0 comments/  65600 views/  2 favorites

She Doesn't Pt. 01

By: barnabus



SUBJECT:

He tries to figure out why his virgin girlfriend will make love with him, but won't take off her blouse.

WARNING: This is an adult story, containing sensitive material of a sexual nature, including graphic descriptions of consensual "vanilla" sex. If you find such material offensive or are underage, do not read further, but please bypass this story for one more suitable for you.. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters are mine, and the events in this story never took place. This story is written for enjoyment and entertainment purposes only, and no commercial profit is expected to be made from it. It may be copied for personal use or for posting on other sites, provided the sites are free sites . . . it may NOT be posted on any site that requires a "membership fee" of any kind. Posting is permitted on an "Adultcheck" type site (which might cost a few dollars a year for access to many sites) but not on an "Adultcheck Gold" site, which requires much more money. Our characters use birth control in this story . . . because all reasonable adults should behave responsibly when participating in sexual activities and they wish to avoid conception and the spread of disease.

* * * * *

Chapter 1. Dinner

I kissed one eye, then the other. She held her face upwards to me, with her eyes closed. We had met at the church young people's group, and she seemed like a reserved, proper girl. She was short, about 5 ft. 2, with a fairly trim body, a little on the hefty side, but eager. She had been out of college for several years, and worked as a clothing designer for a specialty shop, and was wearing a wool suit with a snug (but not tight) skirt that came just above her knees and a thick wool suit jacket that she refused to take it off when she arrived, even though my apartment was quite warm. After a couple of dates, I had invited her to my place for dinner. As we prepared dinner, we kissed, and after dinner, we moved to the sofa where we had talked for a while before I kissed her again

She seemed to like the kisses and melted herself into my arms. I ran my hands over her back but the thick wool jacket didn't reveal much.

His kisses felt good! I liked being in his arms. This was only our second date (or maybe third if you count the time we went out for coffee). I didn't want to seem "easy" but he had given me a few goodnight kisses at the end of our last date, so I guess kissing him now couldn't hurt. After all, this was the end of the twentieth century!

But still, I felt unsure. I was at an age where I should be surer of myself, but I had never dated much .... I never got to spend a lot of times with boys. I guess I was always afraid and uncertain. Maybe that would change with him. He seemed nice and respectful. 

I knew he had been engaged for a year and that the engagement had broken up some six months before ... I don't know what happened, but it had been messy and unpleasant. I hadn't seen him out with anyone else since --- maybe I was his first venture back into the world of dating. I have heard that when you break up with someone, either you rebound immediately, or it can take a long time. Since six months had passed, maybe Steve was in the latter category.

I had seen Cathy around for some time. She was always on the edge of things --- never a leader. She always seemed quiet and withdrawn. As far as I knew, she didn't date much. I had learned on our last date that she was 25 years old. Hmm, 25 - - - that can be a difficult age for an unmarried woman - - - time is growing shorter for them - - - maybe their afraid that life is passing them by and they have to take a more active role in what happens around them . . . and to them. 

I let my kisses trail across her cheek to below her ear and down her neck. She rolled her head back revealing he short neck. I worked my way to her collarbone, then continued to kiss across her throat to the other collarbone and up to her ear. Then, finding her mouth, we kissed again, not a deep kiss, but her arms pulled my head to her. 

It was thrilling feeling his lips move down my neck and back to the other side. I hadn't been kissed by boys very often, and I reveled in the excitement this elicited in me. I pulled his head into our kiss, but kept my lips closed, like any "nice" girl should. Still, the emotions he stirred in me were beyond description. I definitely wanted MORE of this! In a way,, I always HAD wanted more of this but somehow it never happened. Now, here I was, lavishing in the arms of a handsome man. .

We came up for a breath of air, and I leaned back on the sofa, cradling her head to my shoulder, holding her hand in mine. As our breathing came down a little, we talked . . . small talk, nothing much. When the conversation lagged, we looked into each other's eyes again and moved together for more kisses.

I let my kisses trail down her neck again, but when I got to her collarbone, I followed the collar of her shirt downward, planting kisses all the way, until I reached the top button of her blouse. After a moment, I let my kisses move over the blouse and outward until I reached her right arm that was hanging by her side with her hand in her lap. I reached over and took the hand from her lap and kissed my way downward until I kissed the palm of her hand . . . always a turn-on for any woman. 

Oh! I was frightened at first. No man had kissed my chest since I was in high school in the back seat of a car. And then, it was only after a lot of pawing and Groping and finally ripping the buttons off of my blouse. Hearing my blouse tear was the final straw that got me to jump out of the car and run. Maybe that was why I was always afraid. 

Somehow, tonight seemed different. Barnabas wasn't using force of any kind. He was just . . . kissing me. Then, he kissed my arm and hand. I guess there can't be anything wrong with that, can there?

I turned her hand over and kissed the back of it, then worked my way back up to her shoulder, but moved again toward the "v" of her blouse, continuing over the exposed skin to the arm that was closest to me. Then I kissed back towards her breastbone and allowed my kisses to work downward over the fabric of her thick jacket, passing over one mound first and then kissing my way to pass over the other mound. I felt her back arch and heard a gasp, and was aware of her right hand coming off of her lap toward the back of my head, but after a moment, it dropped back to her lap. The amount of fabric between her and my lips made the kisses more symbolic than stimulating.

I unbuttoned the two buttons on the jacket, but as she felt it loosen, she seemed to twitch, and she immediately buttoned it again. I smiled to myself. If she wanted the jacket in place, I could live with that!

From there I kissed my way back to her shoulder and up her neck again. 

Oh, my! I didn't know what to do! Should I stop him? But then again, he wasn't pawing me like the boy in high school. He hadn't even laid a hand on me. I liked being kissed. I liked the attention. I liked Barnabas! When his lips found mine, I was confused . . . I didn't know what to do. I was excited. I was confused. I was turned-on. I was afraid.

When he unbuttoned my jacket . . . I was awfully nervous. But when I buttoned it up, he didn't force me . . . he just left the jacket in place and continued kissing me.

I glanced at my watch and made a lame excuse that it was getting late and I had told me roommate that I would be home by 10:00 PM (a lie). He smiled at me and nodded, telling me how lucky I was to have a roommate that watched out for me. 

I helped him put the dishes in the sink, then he took me to the curb and flagged a taxi. When the cab arrived, he climbed in next to me. He said he wouldn't think of sending me home by myself, and rode with me. On our trip across town, he told me how much en had enjoyed our company. He walked up to my doorstep, and after I opened the door, kissed me on the forehead and thanked me for a wonderful evening. As I moved inside, he returned to the cab and waved as the cabbie took him home.

When my roommate asked about the date, I gave her an non-committal, "it was fine", and excusing myself, I went to my room to think. But thinking just made me more confused and I still didn't know what I wanted.

Chapter 2. The next date.

I didn't known whether or not I had frightened her off, but I sent her some carnations two days later. Then I called and asked her to dinner after work on the following Friday evening. She accepted but seemed a little skittish. I wondered if she is just very shy, or if she is afraid of men, or if she is just inexperienced. Maybe all three. But in any case, she accepted my invitation for dinner. 

As dinner came to an end, I invited her to my apartment, to hear a Benny Goodman recording that I had just purchased. She hesitated and appeared confused. Then, as if making a decision, she accepted saying she WOULD like to hear the Benny Goodman Album.

There was a young lady from Kent Who knew just what men meant . . when they asked her to dine with Champagne and wine. She knew. Oh, she knew! But she went!

 

I was amazed when he sent me flowers! He was probably the first man to send me flowers. Maybe he REALLY thought I was special! Then when he called to ask me out for dinner, I felt elated! We had a nice dinner at in a quiet Italian restaurant, which I thoroughly enjoyed!

Then, he invited me back to his apartment.

Although I had spent hours in thought, reflecting on our last "date", I still hadn't come to any conclusions. If I went to his apartment, I knew things would quickly progress to where they were on our last date. And if they did, what then? But in all honesty, I wondered if that was what I really wanted.

As we walked to his place, somehow the conversation moved to the subject of sex. Somehow, everything he said about sex seemed to be in the context of a relationship! It all seemed to imply some sort of commitment.

In his apartment, somehow we ended up sitting on his sofa, listening to Glen Miller seated on his sofa.

After our previous date, I was surprised as she gravitated to the sofa as I started the Glen Miller recording. We sat side-by side as we listened to my favorite selection. We commented on the music as the piece came to an end, and once again, our eyes met, we blended into a kiss, and once more I held her to me. Once again, my kisses wandered over her breastbone (she was wearing a high turtleneck shirt) and over her felt blazer which put a substantial barrier between us. This time, however, as my kisses covered her mounds, I opened my mouth to simulate biting a large portion of her breast, zeroing in on her nipples. As my kisses once again moved upward to her ear, I whispered, "I like imagining that you have nothing on where I'm kissing!"

She pulled my head to her hear as she whispered in my ear, "I like it when you imagine like that!"

How could I have said that? I was almost terrified at the thought of my being bear breasted and him kissing my breasts, let alone my BARE breasts. And yet, he still wasn't "pawing" me. His hands hadn't moved from holding my waist. He had just kissed me. 

That response had to signify consent! My kisses moved to her breasts again and this time I brought my hand up to support her breasts as I kissed them (although I did not really touch breasts or nipples with my hands.)

After kissing and caressing her breasts, I let my hand slip down to her hip, and move toward the junction of her thighs as I continued to kiss her breasts through the bulky blazer. She was wearing a panty girdle over her panty hose, so I just caressed her through her thick skirt. Rather than force the issue, I just caressed her through the layers of material as close to her clit as I could get. 

I felt his hand move up my rib cage to just below my breasts. He didn't touch me, but I felt him holding my breasts in place as he kissed me. Then his hand moved downward to my "private" areas. Then, I felt his hand move to the hem of my skirt and then up to my panty-girdle and he started to touch me.

His touch electrified me, but frightened me also. No one had ever touched me there before! I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. He kissed my breasts through my blazer and caressed my . . . lower area, as I felt heat growing within me. My hands fell useless beside my head as I could do nothing to respond to his kisses or touch. 

She didn't respond to me. But at the same time, she didn't offer any resistance. I heard her breathing speed up in response to my oral and manual manipulations. Her body gradually raised and I could feel her orgasm coming until she exploded, arching her hips against my hand and suddenly grasping my head and clutching my head to her breast. I don't think she was aware of what she was doing. I allowed her climax to subside as she held me close to her.

(To be continued) 

She Doesn't Pt. 02



Chapter 3 - The Next Date (Continued)

What did he do to me? No man had ever done that before! NOBODY had ever done that before! How should I respond to him? What should I do? Whatever he had done, I wanted him to keep doing it! Is this love? I did love him, and I didn’t want what I was experiencing to stop! I wasn’t confused . . . I wasn’t thinking!. I was just feeling! And I didn’t want it to stop. Gradually, it dawned on me that I was on my back on the sofa and that he was over me. I had no idea how this had happened! Slowly, I became aware of his fingers moving again, and once again, I felt the excitement growing within me. The warmth spread throughout me, and I realized I was getting wet! I knew he couldn’t feel my dampness through my panty girdle, but I felt embarrassed all the same. But soon I forgot the wetness as my internal tingling spread from my backbone throughout me, and I knew I would have screamed if his kisses hadn’t been covering my mouth!

I had thought she was maybe cold or shy, but her innocent response was unbelievable! It seemed she didn’t know what was happening to her! 

For some silly reason, my mind replayed a conversation I had had with my roommate in college. He was much more experienced with women that I was at that time. I had commented that sex was a virgin was the most desirable experience, and he had responded that he really wasn’t interested in virgins. Yes, it was enjoyable to take a girl’s virginity, but he said that he would prefer an easier score, rather than spend the time and effort that was necessary to get a virgin. I let her come down from her climax. Gradually her breathing returned to normal, and her stranglehold around my head began to relax. I kissed her softly on the mouth, eyes, ears, cheeks, everywhere on her face, as she returned to this consciousness. 

“I love you,” I whispered into her ear, and her arms tightened around my neck.

He loves me! He just said so! He really said he Loves me! But then . . .

I started kissing her again. I kissed every inch of her face and neck. Then kissed my way over her blazer and breasts, making no effort to open any buttons. She held my head to her as I kissed my way over her breasts.

This time, after kissing every inch of her breasts, I let my kisses continue over her ribs, downward to her navel, then to her hips and lower stomach until I reached the “V” between her legs. Although my hand was still under her skirt, lightly caressing her panty girdle, I kissed her through the heavy material of the skirt. My elbow gradually moved between her knees forcing an opening between her thighs, as I continued to kiss and let my hand rove further. 

His kisses just seemed to make my mind shut down. I love his kiss and his touch . . . it does marvelous things to me!

He loves me! He said so! But, Ohhhh! He’s kissing me down there! I should stop him! But somehow, my arms just won’t move. I like it. I like Him. . . I like the kisses and attention. 

I’m afraid. But excited, too. . .

My shoulder moved between her knees and I began kissing down her legs to her knees and wrapped my hand around her leg as I settled the rest of my shoulders between her legs. I kissed up the outside of her legs, gradually pushing the skirt ahead of my lips. By now my shoulders were beneath her bent knees and my hands wrapped around her legs holding her hips. My kisses covered over her stomach and gradually moved downward. As she realized my destination, she gasped and her hands held my head pulling upward. It wasn’t a panic effort, but rather an attempt to guide my movements. I continued kissing her stomach for a few moments, then continued kissing downwards until I was kissing her womanhood through her panty-girdle.

Oooh! My heart is racing! What’s happening? I can’t think straight. I can’t let him kiss me . . . there! I just can’t! But he’s so insistent and he’s holding me soooo tight. I’ve got to stop him! But if I push him away . . . maybe he’ll stop kissing me . . . maybe he won’t love me . . . He said he loves me. 

Maybe if I pull his head up to my lips, I can give him my lips to kiss instead! I’ll kiss him SO hard and so much that he’ll be happy Ooooh! I can’t pull his head away . . . 

What am I going to do? What can I do? Oooooh!

She thighs clamped against my head and I felt her tremble! Her hands knotted in my hair as she tried ineffectually to pull me away. I kissed some more through the thick rubberized material and let my nose apply what little pressure it could over her clit and waited for her to relax. My mind just doesn’t want to work right. I can’t think . . . and my legs seem to have a mind of their own! By grabbing his head with my knees, I was able to stop him . . . at least a little. I don’t know what I should do.

What’s he going to do next? He’s not doing anything! He’s just kissing me! I guess maybe it’s all right for him to kiss me . . . nobody says it’s wrong to kiss! But . . .

She didn’t relax, and the trembling started to get worse. I don’t want to overdo things, so I moved my head away from her and immediately her grip in my hair started pulling me upward, and her thighs released. When I was over her navel, I kissed it and looked upward to meet her eyes. She looked like the proverbial frightened doe in the headlights with eyes as wide a Japanese cartoon figure. She licked her lips and put her hands on the sides of my face.

I let her hands guide me back up her body, kissing everything as my lips moved slowly toward her face. I moved to her side as I reached her neck, but I kept one hand on her womanhood through her panty girdle with just enough pressure that she would know it was there. 

When my lips got to hers, she devoured me, kissing me every way she could, lips open and all, but still no tongue. I knew I would wait for her to decide when the tongues would come into play. Meanwhile, she continued to kiss me all over my face, eyes, neck, and back to the lips with a long, opened mouth kiss. 

Has he stopped kissing me there? I’ll pull his head up to my lips where my kisses will hold him. Oooh! He’s kissing my belly button. Now he’s looking into my eyes. I’ve never seen so much love in anyone’s eyes! Not even in the movies! On! I love this man! Do I dare tell him?

I have to kiss him! I have to kiss him all over . . . his face, his neck . . . his lips! 

Ooh, I’ve never kissed a man like this before! I like it! I feel so close to him. I love the way he tastes! I love the way he smells! I love the way he feels! Is this what it feels like to be in love?

I had moved my hand from her panty girdle to her hip above her girdle to her hip, gently pushing up the band of her skirt until I found some bare skin above her girdle. 

As her eyes opened and she gazed into my eyes again, I whispered to her: “I really hate panty girdles. Do you really have to wear it? You should get rid of it?”

Was he asking me to undress? No. He was simply telling me of a preference. He didn’t like panty girdles. Neither did I! But somehow they seemed like protection! Did I need to be protected? Against HIM? Did I care? He didn’t like panty girdles! I really wanted him to be pleased! Did he ask me to take off my panty-girdle?  

I didn’t know if I had overstepped the bounds It was a bold step. For a long time, we gazed into each others eyes. Then I leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. Her arms closed behind my head, holding my lips to hers. Then she released her hold on me and started to rise. I sat up to let her move past me as she picked up her purse and walked to the bathroom, turned on the light and closed the door. After a short pause, I heard the toilet flush and the water running in the sink. Moments later, the door opened and the light flicked off as she returned to me, dropped her purse on the table, and slid back into her position on the sofa, under me. Her arms encircled my neck as she whispered into my ear, “I want to do what you want. I want to make you happy. I want you to be pleased.”

I kissed her lightly on the lips as my hand slid down to her hips. I didn’t have to move any further. I could feel that the panty-girdle wasn’t there!

More follows 



She Doesn't Pt. 03



Chapter 4: Discovery 

By now, I knew that she was totally love-starved, but I still wanted to move slowly to allow her the maximum opportunity to enjoy our time together. It also allowed me the chance to savor her even longer.

She was tight as a drum, so I just held her, and cuddled. Women always like to cuddle . . . It makes them feel loved and valued as a person. Gradually, she relaxed, and I suggested we have some ice cream. She asked if I had some hot-fudge. I did, so we got up and warmed the hot fudge in a pan of water.

We joked and laughed like a couple of kids preparing a special snack. We scooped the ice cream into bowls, both licking the scoop, and poured on the Hot Fudge along with some canned "whipped cream" from the refrigerator, a handful (a generous handful) of sprinkles and a cherry (how appropriate) on top.

She sat on her feet at the far end of the sofa and slowly devoured the Sundae. When she was finished, she put the bowl into the sink and ran water into it, and started roaming the room, looking at books, CDs, and videos. She squealed when she found "Snow White" and begged to watch it, so we put it on.

I couldn't help but feel that she was doing whatever she could to postpone the time when we would start being affectionate again.

I was really hyper! I didn't want to leave, but I was afraid that if he and I sat down on that sofa together, I didn't know what would happen. 

Ice cream was a nice break! But as I finished my serving, what was I going to do now?

The "Snow White" video was a godsend! 

We put it on, then I sat next to him on the sofa, and took each of his hands in mine and sat with my back to him, leaning against him,and wrapping his arms around me. But I kept hold of his hands and snuggled, keeping his hands held in mine so that they couldn't wander. 

I held her in my arms for the entire movie. Admittedly, I had no choice, but it was a pleasant experience feeling her against me, even though she insisted on keeping my arms wrapped around her, virtually without moving, the entire length of the movie.

My mind raced throughout most of the video. 

I tried to remember what I've heard other girls say about . . . men. How they're all hands and they grab what they can, and they don't seem to care if a girl gets hurt. But Barnabas wasn't like anything they've described. He was willing to let me hold his arms. . . his hands.

Finally the video was over. He took one hand to the remote and turned off the video and set the VCR to rewind. 

Then he put down the remote to rewind and set it down moving his hand to my face.

He caressed my cheek and it almost felt like he was prince charming in the movie. I almost melted into his arms, and he kissed my cheek again. Soon, our arms were entwined and our mouths were engaged with each other. We "made out" for a while before his hand made it's way to my hip, and then to he lower edge of my skirt. 

I tried to resist, but he was insistent and soon he was caressing me through my cotton panties. With a start, I remembered that the girdle wasn't there. I melted at his touch! I don't quite know when the panties got moved to the side and he was touching my bear flesh. Suddenly I realized his hand was parting the lips to my vagina, and I panicked, but I wasn't sure what to do to stop him. Gradually, he ran his hand long me and I didn't know what to do about it.

I caressed her femininity . . . and ran my finger along her slit, picking up her natural lubrication and spreading it. Then I found her opening and softly moved the tip of a finger into her. Before I could determine anything, she whimpered . . . and I froze. 

I backed off, for a moment, then moved a finger into her again. Another whimper met my advances.

"Are you a virgin?" I asked. 

Shyly, she nodded and I removed my finger and started my caresses her labia with gentle pressure on her clitoris. As I massaged her, she again rose to a higher peak, until finally she reached her climax a second time. 

As she came down from her "high", I allowed her panties to cover her and I touched her only through the cotton barrier!

I held her, cupping her lower regions with a finger almost at her opening.. Then I whispered into her ear, "I want you. I want all of you. I want to make love to you!. I want you to give me your virginity!"

"Ooooohhh! What can I say to that. It's not like he's trying to take me, but he's asking me! What do I do now?

She whimpered at my asking her for her virginity .. . . And I wasn't touching her right then. And suddenly, her mind shifted into autopilot:

"Oh, no, I can't. We can't . . . have sex." Please don't ask me? "Why can't we?" I asked

"Because we're not married! I can't make love to anyone I'm not married to! Sex is a marriage thing. We have to be married, before we can make love!" She blurted out. 

I let my head drop. "You know that I was engaged up until a few months ago. When we broke up, it . . . wasn't pretty!. I can't talk about marriage right now. And in any case, I'm not ready to make any commitments. But I still want you. Oh, hold me . . please hold me tight!" 

I held him tight! He took his hand from my panties and wrapped it around me, holding me also. 

The evening had pretty much come to an end. We held each other and talked a little, and cuddled, but the action was finished for that evening. Eventually we found a reason to end the evening, and we took a cab to her place where I kissed her goodnight outside her door.

Chapter 5. - Interlude

Well, the cards were on the table. She knew what I wanted. Maybe she was inexperienced and shy . . . Yes, she probably was. She was still a virgin. But virgin or not, she knew what I wanted. 

I waited until the following Wednesday, then sent her a mixed bouquet of flowers (with a single red rose) with a note telling her how much I had enjoyed our time together. But I let a weekend pass before I called her.

I really had mixed feelings. 

My roommate finally sat me down and I had to talk with her. She was persistent, and gradually, the whole story came out. She accused Barnabas of "just wanting to get into my pants"!

Finally, as our discussion came to an end, she said, "You have a decision to make. But if you don't make it, he may make it for you!"

It seems that I spent a lot of waking hours wondering about my "decision". I really liked Barnabus. I craved spending time with him. But how far was I willing to go to keep him?

I called her on Tuesday. I had let ten days pass since our last date. 

We talked small talk for a while, then I asked her out to a picnic on Saturday afternoon on a piece of property I own north of town. She accepted almost before I finished the invitation. 

Chapter 6. The picnic

I picked her up at her place. She had a bulky sweater on and she wore a pleated dress that fell below her knees and sensible shoes with tube socks. We drove out to my property, a lovely wooded area with some wildlife. I took her to a nice, secluded clearing with a nice view where we put down a blanket and spread out our picnic. We shared a bottle of wine while we ate and made small talk.

We talked about what he would like in an ideal women. His response surprised me. He said he wanted a woman he could talk to and who enjoyed life. Someone who was creative and could have fun. After our last conversation, I felt I had to ask where sex fell into his equation. Barnabus said his ideal girl would be one who enjoyed sex, and who was eager to participate in sex.

I didn't know if that included me or not. I was sure I would enjoy sex with the right man, and I expected I would be eager to participate in sex, but I just didn't really know. I was a virgin . . . I didn't know how eager I would be or how much I would enjoy it. I wanted to find out . . . but I was afraid.

After we finished our lunch, I lay back and looked at the clouds over us and started pointing out images I saw. Soon, Cathy had joined in the game, and we were comparing images and laughing at the silly suggestions we each came up with. 

Suddenly, with very little warning, a dark thunderhead moved over us and rain began to fall. We quickly scrambled to pick up our basket and blanket and throw them in the back of the car as we jumped in to find shelter from the rain. Just as we closed the car doors, the heavens opened up in a real downpour. 

Since the ground would certainly be wet for a while, I suggested that we could go to my cabin to continue our picnic. My cabin was down the road and right around the bend. She hesitated for a long time. Then, seeming to come to a decision, she agreed, and we drove the short distance to the cabin.





She Doesn't Pt. 04



Chapter 7: The Cabin

She looked around, taking it all in, the living area, kitchen area and bathroom, the hall going to the sleeping area. She put down the bag and her purse, and came over to me wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me, gently at first, then harder. 

When the kiss broke, she nestled her head against my chest.

"You really want my virginity, don't you?"

I nodded.

"It's not that you . . . just . . . want . . . " she faltered, then steeling herself, she spit it out. " . . . want to get into my pants!"

There are times when honesty is definitely NOT the best policy!

"No, of course not!

"I love you," I continued. "And I want to know you better! I want you to feel good. And I want to make you feel good. You're really special to me. And I would love to be the one to introduce you to love!"

"And that means . . . sex . . ."

"It certainly includes sex."

I still hadn't made a conscious decision. But I knew my frame of mind was certainly moving toward acceptance. I was still afraid . . . and even terrified of letting a man . . . do that to me. But he was so gentle and kind . . . so assuring . . . so patient with me! I must really be frustrating him! Could I . . .? . . . with him . . .? Lots of other girls did it! My roommate had done it. It seems that everyone has done it except me! And here I am . . . a TWENTY-FIVE YEAR OLD VIRGIN! And here he is! A wonderful, loving, patient man, holding me and caressing me, never once trying to force me to do something I didn't want to do. Even now, he's waiting for me to make a decision.

"I still don't know if I want to. But if I did, . . . you know I'm still a virgin . . . I'm . . . not . . . you know?"

He nodded. "You're not protected?"

How relieved I was that he helped me past . . . that word.

"If I did . . . would you use . . . uhh . . . "

I let her squirm for a moment before I nodded. "Of course! I wouldn't want to do anything to put you at risk of any kind. I have protection. You have nothing to worry about on that behalf."

"And I wouldn't . . . want to . . . get a disease . . ." She was actually stammering, trying to get the words out!

"I had a checkup last month. The doctor checked for everything. There's no way you'll be getting anything from me. Also, the condom would help prevent any spread of disease if it were present."

Condom! That word brought all of my fears to the surface again! Condom! 'A sheath worn over the penis (as to prevent conception or venereal disease).' But then, my roommate had a different definition . . . 'A device to allow two people in love to enjoy each other fully without fear of unwanted consequences.'

She nestled her face against my chest some more. Then turned her face to me for a long, soft kiss. When the kiss came to an end, she pressed her cheek to mine holding her body tightly against mine and whispered, "Will it hurt?"

WILL it hurt? She knows she's made her decision. She's admitting it to herself. I remembered her whimpers when my finger had begun to enter her. This time, I felt I would get more mileage out of honesty. I nodded my head. 

"Probably. There is usually some pain the first time . . . sometimes for the first few times. But as a woman's body adjusts to the new experience, the pain becomes less and the pleasure becomes more."

I cradled her face in my hands and kissed her on the forehead and on the eyes, nose, and pecked her mouth. Then I took her hand in mine and led the way to the bedroom.

I was still nervous! But every time I asked something and he had an answer, it seemed like more of my resistance slipped away. I was 25 years old, and a virgin. I WANTED to have sex! I was tired of being alone . . . of sleeping alone . . . of not having someone . . .

Sex . . . condom . . . pain . . .? I was worn down. Nothing seemed real . . . everything I had ever thought seemed to vanish in a puff of smoke. 

I loved him! I wanted him. I even wanted to have sex . . . just so long as it was with him.

It felt like I was in a fog as he led me down the hall . . . and when I realized we were entering his bedroom . . . it seemed like the most natural place in the world!

But I was still afraid . . . at least a little . . 

We kissed. It was a sweet kiss. Then I was on his bed and he was kissing me more.

She followed me like she was in a trance. I turned on a specially prepared CD containing some specially chosen selections: The afternoon of the faun, Daphnis and Chloe, Bolero, and die Liebestot. Then, I lead her to the bed which already had the sheets turned down, a towel lying on the pillow. I lay myself next to her and began kissing again. As my lips left her, she placed her hand on the back of my head and whispered, 

"I know you are still hurting from the engagement that broke up."

I kept on kissing, but listened carefully to what she was saying.

"And I know that you can't promise me anything right now. But if we make love, would you at least promise to think about getting married?"

"I will." I answered. Then I decided to spread it on a little thicker. "And I have been thinking about it. And I promise I'll think some more."

She seemed satisfied. It's always amazing how little is necessary for a girl to rationalize away anything.

Suddenly, she gripped my head with both hands. 

"And one more thing! If we're going to make love . . . please don't kiss me . . . you know . . . down there . . ."

At first, I wasn't certain what she wanted. Then I got the idea.

"I promise that I won't kiss you below the waist . . . at least not tonight!"

I moved beside her and began kissing her breasts through the bulky sweater. I moved my hand to the lower edge of the sweater and made an obvious effort of taking hold of it and moving it somewhere. Her hand came and covered mine, blocking my actions. I got the message and left the sweater in place. But I moved my hand to the lower edge of her skirt. Finding no objection here, I slid my hand upward. She was wearing girdle again, but it was the open type with panties worn over it. But after her signal with the sweater, I decided to leave her clothes in place as much as possible, so I left her panties in place and began massaging her through her silken material while I kissed her breasts and nibbled at her nipples through the heavy sweater.

Gradually she rose once again to a climax. Since we were in my cabin in the middle of the woods, I let her vocalize as loud as she wanted . . . I had no fear of anyone hearing out here.

As her orgasm passed, I continued to kiss her, but moved my hips away so that I could open my belt and pants to free myself for action. I also moved the towel under her hips. She was still so involved in her orgasm that I don't think she was aware of the towel.

Then I returned to kiss her sweetly and gently as her heartbeat returned to normal.

As I felt her relax, I took her hand and led it to my erection. She stiffened as she realized what was happening.

Oooh! That's him! Or at least, that's his . . . . . penis . . . . .! What happened to his pants? Ohhhh, he's wrapping my fingers around him. He's soooo biiiiiig!

I squeezed him, and I could sense his reaction! He liked it! I held him tight, and he tensed, he seemed to enjoy what I did. I let my hands roam a bit . . . I knew his testicles would be underneath his penis . . . yes, there they were. I touched them . . . I held them. Who would have ever thought I would be touching a boy's testicles . . . . balls!!!! . . . I gave them a squeeze, just like I had his penis . . .

"Ooooh! Easy there!. They're sensitive!"

They are? I guess I have a lot to learn about men. I returned my hand to his penis and gently squeezed it.

"Does that hurt you?"

"No, that's nice!"

I moved my hand up and down his penis and was rewarded by his reactions. It's not that I felt power over him . . . but it pleased me to become aware of the pleasure I was bringing him.

I heard a tearing sound. Then his hand covered mine, and he pressed something . . . a CONDOM into my hand!. I froze, but he gently led my hand to the head of the penis and helped me place the condom over the head and roll the it down his erect . . . member. 

I had put a condom on him! 

I knew that if I didn't stop him now . . . there would be no turning back!

Once again, I felt his fingers move to my panties and start to perform their newly familiar magic, and he started kissing my breasts. I moved both of my hands to pull his head tighter against my bosom. Somehow my panties got pushed to the side and his fingers were caressing my opening . . .

And I was aware that his weight was on top of me, pressing me down . . . and his fingers had been replaced with something larger . . .

Holding her panties aside, I positioned myself to enter her. There was no longer any resistance in her. When she felt me at her opening, she gasped and arched her back away from me. Then she softened, and she actually moved her hips into place to permit my entry. She gasped again as I moved between her lips for the first time. Her thighs spasmed against me, then relaxed giving me permission to move deeper into her until I reached her biological resistance. Then she clamped her thighs against me, and both hands grasped my hips stopping any further progress

Oh, it hurts! It hurts! What do I do now? . "I don't want to hurt you! Try to relax!" (I knew it would hurt no matter what she did. But if she relaxed, I could get into her that much easier.) With some trepidation, I felt her relaxing, releasing the thy-grip on my hips, her hands running up and down my back as if she didn't know what to do with them, finally coming to rest beside her shoulders, her fists clenched, her eyes pressed tightly shut. She was trembling I was careful not to move.

"I love you," I whispered to her. She opened her eyes and met mine. "I promise I'll be as gentle as I can." 

I love this man! Even now, he's not trying to force me . . . I believe he would stop even now, if I asked him to. I want to do what he wants . . . I want to make him happy. I want him to love me. I knew in that moment, the time had come!

Her eyes softened. She put her hands on the sides of my face and she whispered back, "I love you!" and she gently brought my lips to hers. Her hands slid down over my neck and back, coming to rest on my hips. She broke the kiss and took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and moved her hands to grasp my buttocks. After a moments hesitation, she began to pull me into her.

She was no longer a reluctant sacrifice, but rather she had become a willing (if frightened) partner. As I edged into her, a millimeter at a time, her eyes squinted, she bit her lower lip and turned her face to the side. Then she tensed and cried out as her resistance gave way. 

Oh, Shit! Oh God, Oh God! Oh! Oh! Ooooouuuuch! Oh, Shit! That hurt like hell!

But already, it's changing. The sharp, agonizing pain is gone. It still hurts, but the excruciating pain isn't there.

He must have felt me do that! I don't want to push him away . . . not now! I love him and I want to keep him. The pain's not bad now! Maybe if he goes just a little further . . . .

I felt her relax, and once again, she began to pull me into her. I pulled back an inch to help spread her juices around, then slowly followed her lead moving back into her. I felt her relax more and pull harder. 

He's pulling away from me! Did I frighten him off? Am I doing it wrong? 

No, he's coming back into me! There's almost no pain anymore . . . just a little soreness!

I moved in and out of her slowly, gradually deepening my stroke. She began to pull harder on each inward stroke and released me as I backed off. After five or six strokes, I felt my pelvis snuggle against hers. I waited a minute for her to adjust to having me in her.

I felt his pubic hair against mine, and could feel his testicles against my bottom. Is ALL of him inside me? How can something that big fit into someplace that small? There's still no pain . . . but I'm still a little sore. 

What do I do now?

I began to slowly piston in and out of her. She was tight, like a virgin. Oooh! She feels good . . . like a thousand fingers gripping me. Yes, it was worth the wait for her. 

Gradually, she began to move her hips in synch with mine. Having this virgin was great! I felt my balls tightening and knew I wouldn't last very long. I began picking up speed, and she matched me. I held her close to me as I pumped away, and then my climax came thundering over me! Wow! This is great!

He started moving back and forth . . . in and out. This is different than when he entered me. I found I could move my hips with his and it increased the sensation. He's getting faster, and he's holding me tighter that he ever has before. His breathing is getting faster, too.

Suddenly he thrust into me as deep as he could and stayed there. He was holding his breath, then he started gasping, and I could feel him pulsing inside of me. . . . pulsing inside of me . . . his orgasm? 

A moment of panic flashed through my mind until I remembered the condom. Then I just hugged him close to me and felt him inside of me. Was it five . . . or maybe six strong pulses I felt?

Gradually, he relaxed and his gasps became heavy breathing. There was no thrusting, but I still felt some pulses inside of me . . . although they were almost becoming twitches as his breathing began to return to normal. His . . . member . . . began to shrink, and after a few moments, he backed off and pulled out of me, but still lay on top of me.

"Did I hurt you too much?"

She hesitated, "No, it was alright."

I lied.

"It won't hurt like that the next time."

Next time? Does he expect to do that again? 

"Soon, there shouldn't be any pain at all. Then you can simply enjoy what you're experiencing."

He moved off of me and was fumbling around with something. The condom? Then he rolled to the side to place the used condom in an ashtray by the bed and came back to put his arms around me and kiss me again.

"I love you!" he whispered in my ear. And I put my arms around him ,kissing him. "I love you, too!"

We held each other close for a long time, I just enjoyed being held in his strong arms. We talked . . . nothing significant, but we talked. I gradually became aware that he was listening to everything I had to say. I also realized he had given me his undivided attention for what seemed like a long time. Even now . . . after we were . . . finished (?) he was holding me, caressing me, talking with me . . . paying attention to me, like he really cared about me.

He said sweet things to me, little things that made me feel important and loved. It felt like I was important to him and that he cared about me and about what I thought and how I felt.

After a while, he loosened his arms and started to move away.

"Where are you going? Is something wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing's wrong. Everything is perfect. Yooooou . . " he touched his finger to the tip of my nose, "were magnificent!"

"Where are you going?" I asked, feeling almost abandoned.

He knelt beside me and kissed my cheek. "I'm going to get the champagne!"

More follows...



She Doesn't Pt. 05



Chapter 8. Champagne! 

Champagne?

I watched  as he buttoned his pants while moving out the door.

When he was gone, I sat up and looked at myself.  I found blood on my thighs, and a blood stain on the towel (?)   under me.  Some blood had gotten on my  panties.  I straightened my clothes.  My panties especially were all  askew and had some blood on them.   How had that towel gotten there?    Then, realizing my   purse was still by the front door, I found his comb (I wonder how long it had been since he washed it)  by  the mirror over the dresser and quickly combed my messy hair, restoring a small semblance of neatness.

I considered sitting in the easy chair, since it only held one person.  Then I decided to return to the bed.    I resolved in my mind  that I wanted to do anything he asks me to .   Even if it hurts  . . . . .

It HAD hurt.  Did I really mean that resolution?  Or had I just been made in the heat of passion?  I didn’t know.

But the thought made me feel naughty.  So I sat on the edge of the bed just as he was returning.  He DID have champagne!  Complete with fluted glasses and an ice bucket.  He put the tray on the end table and, raising his hand and nodding slightly in a “wait” gesture, he stepped outside the door and returned immediately with a dozen red roses, which he presented to me with a flourish and a bow.

I melted as he gave me the roses!  There was a vase with water on the dresser, so I put them there and turned to  throw my arms around his neck.  He held me close for a long time, whispering sweet things into my ear   He was sooo sweet and seemed to say such nice things.

Finally, he  whispered, “We don’t want the champagne To get warm, do we?”  And with a peck on my nose, he turned To uncork to champagne.   He examined the cork, then  handed it  to me  and poured a small amount in a glass which he tasted.   Satisfied, he picked up a fresh glass, filled it, and handed  it to me.  Still feeling  naughty, I returned to sit on the edge of the bed.  To my surprise, after he filled his glass, he sat in the easy chair.

We talked and I leaned on my elbow.  His conversation was animated.

My champagne glass emptied quickly, and he took it to refill it.  While he was pouring, I went to the dresser to smell the flowers.  He came behind me and encircled my shoulder with his left hand while kissing the right side of my neck from  behind.  He slipped the champagne glass into my hand, then  dragged his hand up my arm to my shoulder also.  

He was kissing my neck while holding my shoulders from behind.  Both hands were on my shoulders, considerably above my breasts.  There was nothing improper or suggestive about the way he was holding me.  But somehow it felt frightfully erotic.

“Come, sit in my lap.  I want to hold you,” he whispered into my ear and we moved to the easy chair.    He sat in the chair and pulled me backward across the arm of the chair so that I was cradled in his arms.  Putting my arm around his neck, I snuggled my face to his chest and we just sat there holding each other, talking about nothing in particular and sipping our champagne and kissing every now and then.

“Doing nothing” together felt awfully good, and after a while, the champagne began to go to my head, as I giggled a bit and felt a buzz coming on.  

Gradually, without my even noticing it, the kisses began to change.  He would kiss my hands, my shoulders, my neck, eventually my breasts.  His hand came up to support my breasts as he kissed them.  Then his hand slipped down to the edge of my sweater and moved upwards, under my sweater but  over my blouse.  His open hand supported my breast as  his mouth gently nibbled at my nipples through the material. 

At first, I didn’t realize when his kisses moved to the other breast that his hand didn’t.  It was only as my stimulation rose, that I realized that one breast was receiving attention from  his mouth, while the other was being stimulated by his hand. No man had ever touched my breast since that time in the car In high school.  In the back of my mind, I considered stopping him, but it felt soooo goooood that I simply reveled in the  sensation.

I don’t know when it happened, but  the sweater was  bunched up under my arms and he was kissing me directly  through my blouse.   

“Nooo!” I gasped as my hand flew to pull the sweater  back down.  His hand left my breast and took hold of my hand.

“Shhhh,” he whispered, and his kissed my lips.   Then he transferred my hand to his hand that was around my  shoulders and kissed me again.

“Shhhh, baby!   There’s nothing to be afraid of.”  He  looked down at my blouse and lowered his lips to kiss my breasts. Then looking in my eyes, he took hold of the edge of my sweater and lifted it upwards and over my head.    I could have fought him.  He wasn’t holding my arm  very tightly.   At his urging, I lifted my arms, and the bulky sweater passed over my  hands and fell to the floor.  Again, he kissed my blouse, then my chin, nose.    But I saw in his eyes that he really wanted to undress me.

I couldn’t let that happen.  All of the old fears came  pouring back to my mind.  

Maybe I could distract him . . . take his attention away from my breasts.

“I know you don’t like panty girdles,” I started.   “Do you like the girdle I have on today?”

“I don’t think you really need a girdle of any kind! I’d rather you weren’t wearing it.”

“Would you like me to take it off?”  

I’d done it again!  I was just trying to change the subject . . . to distract him!  How can I have offered to take anything off?  Maybe . . .  just maybe  . . . . he . . . 

He nodded.  “Yes!  I would like you to take it off.”

Uhhhhh!   I gulped.   But I had made the offer.   Should I?  Could I?  But he had asked me.  And asked me very nicely.   I had taken off my girdle before . . . so this would be nothing new. . . really . . .  Did I really mean  it when I decided I would do anything he asked?

I saw the indecision in her eyes.  It wasn’t an important issue . . . the girdle was open, so it could remain in place.

There’s something about her breasts that has her spooked.  They both felt real and unpadded, but a man can’t be sure any more.  Whatever it is, she was willing to trade her girdle (maybe) to keep me from her chest.   I waited for her response.

Her face relaxed as she came to her decision.  Her eyes softened.

“Can I use your bathroom?”

Chapter 9.  Laughter

As she stepped out of the bedroom door, she faltered.  Then headed to the front door and I wondered if she was going to leave.  But a moment later, I heard her pad down the hall to the bathroom.   

When I heard the bathroom door close,  Again, I heard the flush and the water running.   I moved from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed.  A few moments later, the bathroom door opened and she returned to me.  She noticed I had changed places as she came into the room carrying her purse.  She had taken a few moments in the bathroom to straighten her clothes again and comb her hair  Her blouse was tucked snugly into the waistband of her skirt.  She set her purse on the floor, on top of her sweater, then came and sat beside me.

I put an arm around her and kissed her.   She put her arm around me and in a few moments, we were lying side-by-side on the bed in a  passionate kiss.   

“Welcome back,” I said, smiling into her eyes.  

Her confusion was obvious as she sifted through the different meanings of my greeting.   Finally, she selected an answer.  

“Of course I’m back.  Where else would I go?”

We kissed some more, and he held my chin as he  kissed my lips.  Gradually, his kisses and his hand together moved down my neck and down my chest kissing every inch  of bare skin until he reached the top button of my blouse.

I stiffened as his kisses pushed against the fabric of  the blouse, trying to find more skin to kiss.  He must have felt my tension, because his hand and kisses moved over the fabric until he found my right breast.

After a moment, his kisses moved to the left breast,  but again, he left his hand.  I felt the double stimulation of  having both breasts caressed at the same time.

Then, he kissed his way back up and I enjoyed his touch on my breast as we kissed.  I enjoyed his hand on my breast!  I was surprised that I enjoyed him manipulating my  nipples, even through my blouse and bra.   Then, I was  surprised that I was surprised.

The movement of his hand below my skirt seemed like the most natural of progressions.   Somehow I felt FREE, not having the girdle between us.  It certainly  made me aware of the trust I had for him, and the acceptance I was beginning to acknowledge of what our relationship had  become.

His fingers danced over the nylon, eventually finding their way around the edges of the material and caressing my sweet parts.   I basked in his touch as his fingers explored  more of me, unfettered by the presence of the girdle.  His  finger found my navel caressing it and entering it.  I never realized how sexy a navel could be!

His hand found the elastic waistband of my panties and slipped underneath, again doing wonderful things to me.  I began  to smile.  

I felt a change in her as I moved under the waistband of her panties.  It wasn’t that she was upset.  If anything, she relaxed and seemed to revel in my touch.  She had a smile on her face . . . almost a smirk.

“What?” I asked, uncertain of what was happening,  and unsure of what I should do next.

“It finally happened!”

“What finally happened?” I asked, starting to withdraw my hand.  “Did I do something wrong?”   She quickly captured my wrist and returned it.   Placing her hand over mine, she cupped my fingers over her pubis.

With a ‘cat that ate the canary’ look on her face, she explained, “It seems that a man has finally gotten into my pants!”

The ridiculousness  of the statement, as well as its literal accuracy set us  off and we both shook with laughter for what seemed like an eternity.

I can’t remember how long it’s been since I laughed like that!  We were both rolling back and forth on the bed.  Finally we were both lying on our backs gasping for breath.  His hand found mine, and he whispered, “I really love you!” and our eyes met.  We weren’t laughing any more.  

Like magnets, our lips were drawn to each other,  Our arms flew around each other, and our passions were soaring through the ceiling.  

I was vaguely aware of my panties sliding down my legs and I kicked them off.  Somehow, it didn’t  seem to matter.  

I felt his weight on me, and even though I  knew I should be afraid of the pain, I just didn’t care.   I wanted him!  I gasped as he entered me and I heard him moan.  His entry was almost violent. And it didn’t hurt!  We both soared, and  once again, I felt him grow even bigger and he  exploded inside me.  I felt my muscles grabbing  him as he came, and my spirit soared as I basked in  the pleasure I was giving him. 

My GOODNESS!

I could get used to this!

We both lay there, neither of us moving, both our hearts returning to normal speed.  I felt him gradually softening, still inside me.

Almost apologetically, he ran his hand down  my side caressing my bare hip.  “I’ve got to get this condom out before it starts to leak,” and his hand moved between us.  “But there’s  one thing you could say!”  He smiled at me.   “At least, I’m not in your pants anymore!”

“Oh, you!” I said as I playfully slapped  his shoulder, and I felt him pull out of me,  carefully taking the condom (and it’s contents)  with him.





More follows



She Doesn't Pt. 06



Chapter 10 -  Interlude 2

As we came down from our “highs”,  we snuggled and talked.  This time, I was much more aware of the gentleness and sweetness in what he said and how he treated me, and how concerned he was about my welfare and about everything I said.We talked about my roommate, and what I would say to her when she asked me about our date (and I knew that she would ask).

Eventually, he suggested that we should get dressed and he should take me home.  When I told him I could stay longer . . . implying I might even stay all night . . . he refused.  He held me tight and explained that I had some torn membranes that needed some time to heal, (I wouldn’t  admit it, but I was still sore)  and he suggested he pick me up for dinner and “an evening together” next Wednesday.  And so, our “picnic” ended and he took me home, dropping me off at my door with a sweet kiss.During the early part of the week, I made an appointment with my Doctor to get some birth control pills   His receptionist couldn’t fit me in until Friday, and when I told her that I had a date with my boyfriend on Wednesday, she told me “to exercise a little self control!”  Silly woman!  Then she also explained that I had to wait until a certain time of the month to start taking the pills for them to be effective, so it really didn’t matter if I saw the doctor before Wednesday or not.

I also paid a visit to Victoria’s Secret.   After all, a girl has to look her best!   Everything I purchased was “modest” or “conservative”  according to the sales girl, but it seemed wildly provocative as far as I was concerned.

Chapter 11 – Confessions

Finally, Wednesday came!

My roommate had informed me that morning that She was going to pull an double shift at work so she wouldn’t be back until around 9:00 Thursday morning.

At the appointed hour, my buzzer rang and I asked him to come to my apartment door and I  pressed the buzzer to let him in.   When the elevator door opened, I was leaning against the door jam, waiting for him.

Without a word, he came up to me and took me in his arms.  The kiss lasted at least two minutes, before I suggested that we step inside and close the door.

Cathy looked wonderful.  She wore a medium weight plaid skirt, A loose pullover sweater with a “vee” neck and the collar of a white blouse folded over the sweater.  As I stepped out of the elevator, there she was!  She was just waiting to be kissed.

We kissed in the hallway, and when we moved into her apartment and closed the door, we kissed again, both of us allowing our hands to run over each other.  She gasped a little when I cupped her breast, but then arched her back pressing into the palm of my hand.

Finally, the kiss broke and she breathlessly asked me, “Do you have definite reservations anywhere?”

I shook my head.  “I figured we’d walk along Canal St. until we found a place that looks good to us.”

She gave me that “cat and canary” smile and said, “Right now, my bedroom looks pretty good to ME,” and without releasing her hold around me, she started moving sideways and kissed me again.  We “crabbed” our way to the bedroom .  As we were entwined, side by side on her bed, I asked:  “Your roommate . . . ?”

Another “cat and canary: smile”.  “She wont be back until 9:00 tomorrow morning.”

Obviously, the room had been prepared.  No light was on, but there were numerous candles, and soft, romantic music was playing.

My caresses covered her entire body, as her hands explored mine.  

“I’m going to take off your sweater,” I whispered as I petted her breasts.  

I felt her tense.  “I’d rather you didn’t.  Do you have to?”

“No, I don’t have to.  But I want to.”

“I’d rather not.  At least not right now.  Maybe later.”

My roommate wasn’t going to be back until tomorrow morning.  That meant Barnabas and I had a loooong time to be together.  We both relaxed and let our hands roam.  I was still nervous and frightened as his hands caressed my breasts.  But I knew I had nothing to fear from this gentle and loving man.  He had never used forced on me.  Even when he took my virginity, he had been gentle . . . and I really believed he would have stopped if I had asked him to.  His hand was caressing … caressing . . . I like that word . . .  caressing my breast and even though I felt nervous and frightened at having him . . . any man . . . touch my breasts . . . I knew I could trust him, and I knew that it brought him pleasure.  Surely, I could be a little uncomfortable so that I could please Him.

Then he asked me to take off my sweater, and I felt a cold sweat break out.  All of my fears came pouring back and I wanted to cry because I didn’t want to refuse this man anything he asked for.

Finally, I was able to put him off by saying that maybe later I would take the sweater off.  At least that wasn’t an outright rejection.  

Her breasts, again.  What was it?  

She had asked for time, and we had plenty of time, so I  accepted her request.  After our initial long kisses, the evening was developing into a slow paced, low-keyed time, so I simply returned to exploring the rest of her.   

Eventually, I had removed her skirt, pumps and stockings.  There was no girdle tonight.  I asked her if she wanted to unbutton my shirt, and she helped me off with it.  She was fascinated as she ran her hands over the hair on my chest.  She enjoyed kissing my bare chest, nipples, and even my belly button..  Finally, placing her hand on my belt buckle, she shyly asked if she could take off my pants.

I nodded, and paying close attention, she unbuckled my belt,  pulled down the zipper, and unbuttoned the button.  Then she tugged the pants down, taking my socks with them to the floor.  She came back up and examined my shorts, teasing

“I see someone hiding in there . . . and he seems interested in me!”  

She ran her hand over my partially flaccid, partially erect penis outlined in my shorts.  Then seriously looked up at me to ask, “Do you mind if I satisfy some of my feminine curiosities?”

I smiled and shook my head.

She lowered my shorts and carefully inspected  me in the candlelight.   

“You’ve been circumcised?”  

I nodded  she looked at every inch of me, then examined my scrotum and testicles.  “And these are very sensitive.?”  She asked, as she gently cupped them in her hand.    I nodded again.

She took hold of my organ and squeezed it and it responded by rising to the occasion.  She watched with fascination as it grew to its maximum size.    I heard her mutter under her breath, “I simply don’t believe it!”

I felt stimulated tonight, but not ruled by passion as I had been before.  We were just enjoying the touch of each other, no demands, no requirements, no pressure.

I lifted my hips as he took off my skirt, and enjoyed his kisses on my feet as my shoes and socks fell to the floor.  I half expected him to take off my panties, too, but he didn’t even touch them.  Instead, he returned to my side and held me, making me feel valued and treasured.

I found myself playing with the buttons of his shirt when he asked me if I wanted to unbutton it.  

It was almost a game watching each button leave it’s hole and the gap in his shirt expanded.   When it was open, I touched is chest and kissed it, as he unbuttoned the sleeves.  Soon, the shirt joined my skirt on the floor.

I felt ‘kittenish’, but relaxed and absolutely contented. I had made love with this man.   I had given him my virginity.   I was twenty-five years, and he had cared for me as he led me into womanhood.  I felt more like a woman now than I ever had before.  I had felt his sex in my hand, and inside me.  But I had never seen his sex.  

So I asked him if I could take off his pants.  Then I took off his underpants, also.  And there he was!  He let metouch him, feel him, hold him.  I had never seen a naked man this close before, and never been able to look this closely.  And as I touched him, I saw him grow, become hard and erect.  How does he do that?  That was amazing!

I realized how BIG he actually was when he was erect.  Again, I wondered how anything so large could fit inside me.   I was glad I hadn’t seen him before our first time, and I wasn’t thinking at all the second time.  But the second time didn’t hurt, so there must be some way that it works, some way that I  just don’t understand.  “I don’t believe it!”  I found myself muttering.  “I just don’t believe it!”

Suddenly, I realized how hard he was, and that he was throbbing!

“Does it hurt you?” I asked.

He shook his head.  “No, het’s just ready for business.”

“Do I have to do something?”  

“No.   He can wait,” he answered.  “Come, lie beside me and we can watch it together.”

I lay down beside him, and he took my hand, kissing It and holding it to his chest.  I put my head on his chest and watched, as the throbbing slowed and he gradually became softer, more flaccid.

“Wow!” I said.   “Wow!”

We just lay there for a while.   Then he said gently,

“Now it’s time for you to take off your sweater.”




More follows



She Doesn't Pt. 07



 I felt myself stiffen. After a moment’s hesitation, I asked, “Do I have to?”

He nodded. But I still hesitated. He had his arm around me, but he didn’t move.

I realized that he was completely naked, while I had on my blouse, bra, panties, and a sweater. I still didn’t want to. I was afraid.

“Do I have to?” I asked again.

“Do it for me,” he whispered. “Please.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Do it for me!”

After a long hesitation, I finally sat up, and my hands moved to the bottom of my sweater. But I just couldn’t do it. 

“Please help me,” I begged.

He sat up beside me and gently lifted my sweater up over my head, and up my arms, then the sweater joined his pants on the floor. 

I dropped my head, and crossed my arms across my chest, utterly dejected.

He came from behind me and kissed my neck, as his hands cupped my breasts.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why what?”

“Why won’t you let me take off your blouse?”

“I don’t want to!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t!”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to see me.”

“Why?”

“What difference does it make?” She pressed my hands to her breasts, then she turned around me and threw her arms around my neck. “We can make love as much as we like, I’ll do anything you want. Is it such a big thing for you to take off my top?”

“Why?”

She lay down on her back, pulling me over her, and whispered, “Just love me. Please, make love to me!”

I responded, “We can make love. But first, please tell me why.” My hands passed over her mounds, seeking her nipples. She looked away and wouldn’t answer. My hands went up to her neck, then down her breastbone and found the top button of her blouse. Her hand came up and covered mine, not resisting, but begging me to stop. I saw tears in her eyes.

“Please don’t make me,” she begged.

“Why?”

“I’m afraid!”

“Afraid of what?”

“I’m afraid you won’t like them.”

“They’re yours! I love YOU! Why wouldn’t I like your breasts.”

“They’re big and floppy!”

“Maybe I like big and floppy.”

“But not these. Nobody can like my breasts!”

THAT was the answer to my question!

I was astonished by this statement. Then suddenly I saw the problem.

“Who told you that?” I whispered.

She hesitated. “Skip Wheaton. . .”

“Who is Skip Wheaton?”

And the story came out. 

Cathy hadn’t been particularly popular in high school. She had been a little short and a bit chunky, but her breasts were bigger than most of the other girls in her school. Skip had been an athlete, and had the adulation of his peers, although Cathy always considered him a bit crude and unrefined. 

During Cathy’s junior year, he had asked her out, and she had felt enormously flattered that someone so “popular” would take an interest in her. 

The date ended up on lover’s lane where, at Skip’s urging, they both moved to the back seat of his car. 

If he had been patient and persuasive, Cathy admitted she might have eventually done whatever he wanted. But he was filled with teenage male hormones and grabbed Kathy, smashing her lips with his kisses and mauling her breasts, squeezing them like exercise balls. When she resisted, he had become more insistent, eventually ripping open her shirt and forcing his hand inside of her bra.

Cathy had scratched him and fought her way out of the car in terror. Skip had yelled epitaphs at her, screaming that he really didn’t care, that nobody would ever want her big, floppy tits, and he drove off, leaving her crying, in a torn shirt.

His actions had hurt her, but his words had hurt her even more. And they still hurt her as she relived them with tears streaming down her face. “Why did he treat me like that?” she burst out. “Why did he hurt me? And why did he just leave me there?” She cried into my shoulder and I held her tightly. 

I let her cry it out, and eventually her body stopped it’s wracking. Skip had spread stories about her at school, and boys had teased her mercilessly. They gave her the name “Headlights”. She dated even less after that event, and had never allowed any man to become remotely intimate with her again. She chose a small college halfway across the country, and studied costume design so she could learn how to dress in ways that would flatter her, but conceal her large breasts, and eventually became a rather successful costume designer. To her distress, her breasts, which had been fairly firm as a teenager, lost their tone in maturity and did, in fact, be come “big, floppy tits”.

She was drained after telling her story, 

“I need a tissue,” she said, sitting up and pointing to the nightstand on my side of the bed. I handed her the box, and she blew loudly, in a very unfeminine way. Looking around, and realizing the wastebasket was on the wrong side of the bed, she threw the tissue on the floor, and hung her head, still sniffling. 

I sat up beside her and put my arms around her waist.

“May I ask a few questions?” I asked.

She nodded her head.

“Did he love you?”

She shook her head.

“Do you love HIM?”

“No!!!!” she spat out, venom dripping from her voice.

“Do you love me?”

She turned and threw her arms around me and whispered into my neck, “Oooh, Yes!”

“Do I love YOU?”

She exhaled a deep breath and responded “I hope so!”

“Cathy, look me in the eye,” I instructed. She did. “Cathy, I love you. Now, do you believe that?” She nodded. I repeated my question. “Do I love you?”

She studied my eyes. “I think so.”

“Cathy, I LOVE YOU. Now, one more time. Do I love you?”

A smile slowly appeared on her tear streaked face. “Yes, I believe . . . no, I KNOW that you do!” She hugged me.

“Do you TRUST me?” I whispered into her ear.

She nodded.

I held her for a long time. Eventually she said, “I must look a mess. Let me wash my face!” and she went into the bathroom.

I found my pants piled on the floor and took a condom out of the pocket and found a place under the pillow where I could get it when I needed it. Then, I turned down the sheets, and sat on the bed, pulling the sheet over my legs, and waited for her to return.

She returned to the room, still wearing her blouse and panties, and smiled slightly when she saw the turned down bed. She sat beside me, and said, “I’m not sure I feel like it, but can we make love now?”

“Soon,” I answered. “Cathy, do you trust me?”

“Absolutely!”

“Do you trust me enough to let me unbutton your blouse?”

The same terror filled her eyes. She hung her head and a shutter passed through her entire body. She whispered, “Do you really want to?”

I nodded. “I REALLY want to!”

Tears started to form in her eyes. Then she crawled under the sheet beside me lying on her back with her hands outside the sheet by her side. And whispered, “I will do whatever you ask. But . . . .”

I leaned on my elbow beside her and put a finger over her lips, stopping her sentence. She kissed my finger.

I told her I loved her, and I slowly unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. She closed her eyes tightly as the button slipped through its hole.

More follows



She Doesn't Pt. 08



Chapter 11 – the Blouse

All sorts of emotions poured through me as I felt the button open. I was too frightened to do anything. I wanted to get up and run from the room. But my love for this man was even stronger, so I stayed, feeling like a lamb on the altar, waiting for the sacrifice.

Then he kissed my breastbone, and whispered, “I love you!”. And he kissed all of the skin that had just been revealed as the button opened. The edges of my bra were visible, and he kissed my breast all along the edge of the bra. I found myself trembling.

His hand moved to the next button.

When it opened, again, he said “I love you!” and kissed all of the newly exposed skin. More of my bra was exposed, so he kissed around the edges of the bra again. He never touched the bra itself, just the exposes skin.

I was still afraid, but everything he did made me love him more. I TRUSTED him. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but I was still afraid he wouldn’t like it when he saw me. NO man would ever want my big, floppy tits.

He moved to the next button, and again told me “I love you!” and kissed all the newly exposed ski.

Finally, the last button opened. “I love you!” He kissed my entire chest and belly as he pushed the shirt to my sides. He kissed me everywhere from my panties up to my shoulders, but he didn’t touch anything that was still covered.

I was basking in his kisses, but I was still afraid of what had to happen next. I think I was more afraid of this than I had been of loosing my virginity.

“Now, I’m going to unfasten your bra”

In an unconscious action, my hand flew up to my breasts, covering my bra. Then I saw the pleading in his eyes, and I caressed his cheek, and returned my hand to my side. I may have unconsciously known this would happen, because the Victoria’s Secret bra I was wearing fastened in the front.

He found the opening, and after a little fumbling. It loosened. He put his hand on my breastbone and slid it downward, between the open sides of the bra to my stomach, and followed his caress with kisses. Then, he took one cup of the bra and lifted it off of me, laying it on the side. The other cup followed. 

Again, my hand flew up to cover my nakedness, and I gazed pleadingly into his eyes. He took my hand, raised it to his lips and kissed both sides of it, then he returned it to my side, leaving me uncovered. I couldn’t look! I clenched my eyes closed and turned head away, waiting.

Nothing happened!

I opened my eyes and stole a glance at him.

He was just leaning over me as he had been, gazing at my breasts.

I turned my face to him to look into his eyes. His eyes met mine, then returned to gazing at my breasts. I glanced down at them. They were the same as always, except that my nipples were standing up. But the breasts were still big and floppy. I looked back at him, and his eyes met mine.

“They’re beautiful!”

In that moment, I felt more appreciated by this man that anyone, other than my family, had ever made me feel.

“Are they all right?”
 “They’re beautiful!”

“Do you . . . like them?”

“I like them! I wouldn’t want them to be any different.”

“But they ARE . . . “

Again, he put his finger to my lips, stopping my sentence. “But they ARE BEAUTIFUL!” and his eyes returned to my breasts. 

He looked at them for a long time, then he asked, “May I kiss them?”

I nodded.

Almost reverently, he bent lower, his lips grazed my nipple, then moved to the edge of my breast, kissing his way around, covering every inch and working his way by circular patterns toward the areola. but before he got to the nipple, he moved to the other and followed the same pattern. My hand came up to below my breast, and I supported it and raised it up, offering the nipple to his mouth.

His mouth moved over my nipple, almost as if it were an object of worship, and he tugged gently with dry lips. I arched my back toward him, and he finally took the nipple in his mouth and began slowly to suckle me.

I was dumbfounded by the awe with which he treated my breasts, and the value he seemed to place on them, and the respect he granted them. It was not until he had sucked gently for quite a while that he brought his hand up to support a breast, then allowed it to move to the other breast and massage it with almost feather-like gentleness.

He seemed to worship my breasts for a long time. Then gradually his kisses moved downward until he reached the waistband of my panties and I grasped a handful of his hair, but the made no effort to kiss me lower.

He remembered his promise!

As he kissed my stomach, he gently slipped my panties past my hips and knees, where I slipped my feet out of them. He continued to kiss my stomach, and I heard the sound of a packet tearing, and I knew he was putting on his condom. He moved between my legs and began to kiss his way back up. This time, he gave considerable attention to my breasts, before continuing upwards. I knew that when his lips reached mine, he would be positioned to enter me.

Our lips met, and I felt him touching my lower lips. As we kissed gently, he slowly moved into me. With utmost gentleness, he moved in and out of me. Since I wasn’t swept away with emotions as I had been before, I was able to watch him as we joined bodies. His eyes were closed and he was concentrating deeply. I watched his response as I squeezed him, and rocked into him. I saw the look of satisfaction as I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him deeper with each thrust. I saw his lips tighten as he began to speed up and grow larger in me, and his cum-filled balls slapped against my bottom. I saw his eyes squeeze tight as his breaths came fast and his grip around be became stronger and I heard his gasp as he poured his seed into me where it was captured by the condom. And I smiled as I felt him relax and collapse on top of me.

Later, we were sitting in bed, eating ice cream. Both of us were naked, but the sheet was draped over our legs.

I couldn’t believe how far I’d come in such a short time. Here I was, in bed with a MAN eating ice cream. Not only that, but I was BAREBREASTED and I didn’t care.

Well, maybe a little. I still had those nagging doubts that kept coming back. Finally, I had to ask:
”Barnabus, are my breasts REALLY OK?”

He looked at me for a moment, then his eyes squinted, his mouth puckered, and he started talking in a perfect imitation of Julia Childs!

“My dear!” He took the bowl of ice cream from my hand and put both bowls on the night table as he continued.

“Are you insulting me by questioning my judgment? I happen to be a connoisseur of woman’s titties!” I was giggling at his Julia Child imitation. He reached out to my breasts, taking one in each hand and punctuating each description he made by pushing, pulling, stretching, whatever seemed to match his words.

“I have seen BIG titties, small titties, fat titties, skinny titties, long titties, short titties, pancake titties, puffy titties, no titties, mammoth titties.”

He had me laughing at his carrying on.

“ I’ve seen narrow nipples, wide nipples, short nipples, long nipples, colored nipples, pale nipples, and even inverted nipples!” For emphasis he pinched my nipple.

“Ouch!” I put my hand up to my breast.

He returned to his normal voice and looking into my eyes, he whispered, “I’ve seen them all and I wouldn’t trade yours for any of them!

“And I would appreciate it . . . “ he allowed his hand to caress my breast “. . . if you didn’t disparage the breasts that I love!” He kissed my nipple, ran his lips over it pulling it gently into his mouth before releasing it and kissing it again.

“I love you!”

I had to ask one more time. “I remember in school In gym class . . there were some girls who had really perfect breasts. I envied them. 

I continued, “What kind of breast do you like best?”

Barnabus took me in his arms again. “Cathy, there are as many different sizes and shapes of breasts as there are women. I love your breasts, not because they are large or small, firm or flaccid, round or flat, even if you had no breasts. Whatever you have, I love because it belongs to YOU. I love you; I love your breasts, no matter what their size or shape.

“As long as they’re part of you, I’ll love them!”

Once again, by not answering my question, he HAD answered my question.

Chapter 12 – Epilog 

We continue dating, and make love as often as we can. I enjoy sex, and yes, I am an eager participant and I love the pleasure that I feel Barnabus experiencing, but sometimes I wonder if there should be more in it for me. I gave my roommate notice and she moved out at the end of the month. After I went on the pill, we made love a few times without the condom, so that I would know what it felt like. I liked it, but it was a little more messy. Then, he started using the condom again . . . he preferred it that way.

And every time we make love, Barnabus always takes off my top first. Then after he had paid his respects to my breasts, he continues undressing me and loving me.

We’ve begun to talk a little about marriage, but he’s still pretty sensitive about that subject.

I offered to have my breasts either reduced or firmed up, but he won’t hear of it.

So my breasts ARE still big and floppy. But, at least in Barnabus’ opinion, they are BEAUTIFUL. And after all, his opinion is the only one that really counts.

THE END