DISCLAIMER:- The following text is sexually explicit and contains depictions of sexual acts that have been classified by the surgeon general as potentially dangerous and unhealthy. You must be a broad minded adult to read the text, and you must not make this text available to minors or to any person who does not wish to view it. Unprotected sexual relations with unknown partners is hazardous and we urge the use of condoms and safe sex at all times.

It was the late Sixties, when almost all the girls in my suburban high school went off to college to face the issue of When Will I Lose My Virginity. The big issue back then was fear of pregnancy, not STDs, and the Pill was solving the birth control issue for most.

I was a late bloomer by today’s standards, sharing a mutual loss of virginities in my college freshman year with Laney, a girlfriend since late high school, who was a year behind me and still in high school. Laney’s mother had put her on the Pill a few months earlier to “regulate her periods,” which really meant Laney’s mother was concerned that Laney was teetering on the edge of having intercourse – which she was.

The only thing stopping Laney (and me) was a fear of getting pregnant, and the double-edge sword of the Pill solved the birth control anxiety of both mother and daughter and served to push Laney over that teetering edge. We spent the next year fucking –delightfully bareback, of course – and I was hooked.

When Laney went off to college a thousand miles away, our relationship fizzled out. Having had a taste of what a real adult relationship included, I was eager to find another one, and in my sophomore year I began dating Cathy. I’d known her in high school, though we never dated. She made it clear to me that she was a virgin and that she intended to be a virgin on her wedding night. Cathy became my fall semester term project.

It was a gentle seduction. Cathy was an eager kisser, and we’d cuddle and make out on the college shuttle bus, and once we got to her dorm room or my apartment, things comfortably got hotter and heavier. She was barely taller than five feet, with a curvy body and waist-length light brown hair, with luscious lips and an active tongue, and we’d spend hours on her bed or mine, wrapped around each other.

Her surrender entailed babysteps of progress and with an occasional temporary retreat. Eventually she accepted my hands on her clothed breasts, then on her naked gorgeous breasts with those large, perky nipples, and gradually increasing nakedness in our frequent horizontal circumstances. After many weeks we’d gotten to the point of being fully naked in bed. She happily accepted my slathering tongue on her pussy, and even accepted rubbing together in faux intercourse, with her on top or more frequently me on top. We’d do the entire lovemaking sequence, from making out to oral sex to faux intercourse, finishing with me moving a few inches higher on her body and ejaculating on her tummy while she cupped my ass and wrapped her wide-open legs around my thighs.

It’s called “outercourse,” this rubbing together, with my 19-year-old steel-hard erection nestled in her slick, pink furrow and brushing up and down, up and down, with my cockhead making the repeat journey from the tantalizing heat of her opening at the bottom to the hard nubbin of her clit at the top. And, of course, I found it to be incredibly frustrating. As a birth control aid, Cathy was willing to buy contraceptive foam at the pharmacy, but she was unwilling to go to the Student
Health Service and get on the Pill. “That would mean I was deliberately planning to have intercourse,” she told me, “And I’m not planning that.”

I kept working those babysteps, though, and she kept silently surrendering more territory. At first my cockhead would linger a few seconds at her opening before moving upward. Then sometimes the lingering would add a small inward pressure, with my cockhead just slightly penetrating. It was a tease, a testing, and she wouldn’t resist. That “slight” became a full penetration of my cockhead, doing that erotic pop inside her muscle ring, holding myself there for a motionless few seconds, then a resumption of the regular up and down journey between her labia.

Babysteps. The penetrating inch of my cockhead eventually became two inches of my shaft, then half. I wouldn’t stroke inside her, but rather just penetrate and hold myself there, briefly, before withdrawing. I was silently asking her for her denial, not asking her for permission, and she didn’t complain.

Finally, one evening things all came to a culmination. My partial penetrations became a series of repeated full penetrations. Still no real thrusting, but I would slide all the way inside her until her muscle ring snugged around the root of my shaft, soak there for a few glorious seconds in her silky warmth, just barely touching her cervix, then withdraw and do my usual outercourse rubbing. When I climaxed on her tummy, we remained wrapped together, both of us breathing heavily, my shriveling cock pressed between us on her sticky belly.

Finally, I thought, finally she has agreed to full intercourse. Maybe now she will get on the Pill so we didn’t have to deal with contraceptive foam and timing our most adventurous sexplay to occur on her least fertile days. But in this blissful post-almost-coital moment, when I again raised the subject of the advantages of the Pill now that she wasn’t really still a virgin, she stunned me with her response. “I’m still a virgin,” she said, “because you’ve never climaxed inside me.”

I was nineteen, I’d experienced a pleasurable year of occasionally fucking Laney in a free and easy manner, I’d gone through several months of slow seduction of Cathy and she had, at least apparently in my own mind, finally accepted intercourse, and here she was essentially refusing to acknowledge the obvious.

Within minutes my erection had returned – I was nineteen, remember – and our faux intercourse resumed. Cathy, too, was nineteen, and she was wetter than ever. This time I blew past any subtlety and just slid my cock inside her. Her arms were wrapped around my shoulders, her legs were curled around my thighs, and my cock now enjoyed full-length strokes inside her snug, juicy sheath. Gradually, my strokes were faster and faster, more and more deliberate, my breathing quickened.

I nuzzled Cathy’s neck and knew the inevitable wasn’t far off. “I know what you’re doing,” she breathed in my ear. “You’re going to come inside me.” My only answer was a steady thrusting. Foam, check. One day after her last period ended, check. You’re driving me nuts and I can’t take this anymore, check. Finally, FINALLY, I was going to fuck her like I wanted to fuck her, and it seemed clear to my muddled brain that Cathy wasn’t raising a complaint and saying no. She was just stating the obvious.

And, of course, it happened. In that last frantic okay-NOW of sensations I dug in my knees and buried my cock inside her delightful little snuggly glove and enjoyed my first really satisfying orgasm with Cathy. Spurt after throbbing spurt, this time I emptied my balls inside her as I visualized how my stiff shaft was deep inside her and she was now feeling my pulses at the base of my erection with her gripping muscle ring.

After I finished, I remained buried inside her, panting. My back was sweating. She continued to hold me, embrace me, with arms and legs and vagina. My cock gave up its final weak twitches and slowly, ever so slowly deflated. Cathy’s kegels gave me one last squeeze and my cock popped out.

“There,” I said. “Now you can’t still say that you’re a virgin.”

“No,” she replied. “But you know what this means.” Her fingers wandered across my back.

“What?”

“We’re getting married!”

My cock shriveled even more.

Cathy’s next announcement was that we should forego any further intercourse until the wedding, which she was planning for more than two years later, after graduation. As it turns out, we didn’t get married. We didn’t even remain boyfriend-girlfriend longer than two more weeks after that night.