4 comments/ 35863 views/ 4 favorites Northside Awakening By: NorthCoastSmart When I think about Kristen, I remember stunning blonde-white hair, her continuous sex drive and sexual confidence, and the way she approached exams like the Olympics. Kristen was a serious student, an attractive and attentive lover, and a good-- if dull-- person. Our college relationship was my first and her fourth. Even though I was a year older, she appeared to be my senior in all respects. Kristen picked me out of a crowd at a party and seduced me before I could talk myself out of deserving her. After inviting me to her room on a pretense, her shirt was off within half an hour. I had gotten this far a few times, but not in the first couple of hours of acquaintance. Nor had I experienced stroking and sucking tits that were as beautifully shaped and pleasing. Her nipples soared upward from her medium size breasts, and Kristen moaned in response to every touch—light, rough, squeezing...whatever. Although I didn't know it at the time, she would be the easiest lover I have ever had. No matter how you tried to please her, it worked. Her sexual zone was generous and her needs obvious. I returned to my room three hours later in a happy, anticipatory state. Perhaps my virginity and I would soon be parted. Within the week I received and gave my first oral sex. She led me to the joy of tonguing my partner to orgasm in a forest of light yellow and exceptionally fine pubic hair. I think back on licking Kristen with delight whenever I see a woman with that sort of unusually blonde mane. Within two weeks my virginity was blessedly gone. I suspect she knew it was my first time. We never talked about it—that wasn't our type of relationship. It was about as good as I can imagine given the awkwardness of the situation. She put on the condom and softly told me how much she needed my hardness inside her. She made me feel competent, as if I had done her the favor of my sexual gift. I'll always love her for that afternoon. We made dinner together afterward, then fucked again. The second time was even better—more animal-like and intense. Our bodies were getting to knew each other by then, and intercourse was the big frontier I was crossing with her. Despite our beginning at her direction and charge, it was me who broke it off six months later, just before graduation. Kristen was a conservative Christian and a controlled person in every way except in bed. It amazed me how she compartmentalized her right-wing religious views and her guilt-free sexual pursuit. But when we ventured into politics, life after college, careers or anything else, it was clear that we were careening in opposite directions. We were from the same type of family of origin, but by the end of college I was well on the way to becoming what I became: an urban, left-leaning, agnostic bicycle rider. Kristen never stopped being what we were raised. And she probably has one happy and sexually fulfilled CPA of a husband by now. I hope so anyway. A REVIVAL OF CHRISTIAN WOMEN I went to medical school after college. The third year routine was in place when I heard someone behind me in the Saturday morning line at the Daily Grind Cafe, "Jake? You probably don't remember me, but I'm Anna, a friend of Kristen's from Ann Arbor." "Anna Fuller," I replied. "You had this cool hand-knit red and purple sweater you always wore, you sat three rows behind me in World Music, and you use to date that creep with the big biceps, Chester something...Or, at least I hope it is a used-to date situation," I bit my lip in mock anticipation of being wrong, although I thought that highly unlikely. "Creep doesn't get half-way to that bad choice. And, hey, I guess you do remember me," Anna said with more than a hint of being flattered. "What brings you to Chicago, other than the giant magnet that draws in about half of us leaving Ann Arbor." "Medical school. Someone told me that I had messy handwriting and would be a natural at this. I'm in my third..." Just then two of Anna's friends came into the shop, obviously in a pre-arranged meeting of their group. "Mila and Alyson, this is Jake Lindman. He was the boyfriend of a friend of mine at Ann Arbor." Anna finished introducing us and graciously transitioned to small talk that had all of us feeling comfortable. When things started to wind down, she asked if I wanted to join their group discussion at Alyson's house. "We have a bible study and religion discussion group on Saturday mornings. I know that doesn't sound like much fun, but we talk about lots of stuff. We include strays all the time." As unexciting as that sounded, I rarely turn down the opportunity to spend time with three pretty, young women. Alyson was stunning—perfect breasts with just visible nipples, narrow waist and flawless, delicate features. She had hints of freckles around her nose. Her legs seemed to start about an inch south of those ideal breasts and slope down forever to her carefully selected and stylish shoes. She could have any straight guy on the north side of Chicago, or any other city. Anna was pretty in the way that most 23 year old women are pretty. A touch chubby, glowing skin and a winning smile. Anna's looks were all the better paired with her inclusive and warm manner. But it was for Mila that I said yes to bible study. Alyson was out of my league and I sensed out of my comfort zone, as well. Anna didn't excite me enough to get over that mountainous cross between her huge breasts. And her friendship with Kristen was a cut wire I would rather not reconnect. Mila, however, was strangely and intensely attractive to me. She was medium height, on the thin side of average and had tiny lumps on her chest; breasts so small that a bra was almost irrelevant. She had wiry arms with a hint of shop-guy muscles. Her ass looked to be about perfect. She had on shorts that showed off her nice legs. Mila's long, brunette hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense pony-tail. Mila dressed in an eclectic style, with yellow Chucks, jean shorts and a red top with a small graphic in yellow-- a tear drop over an abstract shape. Her glasses were small, East Village sophisticated. Mila had a slightly shy way with an obviously quick wit. Hard to describe, but just an out-there style mixed with rather nerd mannerisms. I really like smart. She seemed bright and curious, on first impression. And how this all fit with post-college bible study I couldn't quite manage yet. I trailed back and conversed with Anna while Mila's perfect butt preceded us by a few steps. "So, what's the subject of bible study today?," I asked out of curiosity about the proselytizing hell I had agreed to join. "We just open the bible randomly and read a bit and talk," Anna replied to my delight. That seemed like something Kristen (or my aunts or anyone else back home) would never have had the spontaneity or initiative to experience. "Sounds like a good program. I have to admit that I have strayed a bit since the time I was dating Kristen," I said, trying to soften the way for at least a marginal amount of my truth to come out during the next hour or so. "Since Kristen described you as her lovable heathen, I can't imagine you've strayed more in the last couple of years," Anna offered in a teasing and accepting way. "It doesn't matter. We are not quite as devout as Kristen, although- like her- we all have pledged to stay virgins until marriage." I was speechless-- stunned how much and how well Kristen had hidden herself from her friends. Kristen was about as virginal as the average 35 year old bar waitress. We crossed Clark Street, and we headed up Rousseau to Alyson's apartment. Compared to my dump, we were up five rungs on the income ladder. This beautiful woman had serious money, too. After settling into meeting mode, Alyson took leadership and opened the bible to a part that included a familiar quote: "Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, let your mind dwell on these things. [Philippians 4:8]." I mostly sat silent while these young women shared parts of their lives. They seemed a bit tense with me there, but eventually got more real. Mila was amazing. She was more than just smart, and really introspective. Alyson, predictably, was the least reflective, but well-intentioned. Her remarks basically can be summarized as a Dale Carnegie hymnal. Anna was honest and had an open heart. As the only male, a closet (then) agnostic and the newcomer, I tried to be unobtrusive. Mila called me out. "Jake, I understand this may not be the easiest setting for you, but what is true, honorable and pure and lovely that you want to dwell on?" My first instinct was to say, "your nice-looking butt, Mila." I thought of being glib—not appropriate. How about ducking it with banality—no, I wanted Mila to think me not shallow. Maybe I even wanted to be not shallow. So I tried for the best part of the truth that occurred to me at the moment. "I guess I don't believe in being right and pure. I believe in being kind and gentle and respectful to other people and the earth. I mostly believe in being alive and focusing on now. I don't think there is a heaven for believers or a hell for the wicked, so I don't care if I am abstractly good by some standard that makes no sense for the life I can sense." I thought that would pretty much end the morning for me, but it did the opposite. All three came alive in different ways. Alyson wanted to do battle with my ideas. Anna just wanted to drop off the burden of being good that she had been carrying around like rocks in her pack. Mila wanted to fuck me. I saw it in her eyes as soon as I looked up from talking. And I wanted her to know I wanted her. We talked for half an hour or so, then Mila steered the conversation toward the direction of sex. "What about nudity? What's wrong with that? Some days I feel so oppressed by this God who has been drilled into me my whole life. I'm 23 and I've never seen a guy naked. I'm not sure that's so good and pure." Alyson was shocked, but Anna jumped on the theme. "Me, too. I've never even done more than kiss a guy. I used to wear that as some badge of honor, but now I just feel lonely and..." She was searching for words. Mila went for the guts: "horny?" "Yeah, horny," Anna said with blush rushing over her face. Then some giggles by both of them. I found this conversation both a little sad and a lot erotic. These women were pretty old to have so little experience with men (let's just assume they were more honest than Kristen—I think that was the case, but maybe not so with Alyson). The atmosphere of intimacy was building the sexual tension. I was trying to hide my growing erection when Alyson even joined the crowd, "I know people think I turn away date offers all the time, but actually everyone considers me just too uptight to ask out. My only relationships have been with a guy on his way out of the closet, some guy who tried to jump me on the second date and Walter." They all nodded in a tsk-tsk at the mention of Walter, and I just let that be. I had an idea (or was this Mila's idea I was channeling?) and I decided to go for broke. I figured the worst thing that could happen was avoiding The Daily Grind for the next few Saturdays. "Since I broke up with Kristen I've had a couple of relationships. I'm not a virgin anymore." This, of course, was a literal, but highly misleading, truth in protection of Kristen. "I know it may be different for a guy, but I like having sex. No apologies." Silence. Why not go on as long as you've tanked anyway, I thought. "If you want, I will get naked for you so you can see what a guy looks like." I was rushing the words and looking at my feet as I continued, "but I'll warn you that being around three women as attractive as you means I'm probably going to have an erection with you staring at me." I looked up at Mila as I finished. I knew immediately we were thinking along the same line. Mila let Anna talk first. "Jake, I would appreciate seeing you and anything you will show us. It's a lot safer here with the three of us and you than some of the alternatives." "Me, too," quickly joined Mila. Alyson held back. "Jake, I don't know. Maybe I'll go in the other room while you show," she slowly announced. "Of course, whatever you are comfortable with," Mila said. Alyson got up and started to the kitchen, then turned around and sat back down. "Oh, why not. I should have done this awhile ago," she declared, throwing out her caution. Everyone laughed and much of the tension was gone. My erection had wilted in the process of negotiating this and I figured now was the time to go for it. I'm no beauty, but I'm proud enough of my body. Given the lighter mood, I went for a somewhat striptease effect. The three women started hooting...all of us enjoying the campiness of it, and all of us aware that I wasn't a Chippendale and they weren't middle aged housewives. When I took off the last of it, I was starting to get hard again. Mila, Anna and Alyson grew silent watching my dick extend out to a full erection. I was aware of every breadth as I saw three attractive women staring at my hard-on. They were in a semi-circle in front of me, and I walked nearby so they could look closely at me. I kneeled in front of them. It was intoxicating for all of us. "You can touch it, if you want," I suggested. Mila reached out to stroke me a few times. It was electric. Alyson did the same. I maybe was her first hard-on, and she will likely remember that forever. Anna was the boldest. She reached underneath and lightly touched my balls. "Is this OK?," she wanted to know. "It's more than OK. It's wonderful. All of your touches feel wonderful," I said looking at Mila. Mila moved over and kneeled in front of me. The other two followed. All three started stroking my balls and dick and passing their hands over my dick's engorged, red-purple head. Between deep breaths and genuine pleasure, I explained pre-cum, that I was circumcised and the rest of the basics. "Can I teach you to masturbate a guy?," I asked hopefully. I didn't need to wait for the yes responses. I started to stroke myself. Then I grabbed Mila's hand and taught her to run her grip down the length of my penis, adjusting the tightness when needed. Each had a turn. After a few minutes I started to feel the urgent building of a climax. I got Mila to take over because I was connected to her and wanted her to be the one who got me off. I asked everyone to move away from my front as I was getting ready to cum. Mila was pulling on me in nice rhythm by now. I could feel the orgasm grab me and I ejaculated across the room. Three good loads and some dribbling of cum. I was spent. When I looked up, three pretty women were staring in amazement at the trail of white in front of them across the hardwood floor. I looked at the faces of heightened senses and felt an ego boost that I was still riding at New Year's. A cleaning-up, getting dressed and such later, it was about five minutes before we really started talking again. I was trying to make sure everyone felt OK. Alyson was slipping in and out of fundamentalist guilt, but Anna was pumped, while Mila and I were trying to figure out how to be alone together. "That felt incredible. Thanks to each of you. I've never done anything like that," I said. "I doubt I'll ever have three gorgeous women touching me at the some time like that ever again." All three said they were really happy to have learned so much about sex. We had some food Alyson put out and talked about subjects other than sexual frustration and nudity. Alyson started to look at me with some real attention, but that wasn't going to happen. Even up, I wanted Mila. Bright, intriguing and flat-chested Mila. I gave everyone a hug and started to walk toward the door. Both Mila and Anna said they were leaving, as well. We all headed for the L stop at Belmont. I grabbed a hand of each as we walked. The three of us probably looked a bit of the ménage-a-trois we sort of had been as we stood on the old wooden platform. Anna was heading back toward the Loop, which is where I needed to go to accomplish some work. But I lied and said I was heading north on the Ravenswood line—Mila's direction. I hugged Anna as her train came rattling in and she was whisked away toward Lincoln Park and downtown. I was a bundle of positive nerve endings as Mila and I embraced in our first kiss, oblivious to the fellow El riders and bound for a bright Saturday afternoon journey to the farther reaches of the north side. MILA'S APARTMENT I don't remember much about that train ride other than Mila's tongue and mine exploring in the empty seats we scored in the back of the train car. Her bare legs were intertwined with my chinos. Each time she rubbed against me, a jolt went through to the erection straining my pants. Her tiny one-room apartment was two blocks off the Western stop, just behind one of my favorite restaurants, Mella Sera. She had the attic. It was hot up there, so she broke away long enough to open some windows and turn on some fans. That gave me a chance to take in a pleasing living space. An unframed poster of the Lakes District in Britain or such; original artwork of high quality I later learned she had painted and placed all over; a vase with one stalk of asters (picked off an alley stray) on some hand-built pine shelving that contained her clothes; and maroon painted walls. The one thing you would not call it was uptight Christian. When she came back to me I pinned her into the bed with my erection pressing in the middle of her shorts. We were kissing, but hesitation had infiltrated our pleasure. "Mila, do we need to slow down a bit?," I offered. "No. I'm just so excited being with you, and this is all so quick, and I'm scared I'll do something I regret—too soon anyway." She finished with a mostly anxious look at the floor. "I totally understand. Are you really a virgin?," I gently asked. "Yes. I wouldn't lie to you," she said with more sincerity than offense. I've never gone beyond kissing with a guy until I held your penis today. I'm so ready for sex I'm going to explode, but even though I'm 23, almost 24, I'm still all mixed up about it." Her pain and confusion were palpable. Her honesty endearing. "I have an idea. I'm your sex waiter. Here's your menu of erotic ventures du jour. For an appetizer, we have holding hands and talking. For a first course, we have lots of kissing and groping each other. For a main course, you have four choices: extra helpings of kissing and talking, a dish of hand motions designed as payback for that delightful mini-orgy this afternoon, or tongue braising, which is served with my head between your legs. We also have rock-in hen today, an intercourse served however you want it. The dessert tray comes later. And your order, ma'am?" Mila started giggling half way through and had her head on my chest laughing by the end. It was pretty corny but it seemed to do the trick and bring her back to us. "Skip the appetizer, please, I've had lots of nibbling today. Let's go back to the first course. Then, can I have...I'm not really sure, but the last dish sounds a little heavy for right now. Can you describe the other two?," she asked, pretending to appraise the specials. "Of course. The hand entree starts with me slowly taking off your shorts and slipping my fingers in your underwear, where I gently touch the outside of your pussy and work my way up through your pubic hair, ultimately ending in a nice rhythm circling your clitoris. The oral is my personal favorite. We begin with some of the former and then I start to kiss my way all around your stomach and taut, gorgeous thighs. I spend as long as you will let me on that perfect ass, licking and kissing everywhere while I run my hand under your front side and begin stroking your clit. Then I lick up and down your cunt, moving into whole mouth adventures up and down each side. Ultimately, after other such events, I will suck your upper pussy while I roll my tongue around your clit. If you want it, the cook can push a finger in your cunt and put on some gentle, upward pressure. The oral sex dish focuses on your movements until I feel you cum while I'm sucking you. I think all of our customers would love this dish, but as you are the only one in the restaurant now and hopefully for awhile, I guess that's just speculation." Northside Awakening Mila had the look of a young woman who finally was going to get something long desired. She started kissing me passionately. "Whatever you want, Jake," she whispered. "I've been dreaming about this for a long time," she added absent-mindedly between kisses. My experience is pretty limited, but I've already figured out that women who don't say no to oral mean yes. "It's the oral, then." I had my pants and shirt off now, but Mila still had on her clothes. I heard a groan of pleasure as Mila rubbed her shorts-covered cunt a little harder over my now bare leg. I slipped Mila's t-shirt over her head and kissed my way around her shoulders. I gently kissed under her breasts while I unhooked her bra. Her tiny tits opened to me, I was looking at fully erect nipples that really excited me. I licked her slowly, then dragged my mouth across her right nipple maintaining only a little pressure and with a lot of soft lips dragging across and slightly sucking. I increased the sucking pressure and rolled her nipple with my tongue. I stayed on her right nipple for a long, long time, while simultaneously stroking her sides and her bare legs with my fingers. I move to her left breast and began stroking under her ass checks as I reached my hands through her shorts and lifter her underwear a bit. Mila was moaning and letting me totally focus on her pleasure. She started to grab my penis, but I re-focused the attention on her by kissing her cunt through her shorts. She was jamming herself into my face and totally into the experience. I felt pure joy at her abandon. As I unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts, I started kissing my way around her stomach. I took off her shorts and underwear in one motion. Mila's lanky nakedness was amazing. Her cunt was soaking, her breath was ragged and her nipples huge as I ran my right fingers from her ass crack around the side of her pussy lips and then very lightly grazed her clit. I kissed her and then moved back to her nipples as I ran a finger from the bottom of her cunt, a slight bit into her hole and then started a rhythmic circling of her clit with a light touch. She exploded in a couple of minutes. Mila screamed and bit my shoulder and held onto me tightly as she came in wave after wave. I felt her relax and then whispered that I was going to start sucking her. She kept saying, "oh my god, oh my god." I licked her whole slit and put my mouth over her cunt while my tongue searched out her clit. I held her perfect ass in my hands and sucked her for only two or three minutes when another orgasm hit her. After everything subsided, I moved up alongside her and held her in my arms. She rested her head on my chest. We luxuriated in each other for a long time. A couple of times Mila grabbed on tightly and then ran her body up and down mine, as if she was testing that we were really in her bed together, having sex, not a dream. I brought her head up to mine and kissed her again, then said: "You are so beautiful and attractive, Mila. I love our slender bodies spread over each and you snuggled into me. You feel really right." I meant it; she felt just right. We held each other as the light in the apartment began to fade. Her long hair was covering us like a small blanket and I was lightly kissing her forehead and sucking a little on and around her ear. We stroked and held each other for an hour, maybe more. Really, Mila felt just right. DINNER UNDER THE TRACKS I was so lost in her body that I had stopped paying attention to my own. I was starving. "Mila, I'm famished. Let's get dinner." "Now that you say it, I'm starving. I was just so wrapped up in...well, you know," she said, ignoring the language of sex. I didn't want to just let that sit there, so I said, "You mean me having the best afternoon sex of my life, sucking your cunt and feeling you cum twice. Yeah, I totally know." Mila beamed at me. She liked that I was using direct language to discuss sex. She just wasn't ready for that herself, unless perhaps in the heat of the moment. "How about I take my new girlfriend to Mella Sera?," I suggested. The "girlfriend" part got me a huge kiss. I love the feeling of having a girlfriend; a new girlfriend rife with possibilities. I had never been as excited about anyone so quickly as I was about Mila. Then, she said, "I've never been there, it's a little pricey for me—are you sure?" I was getting a sense that Mila was not from either a background or a current reality of wealth, perhaps not even middle class. "It's OK. It's really not that much to spend on a beautiful date. Let's go." We got dressed in a hurry (we were a couple of skinny 20-somethings and both quite hungry) and headed down to the pleasant square where Mella Sera had tree covered tables on the patio. But we had shown up without reservations at 7:20 on Saturday and were out of luck. So we headed down a few blocks to a fun Thai hole in the wall we both knew. It is literally under the L tracks. Your plates shake when the train goes overhead. I began discovering more about my new lover, starting with her last name-- Wurtman. She is number five of six kids and the only one with a college education. Her dad worked as a lineman for the phone company and her mom stayed home. There was no money for college, but she got a full ride to a college in Minnesota. I made her admit that she had never gotten a B in her life. She seemed embarrassed to let me know she was smart, or "too smart." "About the sexiest thing I can think of is someone who is smart and loves learning. Well, a woman who is smart with an ass like yours doesn't hurt." Again, Mila seemed really into hearing crass language, breaking through the most conventional of limits. But I could see she was really happy to hear that I wasn't going to be intimidated by a smart, or even smarter, partner. We talked about her love of novels. She was thrilled that I had read everyone she loved the most. We both liked Poisonwood Bible much more than any other Barbara Kingsolver story. She knew little of my political interests (Chompsky, ecologists like Lovins), and I knew little of her philosophic heroes (Mills, Rawls). She was working at a downtown law firm, thinking about applying to law school for the next fall. She wanted to be a good-guy lawyer, maybe legal aid or consumer protection or even white collar prosecution. We discussed the pleasure of school and the pain of it. I told her stories about evil med school professors, and of my favorites. It all sounded better to her than paralegal work looking through boxes of documents in a giant bankruptcy case. By the last sip of tea and the check paid, I was way ready for more sex. "Mila, can we go back to your place?," I inquired. "Yeah," she said grinning. "Definitely back to my place. I have a bed that needs my new boyfriend in it tonight." We walked back slowly, holding hands. I pulled her into a little nook between two buildings and we made out in our private fort hidden from Saturday evening on Lincoln Avenue. When we got back into her apartment, Mila became the aggressor. She put me on the bed and told me to stay put. Mila slowly undressed in front of me. She took over her t-shirt (no bra this time) and then her shoes. She looked me in the eye as she lugubriously unbuttoned her jeans shorts and silently unzipped them. Her underwear was off next. She could see my erection building. Mila undid my shirt buttons. When I started to touch her, she put my hands back on the bed. She took off my shirt and started to lick my nipple. I've heard some guys could care less, but it sends me. My dick was getting harder than hard—huge, jutting and full. Mila trusted her own instincts on this and did it just it right. It was heaven for fifteen minutes or so, with long kissing sessions in between. Mila stopped to fondle my erection straining in my pants. While she did this, she said, "Nothing will ever be the same, Jake. This has been unbelievable. Just unbelievable. Thank you." Mila reached down and assertively unbuttoned my pants and took them off, along with my underwear. With both hands holding my freed erection, she started to stroke it as she had that afternoon. I could feel that mutual desire which builds when your partner knows she is giving you pleasure. I was more than ready for this round. Her wiry strength was exciting. Mila looked me in the eye and said, "I am going to give you oral right now. I'm going to suck on you and feel you explode. I wanted to try this afternoon when everyone else was watching. I'll admit that I'm a little nervous about it, but I want to learn and I want to taste you, like you did with me." Seeing how much she meant it, I was on fire. "Wow. You are making me crazy, Mila. I don't want to cum in your mouth the first time, so we'll need something to catch the ejaculation. You've already seen what that is about." "Thanks," she replied. "I was kind of worried about whether I would like the taste and feel of that shooting into my mouth." Mila grabbed her underwear off the ground. "You can cum in here. It'll be like I'm practicing for when you fuck me some day." That sounded really encouraging. If possible, it made me more horny. She took the head of my dick in her mouth and sucked it over and over. She moved around to straddle me in more of a 69 position and kept sucking. I started to move slightly up and down and she got the idea. Not expert head, but she was experiencing something new and that has its own excitement and joy. I started stroking her legs as she was giving me this pleasure. I reached around and wnet back and forth near her wet clit. The moans she gave went right through my dick, deliciously. I lifted up my head and began licking and lightly biting her ass. I slipped my hands around to stroke her clit. She was wet, wet. I lightly stroked her clit while kissing her ass and thighs. I was getting ready to cum with her blowjob. Then Mila lost it as she started to feel her pressure building again. She leaped off and turned around to jump onto my stomach. She said, "fuck me right now. I want you in me—fuck me now." She positioned her cunt over my dick and started to rub. It didn't take anytime for me to snap to reality. Disappointed as I was at losing that blow job, I wasn't about to change the terms of the evening that quickly. "No way, Mila. I'm not here for fucking tonight. Let's just be sure we wake up in each other's arms tomorrow knowing we have a great start. You were a committed virgin this morning; you made it clear you didn't want that earlier and you need some time to think about it. Let's just keep it where we are at—which, by the way, is amazing. Can we go back to that moan on my erection thing?" "Jake, you have to be the sweetest guy on the planet. But sucking you and having you suck me, I'm not much a virgin anymore. What does virgin mean with your dick in my mouth and me screaming with one orgasm after another. Just fuck me now." "Mila, I don't have condoms, so we can't anyway." It was a dodge, but I thought it would work. Mila got off me and went to her dresser. She pulled out an unopened box of Trojans. "I got these last month. I've been thinking about trying to lose my virginity somehow. Unless you overpower me to get out of here, it's tonight. It's this instant, Jake." She tore open the box and struggled with the package. I took it from her and gave her the condom. "No. I mean it. If you still want it tomorrow, OK. But not tonight. I am really attracted to you, Mila. We're flying, but let's just slow down that much. OK?," I said trying to muster both confidence and finality of tone. With no more words, Mila took my erection in her mouth again and then inched down toward the other side and end of the bed. Mila's underwear from the floor was soon full of my cum. I exploded in one string after the other. It was wonderful. It was 2:00 am before we started to fall asleep. "Jake, it's tomorrow now. Can we fuck?," She blushed at her use of vulgar language; her emboldening in our intimacy. I laughed; it was cute. "Nice try, Wurtman. But your desperate virgin act isn't going to work tonight." We fell asleep kissing. I didn't think that was possible, but it is. A SUNDAY ALARM It was barely light when Mila woke me and said that she needed to start getting ready to leave. "It's 6:45 in the morning," I said partly as a statement of fact and partly as a question. I was too flush from wonderful sex to leave a trace of accusation. "I have to get dressed and take the Metra out to Barrington for church," she stated. "Barrington? On Sunday?," I groped. "What's up with that?" Mila explained that she took the commuter line out to the far northwestern suburbs so that she could attend a church of her family's strict, fundamentalist denomination. Her sponsor, Mrs. Colbron, called her parents every Sunday afternoon to let them know that Mila had made it to church. So, she told me, she had to get to the train so Mrs. Colborn wouldn't tell her parents. I looked at this beautiful, young woman-- this smart, witty artist—and I felt a wave of sympathy for the burden laid over her. I kissed her gently. "Mila, just call and tell Mrs. call-the-'rents that you aren't coming today. Then, jump back into bed with me and do a different sort of cumming." The easy back-and-forth from Saturday night wasn't there. Mila looked at me a little sternly and said, with a noticeable sense of obligation, "It isn't that easy for me, Jake. My parents will drive down here if I don't show up at church this morning. In my congregation, young women are 'chaperoned' until married. If you don't let your sponsor where you are and why, you will be punished." I was trying to appear calm while I wanted to scream "what a load of crap." I settled on this: "You were making love with me last night. Does your sponsor know that? Does she know how sweet you were in bed with me and how you all but begged me to have intercourse with you? I'm guessing that will be our secret, and it should be our secret. You do NOT owe an explanation of your passion to church ladies, your parents or anyone else. You are beautiful, you are brilliant and you are way old enough to stop living like that if you want a free life. Call your sponsor and tell her there's no commuter train today, no Mila. Lie if you want, tell a half-truth, I don't care. Just spend the day with me." Mila started to cry. I didn't know what this meant, but I reached out for her and she folded into me. She sobbed deeply while I stroked her hair. "OK, Jake. You are being a little rough, but you're right. It is time to be myself. I don't even like those people in Barrington. I love my church back home, but I can never go back to that life." "Tell you what," I suggested, "how about we go to Old Town where a buddy of mine is preaching today. I don't really buy his story anymore, but he has a good heart and he's really funny for a church guy. You can try a more open religion and see what you think." "What is the denomination?," Mila asked. "U.C.C.; Congregational. That OK?" Mila got a worried look for a moment and then relaxed and said, "What the H. If I'm going to Satan I might as well go all the way. At least it isn't Unitarian." She laughed a small giggle. I laughed much louder and said, "that's next week." She groaned and laughed at the same time. "Alright little girl, Satan has a horn he wants you to rub. And St. Mark's is a short L away and doesn't start until 11, so we've got a lot of time to experiment with evil." "You corrupter," Mila managed to get out as I started to pull her out of the silly Easter-like dress she had put on. In about 20 minutes, Satan's new convert was having an orgasm like you wouldn't believe. CHURCH? It was hard convincing Mila that she would feel more comfortable in a longish sundress than the lacy white she associated with church, but this was my gig, so she went along. My friend Alex was giving the sermon that day and he started off with what he described "as that hoary old bible quote from Philippians about whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, let your mind dwell on these things." I almost fell off the pew, as it was the same quote we had been discussing at Mila's bible group yesterday morning (had it really only been one day?). Mila and I exchanged glances and had a hard time not starting a case of giggles, but church was too solemn an occasion with Mila for this to last long. Alex was great. He said something none of us mentioned. Alex suggested that we think about the quote as referring to our internal lives, not conditions outside of us and of only others' creation. That we use it to find the better parts of our own character, and that we make a choice to emphasize the good, lovely parts of ourselves so that others can benefit from what we have to offer. This wasn't profound really, but it sent Mila into intellectual shock. Church was not supposed to be this sort of talk. Alex got funny and personal. He ended with a song written by a 13 year old boy—a member of the congregation. It was angsty and melodramatic, but I bet that kid will never forget the grown-ups treating him like one of their own. As we left the church, Alex gave Mila special attention. It was more than just flattery of the visitor. I think he sensed her excitement and openness, although Mila's shy demeanor didn't make that an easy read. Alex said as we started to depart, "I hope you feel comfortable returning, or better yet, exploring elsewhere and then joining a place that feels like you." I knew this was not what Mila would expect from clergy. Mila gripped my hand tightly as we reached the sidewalk. As we gained some privacy toward end of the next block, I walked in front of her and knelt down. "Jump on," I'll carry you to the station. She grinned broadly and climbed on my back. I felt her taut legs in my hands and her pussy was pushed against my back. She kept hold of my neck with those wiry arms and I could imagined and sort of feel perky nipples hard on my shoulder blades. Mila whispered in my ear, "That was a great service. I had no clue other churches were like that. Now we go to you place and you will do me, Lindman. No arguments!." "No argument, Wurtman," I replied, and my pace quickened noticeably. We got to my place in less than 15 minutes. It seemed like more than 24 hours since I left my apartment for coffee at the Daily Grind. "Sorry it's a mess. I wasn't planning..." And then Mile jumped me. No other way to describe it. She dragged me to the floor and pinned me on the fraying oriental rug I was given by my brother. Mila leaned in and slowly kissed me on the mouth. She lingered with her lips sucking on my lower lip. She grazed her tongue over my teeth and sweetly played my tongue. While she did this, she was very slightly moving herself up and down on my stiffening dick inside my pants. Her hands reached under my shirt and ran up my sides, stopping on my nipples. Stroking them back and forth, she started kissing her way down my neck. I had the strangest thought. I remembered how Kristen had me feel so confident and competent when I lost my virginity. I wanted to do the same for Mila. Not be the teacher. Not dominant her. Just let her know how wonderful she was at making love and that I felt all this tenderness at the same time I wanted her like a hungry animal wants meat. I kissed her and then rolled her on her side. I asked her to come to bed with me. We moved to my bedroom and I was relieved that my bed was at least made. I brought her down to the bed and took off her dress. I kissed one bare shoulder and then lightly kissed my way to her left nipple. She ground her underwear into me. When enough was done, she undressed head to toe. My prick was rock hard and sprung out of my underwear with a vengeance. Mila rubbed on my leg while she sucked my nipple. Northside Awakening I reached down to her ass and traced her butt up and down. I started to kiss down toward her cunt. Mila rolled over to her back and spread her legs. I could tell she thought of fucking as missionary (as I imagined a few virgins of both genders have done before), and I could tell she was ready to see her virginity go. I quickly pulled a condom out of my drawer and put it on. She took over and spread it down the length of my completely engorged penis. Mila took my covered erection and guided it toward her pussy. I let her control the tempo. I pushed slightly, as little as possible and slowly eased into her. I imagined her as stoic, and that she seemed. A farm girl who had experienced pain and wasn't going to make this anymore dramatic than necessary. She tensed slightly as I kept pushing into her cunt. She pushed back and we found a rhythm together. I stole a look at her face and I will never forget the mix of surprise, pain and intense feeling she radiated. I love the way she looked. Thinking back on her face the next day, it occurred to me that I hadn't paid enough attention to the faces of my lovers when we were fucking. I think Mila had a good first experience, but I knew that I had done my best for her. I kissed her face and held her for a long time after I had cum (we didn't discuss it, but I'm pretty sure there was only one orgasm that afternoon). After we recovered, Mila was grinning like she had won the big game, or gotten asked to the dance by the right guy. Her joy was patent, and infectious. No questions were asked, just happiness. I made her a special lunch out of what I could find in the fridge and freezer—a soup with some frozen fish stock, left- over restaurant swordfish from a now-forgotten boring Friday date, a splash of pernod and some canned tomatoes. It came out great. I made a picturesque salad and set a beautiful table with a bottle of white wine. Mila had obviously never seen a guy cook, never imagined cooking something so off-beat for her, and I am sure she had no idea how happy it made me watching her exclaim over everything. It was painful, but I actually had to send her home that afternoon. I had med school deadlines crashing on me. Just so there was no question that this was not a fuck the virgin and go situation, I made sure to get three dates to be together over the next week. As we started down the apartment hall so I could walk her to the El, I impulsively ran back and got an apartment key. "I've never done anything like this, but here," I said as I handed her the key. "Will you take this? I don't want to see any other women and I want you to plan on being over here as much as you can. This was an incomparable weekend for me." Mila started crying as she held me in the hall. "Me, too," was her only answer. It was plenty because I knew it was real. POSTSCRIPT I fell in love with Mila Wurtman that month. I was hauling her home to meet the parents by Thanksgiving and lying to her folks about my fervent religious beliefs by that Christmas. Mila was like a flowering vine that year. She was reveling in the richness of sensual pleasures that were opening to her—food, the Arboretum in May, available and comfortable sex, sailing on a borrowed boat in Lake Michigan. I was learning about poets from Mila and blown away by short stories she labored over like children. The next fall she started law school at UC- Berkeley, Boalt Hall. I felt confident that we would make it even though we would be apart for a few years. I'm probably not the only guy to have made that miscalculation. We stayed together through the next summer, when she returned to Chicago. But I couldn't get a residency in the Bay Area the next year. I found myself doing serious flirting with a beautiful high school Chemistry teacher, and Mila's letters (we liked to write in long hand and send them with stamps) and emails started to get erratic. We sent each other "dear john" letters that crossed in the mail. I called her to tell her how sad I was when I got her letter. She had just finished reading mine. Both of us cried a lot on the phone. "I can't believe that two people so in synch that they send crossing break-up letters really have to break-up," she said sadly. I didn't talk to Mila again for almost five years. Then I saw her waiting for a plane at a gate in O'Hare. "Mila!? Is that you?," I ventured. "JAKE! Oh, wow. JAKE!," again. "I think of you so much." I didn't want to offend, but I was pretty sure, "Pregnant?" "Four and a half months," she replied. "Mila, I'm glad you're married and I'll assume happy. I think of you all the time." We exchanged pleasantries. I had to cut to the real stuff with her. "I've never really fallen in love the same way. Remember that weekend we first met?" "Better than anything else in my life. Some days I think that weekend is only the thing in color and everything else has been black and white." We were silent for a minute. "So, let's hear the details. Who is he? Where are you living? Everything." She looked down at the floor, then said, "he's a she." I was really slow on that pitch. Finally, I broke out laughing. "You! My hottest memory and you are lesbian!?," I half-shouted and half-giggled. "Well, I go both ways now. The Bay air did it!," she mocked. Then she got more serious. "I'm on my way home to tell my parents I'm pregnant with borrowed sperm from Joannie's brother so that we can have a kid. I'm scared to death. But things have been strained on that front for years. Basically since you corrupted me," she jokingly accused. "Don't blame the lesbian—bi, whatever—thing on me!," I protested. "I wasn't that bad in bed." "No," she said. "After sleeping with a few other guys I can definitely say nobody came close to you in bed or anywhere else." I smiled at her appreciatively. "But you know what I mean," Mila said in a conspiratorial way. "Yeah, I know," I happily admitted. "Hey- this is nuts, but I have an idea. I just got back from a conference and I have tomorrow off. How about if I drive you up to the wilds of Wisconsin. You'll probably get there not too much later than if you hop this flight-- and we can talk. I'll go on to my brother's house in Minneapolis and come back tomorrow. What do you say?" "That would be amazing. Yes. Thank you." She smiled at me radiantly. "I don't have any checked bags—let's go," she said. As we headed down to catch the blue line L back to my place, I asked "And what's the word on the lawyer gig?" Mila paused longer than would be natural. "You did graduate?," I asked hesitantly. "Yeah," she said, "but I quit the profession after about a year. Still paying off that mistake every month." "So what are you doing?" "Promise not to laugh," she begged. "No," I retorted. She looked at me with a grimace. "OK, here goes—I start as an Assistant Minister next month at a Unitarian church in El Cerito." We both started laughing so hard that people walking by mostly got grins on, although some avoided us like we were on drugs. "It's your fault, Satan ex-boyfriend," she said after we regained our composure. "I guess so," I gleefully acknowledged as I gave her a hug and felt the clashing sentiments of deep loss and deep caring.