Charlotte

I got a late start on losing my virginity, which was pretty much the norm growing up in my moderately conservative suburbia in the mid Sixties. In my last year and a half of high school I dated Leanne. We were the same age, though she was a year behind me at a different school because her parents had held her back for a year. I met her at a friend's party, and we hit it off.

Leanne and I dated regularly. Being teenagers, our mutual attraction and our hormones had our make-out sessions get progressively more intimate. By late in my senior year, when we were both 18, we ended most of our dates at a secluded parking spot, both of us horizontal and fully clothed in the back seat of my mother's car. Our busy mouths would lock in nonstop wet kisses while my hands reached inside her blouse to fondle her breasts. Eventually we'd slip into the missionary position, and I'd rub my erection against her crotch, separated from her pussy by three layers of cloth, until I climaxed.

Sometimes we'd skip the parking spot and instead end a date at her home. After her siblings and parents went upstairs to bed, we'd make out on her living room couch. If we felt bold enough and horny enough, Leanne would lie back on the cushions, my head would maneuver under her skirt and between her thighs, and she'd pull her underwear aside to allow me to lick and suckle her sweetness for a few minutes. Alas, she never climaxed, which was understandable given her anxiety about her parents and siblings upstairs in their bedrooms. Still, those experiences cemented my love of cunnilingus in all its glory of scent, taste, and intimacy.

Leanne and I never 'went all the way' during my high school years because of a fear of pregnancy. Early in my first year at the University, which was an hour away from home, things changed. Leanne phoned to tell me that her mother had taken her to the doctor to get her on the Pill. "She thought it was a good idea to 'regulate my period'," Leanne whispered, "We can 'do it' now, right?" Her mother was no dummy. The truth was more likely that her mother concluded that her daughter's virginity wasn't going to last much longer, and that reliable contraception was better than a teen pregnancy.

Leanne visited my campus a month later for a weekend, ostensibly to spend Saturday night with a first-year girlfriend in a womens' dorm who Leanne had known from high school. In reality Leanne spent the night in my dorm room. We didn't get much sleep. For the first time we were able to get naked together, and nature took its course.

Leanne had no hymen and no discomfort, and our lovemaking was both romantic and passionate. We began with our usual cuddling and kissing, albeit this time with both of us naked, and continued on to the same glorious licking of her pussy. This time things didn't end there. Eventually I mounted her and slid my sensitive, steel-hard shaft deep inside her soft, warm, slippery silkiness that I'd previously only explored with my fingers and tongue. The exquisite sensations were a revelation, and from that day onward I was addicted to bare skin to skin intercourse, to both the physical and emotional pleasures of it, and most especially addicted to the explosion of pleasure when I unleashed my ejaculations inside a vagina.

To our mutual regret, just as it had been earlier when I was only able to go down on Leanne, and despite my best novice efforts with my fingers, mouth, and cock, she still wasn't able to climax, though I certainly did. Three times that first night. "I feel you leaking out of me," she told me at early the next morning after we snuck out of the dorm and walked to a nearby coffee shop.

Leanne and I had moved to a new stage in our relationship. We did our best to get together throughout the remainder of the school year. At winter break one of our "dates" consisted of us driving from home back to my almost deserted campus, and there we got naked and juicy in my dorm room. On one visit home in early Spring, we returned to our parking spot and managed a quickie in the back seat, this time with her skirt pulled up above her waist and her underwear pulled down around one ankle, thrusting my cock deep into her snug, wet velvet until I blasted my hot streams.

Over the summer months between my first and second year, I lived at home and worked at a fulltime job, and Leanne and I found only a handful of opportunities with sufficient privacy to do the deed. Sadly, things came to an end in August, just before I headed back to the University and Leanne would soon depart 1,000 miles east to attend college. We agreed that a long-distance relationship wasn't going to work. It was time for both of us to date other people.

And so I began my second year with fond memories of Leanne -- her spirited personality and, yes, her body, and how much I enjoyed foreplay and intercourse. Now I was on the lookout for who might come next into my life. I had moved out of the dorm and into a 4-person 2-bedroom apartment with three friends I'd met at the first year dorm. Sharing an apartment bedroom wasn't much different than sharing a dorm room in terms of having to negotiate with your roommate for private time, though it still held the promise of being more convenient than the dorm for entertaining members of the opposite sex.

I ran into Charlotte while we were both waiting in line to sign up for the Fall semester classes. She was a familiar face from my high school, though back then we were just friends and never dated. As second year students, we were both unattached and just seemed to gravitate together. Charlotte was shorter than Leanne -- about 5'2 -- and carried just a bit of lingering Freshman Fifteen. She had long, thick, brown hair that descended to her lower back, and she combined that with twinkling blue eyes, a steady smile, curvy hips, and breasts that were bigger than baseballs and smaller than softballs.

We began to see a lot of each other. Charlotte lived in a dorm in another section of the larger campus, and I would escort her home riding together on the University shuttle bus. Before long we were making out on the fifteen minute bus ride, and that soon evolved to making out on my apartment couch. The first time my hand wandered to cup a breast, Charlotte grabbed my wrist. "No, don't. I can't."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"It's just..." she paused. "My mother told me I should be a virgin on my wedding night."

"Okay," I told her, kissing her neck. "I was only trying to be affectionate."

"I just need you to know," Charlotte managed to murmur before she groaned and squirmed from what my mouth was doing to her neck, and we slipped lower onto the couch and resumed our embraces and nuzzling kisses.

Okay, yes, I was nineteen and male and horny. After that I didn't aggressively paw Charlotte. I tried to avoid being obnoxious about where my hands might wander. I did, however, occasionally test her boundaries during our frequent steamy, mutually breathy and heart pounding encounters. My patient seduction across the next several weeks was rewarded by Charlotte's gradual, ever so gradual surrenders.

Often it was one or two steps forward and one step backwards, though eventually she allowed my hands to fondle her breasts through her blouse, then later to reach inside her blouse and fondle her breasts and stiff nipples through her bra, and a week or two after that to unhook her bra and stroke her smooth skin.

My stroking with my hands and fingers progressed to my mouth nuzzling her breasts, and eventually, more often than not, we found ourselves on her dorm bed or on my apartment bed, both of us topless, where Charlotte allowed my hands and mouth to wander freely. And not too long after that, she granted my hands and eventually my mouth access to her sweet, aroused, glorious pussy.

From that day on, the norm was for us to be naked in bed together. Charlotte rarely touched me below the waist, though I didn't care because I thoroughly enjoyed kissing her entire body, fondling and nuzzling her breasts and nipples and butt and vulva, swiping my tongue up and down the length of her fragrant, flowing cleft, swirling circles around her stiff clitoris that summoned my attention, and rejoicing in her moans and breathy pants and squirming body.

I marveled at the differences between Charlotte's body and Leanne's. Charlotte was more petite in stature, more soft and cuddly, and to me she seemed more feminine. Her breasts were larger, and her pussy... oh my, her pussy. Her pubic hair was a wispy 'dirty blonde' patch framing a mound that was more pronounced than Leanne's. Her unaroused inner labia and clitoris were also slightly larger, and when Charlotte's arousal climbed upward, those modest inner lips plumped thick and crimson and smiled her vulva wide open to exposing her winking vagina and a clitoral shaft that hardened into a twig with its pink head emerging to welcome my tongue.

Just like Leann, Charlotte never climaxed. I concluded that was due to a similar combination of her anxiety, plus guilt, mixed with my own still novice lovemaking techniques. Still, she joyfully spread her legs for my mouth and my fingers, and she gave me every indication that she was thoroughly happy with what we were doing. Like Leann, my fingers detected no hymen when I curled two inside her snug vagina while my tongue swabbed her pussylips and clitoris until she was wonderfully dripping onto the bedsheet.

Soon it seemed natural to lay on my back and have Charlotte straddle me and rub her juicy, inflamed vulva against my shaft while I cupped her beautiful breasts and gently tweaked her nipples. Though her favorite, and mine, was for her to lay on her back, splay her legs wide and hook her ankles on my upper hamstrings, and welcome me to mount her missionary style -- much as I'd done in the early high school days with Leann. Although unlike those high school days, now with Charlotte we were both very naked.

When I was on top of her, I stroked the bottom side of bare erection up and down in the slickness between Charlotte's puffy aroused labia, riding her lubricated valley and grazing against her very erect clitoris. Her arms and legs wrapped around me. Her face would flush, sweat would form on her forehead, her hair would spread across the pillow beneath her head. She would breathe moans and whimpers and lick her lips. All the while I would stroke against her vulva and whisper how beautiful she looked and how much her body turned me on.

Our faux 'outercourse' would continue like this until the last possible moment, an instant before I climaxed, when I'd move my body higher, press my cock against her tummy, and spurt streams of liquid white fire as Charlotte tightened the grip of her arms and ankles to hold me close, smiling at my pleasure. When I finished I'd lean forward and our mouths would reengage in a long, wet kiss. "Was that good?" she would whisper, and I would always praise her body. "I love that I can please you," she'd tell me. She never complained about my semen coating her tummy and mine.

When I suggested to Charlotte that she go to the University health clinic to get a prescription for the Pill, just as so many other co-eds were doing in those days, her response was a firm no. "It would be like we were planning to have sex. I told you that I want to be a virgin when I get married." Despite all the intimacies she had already granted me -- and granted herself -- she repeated her assertion of her ultimate boundary.

However, Charlotte did understand the risk of having my naked penis stroke so closely to her vagina and jet my profuse ejaculations a mere few inches farther above, and she decided on her own to go to a pharmacy and buy contraceptive foam to guard against whatever sperm might find their way inside her. Apparently foam was acceptable to her, even if the much more reliable Pill or somewhat less reliable condoms were not.

Still, I didn't question things. I didn't want our intimacies to stop. I accepted the frustration that I wasn't going to have the same uninhibited full sexual relationship with Charlotte that I'd enjoyed with Leanne.

Charlotte never again mentioned her avowed intention to be a virgin on her wedding night, even as time went on. Eventually I tested her boundaries yet again by having my outercourse stroking cockhead briefly pause at her vaginal entrance. Those occasional pauses evolved to increasingly lingering visits, and then to slight, ever so slight nudges of not-quite penetrations inside. I was subtly asking her how far I could go, and still Charlotte expressed no objections.

After a couple of weeks these teasing nudges became actual penetrations of my glans popping through the snug muscle ring at her entrance and remaining just barely inside for a second or two before retreating and resuming steady strokes in the slick, puffy valley between her labia. As always, at the last possible moment I'd finish by ejaculating on her tummy near her bellybutton, never close to her vagina, with nary a complaint from Charlotte.

I continued to be incredibly frustrated. Still nineteen and horny, I decided to keep testing Charlotte's boundaries. One afternoon, a week before the Christmas break, we were again naked in bed together. We began our patterned kissing and nuzzling and caresses, followed by my mouth getting her pussy thoroughly aroused. Then, as was our custom, we paused while she squirted in the contraceptive foam in preparation for our outercourse. I mounted her and began the same-old same-old.

Except now it was a few days before Charlotte's period was scheduled to begin, and my cockhead penetrations were now more frequent. She had her legs spread wide and her knees bent and her ankles tucked just below my ass. Her juices were flowing. Her breaths were quick, shallow, and mixed with excited little grunts and moans.

And then it happened. My now familiar brief half-inch penetrations became one inch, then two, then three. Her vagina was deliciously slick and hot. The thin muscle ring at her entrance clearly advertised the depth of each of my invasions. Her sheath felt like smooth velvet, snugly wrapping around my hypersensitive flesh.

I needed more. More of her. More of her body, more of her vagina. Her moans became breathy gasps. Primal instincts and lust overcame inhibitions, and now I pushed ever deeper with each inward stroke, remaining motionless after each for several seconds before withdrawing and returning to the outercourse. Eventually on one penetration my cock bottomed out in her heavenly snug embrace, holding myself buried there for several seconds. Charlotte's eyes remained closed. She was panting, her face flushed.

I felt my orgasm building deep in my groin, and it took all my willpower to withdraw and, as always, press my erection against her soft belly and spurt what felt like massive pulses of my juices between us. All the while Charlotte lay beneath me, breathing heavily, her arms embracing me tightly, and she opened her eyes to watch my face.

"Wow," I gasped. Charlotte's fingers glided up and down my back, which was now covered with my own sheen of sweat. We were both silent, absorbing what had just happened. I rolled off to lay beside her, and Charlotte rolled to on her side to face me. We held each other and kissed.

"Wow," Charlotte replied. "That felt... different."

Well," I said, "I guess you're not a virgin anymore."

Charlotte looked at me for a moment before speaking, looking puzzled and searching for words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... I was inside you. All the way up inside you. You seemed okay with that."

After another long pause, she cleared her throat and replied, "I still consider myself to be a virgin."

"You do? Why? How?"

"Because you didn't come inside me. You've never come inside me. That means I'm still a virgin."

I had never considered that definition of "virginity". Charlotte seemed serious. After months of my patient seduction, with Charlotte granting me one incremental surrender after another, in my mind she had finally granted her final surrender. She had allowed my cock to invade her fully, to feel her entire vagina on several deep penetrations, not to mention all the other partial penetrations.

And yet here I was, enjoying thoughts of our future lovemaking sessions, of getting beyond the tantalizing teasing of those half-inch and one-inch and the are-we-or-aren't-we penetrations. Now Charlotte was still insisting that she hadn't gone all the way and hadn't really had sex with me. It was as though my penis hadn't really been inside her body or hadn't been either deep enough or long enough or significantly enough for it to count as her acceptance of us as a sexual couple.

I was frustrated. I gave no verbal response to Charlotte. What could I say? Our kisses resumed for our customary second round and grew with a gradually increasing passion. My hands wandered across her body, with gentle caresses of her face, her breasts, her back and her butt. I reached behind her and teased at her opening, still slick with her lubrication. My semen was still smeared across her belly. I felt we were finally making love.

And when she rolled onto her back and once again spread her legs wide, I mounted her, and she embraced me as she always did with arms and legs. I was hard again. Hard and eager and frustrated. I nibbled at one hard nipple, then the other, and Charlotte's "Ahhh" got me harder. My cock found again the slickness and heat of her vulva. At first I stirred us together in our usual outercourse, reacquainting my steel-hard shaft with her creamy valley.

And then I was inside her with no ambiguity. No teasing. With three or four gradual, deliberate strokes I was again buried to the hilt, this time unmistakably present and rooting in her vagina. I want you to feel my cock, I thought, though did not verbalize. I want you to feel how much you excite me.

I began to stroke, in and out, lazily in and out. On the outstrokes my cockhead remained just barely inside this time, and on each instroke I buried myself again, pressing firmly against her aroused vulva, holding myself there a moment until I retreated. I wanted her to feel my erection, to feel me, to accept me, accept us, accept what we were doing. No pretending. No equivocation. No subtlety. I wanted to make love to her and wanted her to feel loved and appreciated. And to feel fucked.

Charlotte spoke first, looking up at me, whispering "I know what you're doing." She reached a hand down to her pussy, capturing the sides of my shaft between her forefinger and middle finger as I kept stroking in and out, always in and out. Her legs remained spread apart. Her vagina was immensely exciting. I carried my upper body weight on my elbows. Her wonderful breasts wobbled in that familiar primal dance.

"Yes. I want us to share this," I told her.

Charlotte's eyes were opened wide, studying my face. "I feel you," she whispered. Her mouth was pursed in an 'O' and breathing quick, shallow pants, and she gasped little moans of pleasure. Her arms and her legs continued to embrace me. She slid her ankles from behind my legs and bent her knees, now holding her knees loosely beside my hip bones, while her hips rocked upward in sync with my instrokes. My brain was a swirling mess, focused on the woman beneath me, focused on her responses and my accelerating arousal, intensely aware of her body and the siren call of her vagina.

This time I didn't restrain my climax. I welcomed it. I believed we were protected by the contraceptive foam and by where she was in her like-clockwork menstrual cycle. In and out, in and out, I my climax built in my groin. When I could hold back no longer, I dug my knees into the mattress, muscled my shaft as deep as I could get it, now tilting her hips higher to take more of my shaft. And then I exploded. Charlotte squealed a high pitched primal noise as I jammed my cock deep, spewing jet after jet of my semen into the farthest reaches of her vagina. Charlotte kept panting. Her eyes kept glued to mine.

When my pulses weakened and diminished into erratic twitches, my erection softened and eventually slipped out. I remained poised above her body for another minute, my heart still pounding. Charlotte's eyelids slowly descended. She looked lost in thought. I laid down next to her on the bed, gently cupping a breast, and kissed her on her neck. Charlotte, still on her back, turned her head to look at me. "You know what this means," she said.

I wasn't sure. Was she finally going to get on the Pill? That really was the only truly safe thing to do. "What?" I responded.

"This means we're engaged."

"We are?"

"I think it's almost like waiting for my wedding night if I lose my virginity to my fiancé. I'm going to call my parents tomorrow and tell them we're engaged." I was stunned.

My hand wandered between her legs and felt my semen oozing out of her vagina and dripping down to the bedsheet. "Maybe hold off for a few days for that," I said. "We need to talk more."

"I guess," she replied. "Okay."

"You felt amazing," I told her.

Charlotte bit down on her lower lip. She paused a moment, then said, "I felt you come, I think. Then I got all goopy inside."

We laid there silently for another couple of minutes before Charlotte excused herself to go to the bathroom. When she returned to the bedroom, she dressed silently. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. "I've got a class," she said, "I need to get going." Then she left the bedroom. A moment later I heard the apartment door open and close.

I called her later in the day, and she didn't pick up. We spoke on the phone the following day. Charlotte told me she was too busy to get together. Then the day after that she phoned and uttered the dreaded phrase, "We need to talk."

"Face to face? Where do you want to meet?" I asked.

"Let's just talk on the phone right now," she replied.

"I'm listening."

Charlotte took a deep breath. "I've decided I can't keep doing what we're doing. In bed, I mean."

"You mean no more being inside you?"

"That's right. And no more of all the rest of it. No more getting naked. It just makes me feel like a slut. It makes me feel guilty."

"Charlotte, you aren't a slut. You're a beautiful woman in an adult relationship."

She continued, "I've decided that we need to either get married right away, or we need to stop having sex until we do get married after we graduate."

"Charlotte, I'm not ready to get married. And I don't want to stop doing what we've been doing. We don't graduate for two and a half more years."

Her response was short and simple. "Then you need to think about what I've said and make your decision. Because I've decided to stop." I was silent for a moment, and she hung up the phone.

I thought about Charlotte's ultimatum. We met in the library a couple of days later and talked more, and she repeated her earlier demand. I apologized for misjudging her acceptance of our sexplay and repeated my desire to continue to strengthen our relationship. She refused. It became clear that we were at a deadlock.

To make a long story short, we didn't get married, either immediately or after graduation. We stopped seeing each other.

A mutual friend told me a few months later that Charlotte was dating a medical student. Four years later another friend told me that Charlotte and that same boyfriend had married the summer after they both graduated. The friend also told me that Charlotte had given birth to a girl about five months after the wedding, and that she was pregnant again. I'm guessing she never did get a prescription for the Pill. I'm happy for her.