had to be away for almost a week, attending a convention out of state.  I would be on my own - free of their watchful eyes, free of tight schedules which accounted for every second of my activities, free of phone calls checking up on me when I said I would be at my girlfriend's house.

And, best of all, my attended lover, the man I had chosen to deflower me, was right at hand.  From the day that Mr. Carter, Nick, had moved into the house next door, I had been strongly attracted to him.  He had come to town to take a job as one of the assistant coaches at the college.  He was twenty-three, rugged, very macho - even somewhat rough and, as my parents would say, uncouth in his ways.  But he was very much a man.  And I knew he'd been around, still got around, so to speak.  In the almost a year, that I had been observing him, I had seen from my bedroom window many young, lovely girls enter during the darkness of the nights, and departing looking a little disheveled an hour or two later.  As young, innocent and immature that I was, you didn't have to draw me a picture to know what was going on.  Often, when I saw a girl enter, my imagination would drive me crazy, and I would finger my pussy until I would have a warm, wet orgasm.  My parents were evidently aware, also, as they always referred to "that outrageous Mr. Carter", and bent to every effort to make sure that I was kept away from any contact with him.  First of all, as he was uncontrollable, that automatically made him a suspect in their minds.

Now it was a hot lazy weekend day in July.  Most of the other neighboring houses were empty, with their owners away on vacations.  Pre-season practice sessions were over until Monday, and Mr. Carter, or Nick as I intimately called him in my mind, was mowing his lawn, shirt off, revealing his broad shoulders, nice chest, and rippling bicepts.

I stood peeking out of my bedroom window.  I took pride in my figure and face.  My brunette hair dropped to my shoulders, and my breasts, which required a 38-C bra, stood out firmly.  My legs were sculptured like a statue's.  After watching for a while, and feeling my lust, and after checking the calendar in my mind, I decided that it was the right time.

I decided to get into something provocative enough to make Nick notice me.  Peeling off my skirt and blouse,  I decided to don my bright yellow bikini, which was cut very briefly, and which I filled out like a mail order catalog model.

I stepped out on my lawn, and decided to pretend to be watering.  From the corner of my eye I could see him watching me.  I walked over to the hose reel and, as I picked it up, I acted like I had only just that moment become aware of his presence.  As I looked over and waved, I could see how intent his glaze was as it took in my scantily-clad figure, and I saw the glint of lustful hunger in his eyes.  Rather than feeling fearful, I found myself even more strongly attracted, much like a small animal hypnotized by the weaving hooded head of a cobra.  I felt a wave of desire wash over me, and I was more sure than ever that I really wanted to get to know this man, know him as well as I could, know him intimately.

"Hello there," he called.  "How are you doing in this terrible weather?"

"Okay," I said casually.  "I thought I'd get a little sun tan while I watered the lawn to keep it from burning up."

"Good idea," he replied. "but it's better if wait for the sun to go down, then the water doesn't evaporate off so fast and it can sink into the ground.  Why not wait, and in the meantime join me in a cold beer."

"I don't drink beer," I said shyly batting my eyelids.

Well, he persisted, and I let him talk me into it, not wanting to appear too eager.  All the time the spider was trying to introduce the fly into his web, his eyes were devouring me, feasting on my ripe tits, my narrow waist, my few little pubic hairs sticking out of the crotch of my bikini bottom.  And he was trying to soften me up, saying it would be good for me to loosen up to learn to relax, enjoy life.  He inquired about my parents, hardly hiding his pleasure in finding out they were away for a while.

I subtly let him know how my folks tried to shelter me form talking to the opposite sex, such as himself, and from talking about sex in general, and I stated that I thought that was stupid, ad he heartedly agreed.   He said that if I didn't like beer it might be because I hadn't acquired a taste for it, and made of obvious allusion to sex, that if I hadn't tried it, how would I know if I were ever going to like it.  As he was talking, he was swilling down a can of beer, and then another.  He might have had a few earlier, for all I knew.

Sweat was pouring from his face.  Saying how hot it was in this old house, wit only a window air-conditioner up in the bedroom, he loosened his belt.  As we talked, he casually unzipped his fly, as if wanting to let air in.  Then as I watched wide-eyed, he slid his trousers down and off his legs, to stand in his undershorts, saying that was so much cooler.

As my eyes examined his trim, muscular legs and athletically honed body I felt small embers begin to burn in my pussy.  And then, when I saw the bulge growning inside his undershorts, the embers began to grow into flames.

When he saw that I did not object to his removal of trousers, and that I was staring fascinated at his crotch, he much have became emboldened, for he suddenly grabbed his shorts and tugged them down and off.  Again not seeing me bolt and run, he kicked off his moccasins, and since he wasn't wearing socks, he now stood in front of me completely naked.

His prick was standing out in front of him, tilted slightly up, and I could see a large sack hanging between his legs,  and I knew it was filled with his testicles.  His peter was like I imagine a horse's cock would be, long and thick, and it was deep red bordering on purple, with thick blood veins running through it.  As he stood, it pulsed with blood and swayed as he breathed.  He took it between his two fists, so that the tip only peeped out, and he moved his fists like a fleshy tunnel back and forth over his shaft, as if priming it for action.

I found the whole scene so hypnotically erotic, that I had to restrain my own hands from clutching my own genitals.  I felt more certain than ever that i wanted him to take my precious cherry, even though his actions and attitude let me to believe that he would be rough in sex.  I was so willing and eager to be initiated into the mysteries and wonders of sex that I felt I could take, and even welcome, some rough treatment in order to achieve my goal.  Even though I had let an occasional boy play "stink finger", no one had ever inserted a prick into me, and I knew I was very tight, but I felt confident that I could take this massive instrument that he was so blatantly displaying for me.

It seemed that because I just sat there and didn't protest, Nick decided that I was willing to let this proceed to the obvious conclusion.  A man of action, he then stepped quickly over to me, put his hands around my waist, and effortlessly lifted me from my chair.  He planted a perfunctory kiss on my lips, and then his hands started to remove my bikini top.  As soon as he had tugged it off, his hands were on my breasts, twisting his fingers in the firm flesh, saying that he loved my knockers.  he pinched the nipples, almost painfully, and they hardened more.  He kissed them, then looked in my eyes and said I could kiss him in a sexy place, too, and he rubbed the head of his cock against my thigh.

I shook my head negatively, but at the same time I suggestively pushed my mound against him.  I guess he might as well dump the preliminaries and go for the gold right away, it being better to get what you can when you can.  His hands felt for the elastic waist of my bikini bottom, grasped it, and pulled it straight down.  I stepped out of it and his tossed it aside.

He smiled, as if he had won the opening engagement of a major battle and, taking my hand, said he'd like to show me his bedroom.  I kind of held back, so he assertively pulled me along.  Good, I thought, it wouldn't hurt to make him feel that he was leading me into this.  As soon as we entered the bedroom, he lifted me as easily as if I were a rag doll and unceremoniously dumped me onto the king-sized bed.  He jumped on and, putting his upper body across mine, planted a kiss on my open mouth, inserting his tongue and wiggling it suggestively.  I pretend to reject his tongue, but gave in little by little and let him have his way, concealing that it was really turning me on.  I began to pant, as if I were reacting to his amorous advances but trying to control myself and losing the battle.  I changed the pressure of my hands from looking like I was trying to push him away to weakening and giving up.

Each of my ploys seemed to spur him to greater passion.  His hands started roving all over me, squeezing, pinching, tickling, pushing, pulling, always getting closer and closer to my pubic mound.  Again, I changed my body, going from being rather stiff and rigid and resisting, to pliable and compliant and willing, snuggling my hips closer to him and starting a subtle up and down of my pelvis.

His hands clenched my pussy, squeezing and clenching, stroking and petting, moving the flesh around in a circular motion and then alternating with an up and down motion.  My juices began to really flow under his stimulation, and I could feel my pussy-lips opening up in anticipation.  And then, his finger was in my slit, twisting and turning and probing until, touching of an electric shock that raised through my entire groin, it touched my magic button.  At his touch, my clit at first recoiled as if in horror, then sprang foward in a riposte like that of a fencer's rapier.

I moved my hand to his rigid peter, grabbed it and began to pull on it as if I were saying, "Come on, give this to me!"

Nick was no dummy.  Fooling around with women was no novelty to him, and he knew that he had to cover himself to the extent that he could, to avoid a later charge that he forced himself to his partners.

"Do you want it," he asked, "really want it?"

"I don't know, Mr. Carter,"  I said.  "I'm so confused.  I didn't think that my coming in for a cold drink would lead to this.  I've never done this before, and I'm not sure that I should.  My parents will kill me if they found out."

"Well," he urged, "I'm not about to tell your parents.  And if you want to do it, you should - how else are you gonna learn what it's like and if your gonna like it.  But you've really gotta want to do it, you gotta tell me you want to do it, swearing on the book you want to do it!"

I purposely let a long, long moment go by.  I heard his breathing stop.  I let the tension build.  I thought for a moment.  Actually he had not been as rough as I thought he would be, so now I believed that he would not physically abuse me as I had been fearful that he might.  And, even though he had been not very romantic in his approach, he had not been too terribly crude.  Finally, whispering, I said, "Yes.  I do.  I want you to do it.  I swear.  But don't, oh please don't hurt me."

He took a deep gasp of air into his lungs, then said, "You won't be sorry, baby.  I'll give you a good first fuck.  It might hurt a little, but you'll see that it's worth it.  Are you sure now?"

"I'm sure," and I tugged again at his hard prick.  He lifted himself and put his knees between my legs, and then exerted pressure to the sides, spreading me wide open.  I was still holding his cock, and I pulled it to the entry of my wet hole.

"Here goes, baby," he grunted, and thrust his hips foward.  The head of his cock slipped an inch or two into my tight hole.  Another thrust went in another inch or so, but then stopped as I felt something inside my vagina block further progress.

"Hold on," he said through clenched teeth, and he suddenly slammed foward.  I felt the head of his cock strike at the obstruction, and then there was a ripping, tearing feeling that sent waves of pain coursing through my vagina, into my groin, into my bowels, causing tears to come to my eyes.  His cock was through the barrier!  He held virtually still for a minute or so, only rocking his hips foward and back a fraction of an inch, as my vagina sought to accustom itself to this stranger that had dared to violate its privacy.

Little by little the waves of pain diminished and receded, and as he felt my tube relax and adjust, he began to increase the length of his strokes.  With each push,  I felt pleasure replace pain, and I placed my hands on his lower back, near his ass-cheeks, and that wonderful pole of flesh and muscle to probe as deep into me as possible, increasing that wonderful feeling of fullness that I was enjoying.

My hips began to undulate in a movement and rhythm that matched his in and out thrusts.  It was hypnotic, steady, rhythm, much like a bolero, and little by little the band to which we were dancing increased the tempo, building faster and faster and higher and higher to a crashing climax.  He began to swivel his hips as he shoved his rod in and out, swinging his ass around in a circular motion that sends his cock from side to side up and down against the walls of my love tube.  I responded in kind, wrapping my legs around his waist so that I could lift my ass off the bed and swing it provocatively, too, screwing my cunt up on that wonderful cock, causing it to slide and bang and press on every inch on my sex tunnel.

We must have maintained our dance of love for fifteen or twenty minutes, maybe half an hour - who was counting? - when the friction and heat began to make my vaginal muscles twitch and contract, thus exerting more pressure on his plowing prick.  That must have been the trigger that cuased his cock piece to fire, and suddenly there was a blast of hot sperm squirting from the end of his cock, bathing and soothing the inside of my tube with a thick layer of creamy love lotion.  As soon as my vagina felt that hot bath of liquid, it convulsed frantically, and I felt waves of exquisite ecstasy radiate from my womb and spread throughout my body, tingling every nerve from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes, making me rigid as if a thousand volts of electricity had suddenly shot through me.

We collapsed in a heaving, panting, sweating, kissing twist of arms and legs.  When my mind came back into focus,  I could feel the receeding twitches and throbbing of my cunt, with his long prick slowly contracting back against itself, dribbling a last few drops of love juice as it finally slipped from my hole, even as my cunt tried to hold on to it.

During the next few days, I practically lived next door with Nick, my "Mr. Cocks", and he taught me things I'd never heard of.  After my parents returned, he and I got togther secretly whenever we could. That Fall, I went to an out-of-state college, armed not only with a good transcript, but with an advanced degree in sensuality and sexuality.

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