True story about losing my virginity

Staying a virgin through high school was a serious challenge.
Everyone knew that there were girls who *did* and girls who *didn’t*.
The most important status-enhancing activity for the male population
of the high school was to move girls from the second category into the

I didn’t really date very much, but the guys I dated worked very hard
at trying to convince me that I wanted to have sex with them. This
was accomplished through both verbal and physical tactics. The verbal
consisted of discussions and occasionally begging and pleading. The
physical consisted of attempts to get me “swept away” by the passion
of the moment. I never gave in during any of these encounters, even
though I did want to a few times. Of course I knew that I wouldn’t
stay a virgin forever, but I was choosing my moment very, very


I started dating “the one” when we were both in our first year of
college. We were enrolled in an introductory biology course that was
held in a huge lecture hall. A mutual acquaintance introduced us one
day before class. As a result, we ended up sitting beside one another
for the lecture that day and on several consecutive days after.

Mark and I eventually began talking to each other before class about
various things. Mark was 6’2″ tall and fashionably thin. His eyes
were steel grey, and surrounded by very long, very dark eyelashes.
Mark also had a great smile. I found him extremely attractive.

The topic of discussion in Biology the week after we met was human
reproduction. Mark and I were sitting beside one another again. I
was rather uncomfortable as the professor attempted to prove that he
was “cool enough” to discuss sex in front of 800 students. As his
lecture got more and more explicit, I found myself blushing when Mark
would glance at me. I’m sure he realized that I liked him.

The final day of this topic, the instructor showed a video that
graphically depicted childbirth. As we all sat rather amazed by the
brazen video, Mark whispered to me, “Now that is really incredible to

I turned to him in surprise. “You’ve seen a delivery live?”

“Actually, I’ve delivered a baby personally.”


“Well, I’m an EMT. I used to work for Metro ambulance service. On
occasion ambulances transport women in labor who don’t make it to the
hospital in time. I actually delivered a baby once while we were en
route to the hospital. It was incredible.”

“Wow.” I was extremely impressed. “It sounds really amazing.”

“Yea, it was pretty awe-inspiring.” He smiled as the bell rang and we
all left the class. “See you tomorrow!”

The next day was Friday. Before class, Mark approached me and asked
if I wanted to rent a movie with him that evening. Apparently my
bit of flirting during lecture was paying off. I agreed that it
sounded like fun, and gave him directions to my parents’ house. I
also offered to get the movie, so we discussed movie choice for a few

We continued our discussion of movies during the lecture, childishly
passing notes back and forth. I really couldn’t concentrate on the
class at all. Mark was sitting right next to me as usual, and his arm
would occasionally brush mine. His long legs were always a problem
for him, and he rearranged them often. Periodically, one of them
would brush one of my primly crossed legs.

We finally agreed on a few movies I should look for, and a time for
him to arrive. Biology was my last class of the day, so I rushed
straight to the video store after class. I picked three different
movies, wanting to be sure I would get one he wanted to see. After
going home, I just picked at my dinner, too excited about the upcoming
date to really eat.

Mark was incredibly polite when he met my parents. Afterwards, they
discreetly disappeared into the back of the house so that he and I
could watch our films in the living room with a little privacy. We
made the usual first date small talk.

Halfway through the first movie, his hand started moving towards mine.
I had already positioned myself so that he could easily put his arm
around me, hold my hand, or even kiss me. I was definitely sending
him signals of encouragement. His fingers inched closer and closer to
mine. Eventually, he reached my hand and began softly rubbing his
fingertips across the back of my hand. The light, teasing sensation
distracted me from the film, and I missed most of the rest of the
movie while I concentrated on the sensuous contact.

We had a short intermission between the first and second movie.
During this time, I told him very bluntly that I really enjoyed
spending time with him and was having a great time. This earned me a
slow, romantic kiss. “I like you too, Renae. This has been a great

As we continued to make out on the couch, his hands began roaming my
upper body. His right hand traveled upward underneath the front of my
shirt without touching me at all. He then placed his fingertip at the
base of my throat, and dragged it directly down the front of my body,
between my breasts, and without even touching them. This immediately
gave me chills, and I shuddered visibly.

“Oh, did you like?” he asked, noticing my reaction.

“Um, yes, actually. That was really erotic. But not too forward.”
Mark remembered my reaction to that gesture, and repeated it many
times throughout our relationship. It never failed to shock me with
it’s nearly innocent yet very sexy quality.

Our conversations that evening eventually got personal. I told him
that I was a virgin and planned to stay one. I was very explicit
about it. He then told me that he definitely wasn’t looking for a
“sexual” relationship. He explained that he’d had lots of sex with
his last girlfriend, and didn’t really think sex was *necessary* for a
relationship. I’d never been around a man with this attitude, so I
was both surprised and even more attracted to him. A man who wasn’t
going to pressure me about sex? Heaven sent! Or, maybe too good to
be true?


We began dating regularly. We spent all of our free time together,
especially on weekends and at school between classes during the week.
Neither of us was dating anyone else, and we eventually became
recognized as a “couple”.

One day when we were both going to class but heading in opposite
directions, our paths crossed. Mark grabbed me around the waist,
picked me up, and twirled me around in a circle as he kissed me
passionately. It was light and joyful, and I realized at that moment
that I probably loved him.

We were invited to a party in December. At the party, a Scorpions
album was playing loudly. Although I was not aware of it at the time,
the music of the Scorpions was going to become an important part of my
life in the next year.

Mark and I were sitting on a chair, with me literally on his lap. His
arms were wrapped around me possessively, and he would occasionally
place a soft kiss on my cheek or forehead. We eventually danced to a
slower tune, and I remember feeling his firm erection as he held me
close to him.

That night, when he took me home, we began kissing while sitting on
the couch. Eventually, I noticed that we were laying down on the
couch instead of sitting on it. I boldly parted my legs so that he
could grind his erection suggestively against my hips. This dry
fucking motion resulted in him actually having an orgasm. He was
incredibly embarrassed, and left immediately afterwards.

At Christmas, my mother took a photo of us laughing and kissing in
front of the fireplace. By then I had admitted the depth of my
feelings to Mark, and he had told me he loved me in return.

By January, Mark’s promise to keep things sexually cool and
unpressured had been broken. I was standing my ground, but allowing
him to gain by slow inches.

One afternoon, Mark was referring to the typical thorough examination
that an EMT gives to a patient, and told me that there was “no way” I
could handle having it done to me. “You just couldn’t take it. It
involves touching *every* part of the person’s body.”

This was clearly a challenge. “Of course I could handle it!”

“Really, you would be uncomfortable. Just forget it.”

“How bad could it be? I think you should try it on me and see if I
can take it.”

“Well, OK, but you’ve got to lie down.” I laid down on the bed, and
tried to concentrate on not flinching when he started touching me
everywhere. Mark was telling the truth when he described the exam as
involving the entire body. His hands traveled quickly across my body,
but paused briefly as they crossed my breasts and touched the juncture
between my legs. “This is where your femoral pulse is,” he explained,
pressing his fingers on my upper upper thigh, very near the top right
point of my triangle of pubic hair.

Although I did survive the exam without asking him to stop, there were
several moments when he was touching me in places that I normally did
not allow him to touch me. It was scary and exciting for me.

“OK, you did it. I’m impressed.” He leaned over me and began kissing
me. “Hey, I should give you mouth-to-mouth.”

“You already are!”

“No, *really* give you mouth-to-mouth. Show you how it’s done. It’s
a very weird sensation if you’ve never felt it.” He was testing my
trust again.

“Sounds interesting, I guess.” I was a little reluctant.

“Just one breath so you can see how it feels,” he coaxed.

“OK.” Mark leaned his body over me and placed his left hand behind my
neck. “To give artificial respiration, you have to angle the head so
that the airway is as open as possible. Then, for an adult or older
c***d, you pinch the nose so that the air doesn’t escape. Finally,
you make an airtight seal with the mouth. In infants, you actually
cover both the nose and mouth with your mouth, and you have to give
very shallow breaths to them because their lungs are so small.” He
then tilted my head back and began reaching his hand towards my face.
I suddenly realized what a vulnerable position I was putting myself

I must have stiffened, because he whispered, “It’s OK, just relax.
Just one breath then I’ll release you. But you have to relax.” I
stared at his eyes as he focused them on my mouth. His right hand
reached out to pinch my nostrils closed, and he quickly moved his
mouth in and formed an airtight seal between our lips. I jumped when
he emptied his lungs partially into mine. It was a bizarre sensation.

He immediately released me and smiled. “Wild, huh?”

I giggled a little. “Very strange!”

“One more time?” I agreed that he could do it one more time, and this
time he actually flicked his tongue into my mouth for a moment before
releasing me.

“That was extremely unprofessional!” I teased.

“I just couldn’t resist!” He smiled sweetly at me.

For Valentine’s day, I bought him a gold ring to fit his left pinky.
I gave him the ring one evening when we were out for a romantic
dinner. He slipped the wedding-like band onto his hand and said very
seriously, “You missed.” I knew he was referring to his left ring

“I won’t miss next time,” I promised.


The pressure was on for me to put out. He had actually started using
the line, “Just once. Just for a second! *Please*, just let me put
it in for a second and I’ll take it right back out. I promise.”

“No!” I pushed him off of me and rolled away.

“Remind me why you’re waiting,” he insisted, teeth clenched.

“I just don’t feel like I’m ready yet. Sex is a huge commitment! Sex
involves lots of responsibilities. I don’t want to get pregnant.”

“Yes, but we love each other, Renae. We would be very careful with
contraception. You know that. Do you think it’s wrong to have sex
when you love each other?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Are you saving yourself for marriage?”

“No, I just don’t feel ready yet.”

So, the struggle continued. In the mean time, there were other things
going on between us. One evening, I finally allowed him to take my
pants off and to perform oral sex on me. This was a delicious
experience for me, but I was extremely engrossed with the efforts of
not letting things go “too far,” and I never allowed myself to really
relax and simply enjoy the experience.

I told Mark that I didn’t plan to ever perform oral sex on a man
because, “I just don’t think physically I can do it. It’s not that I
think it’s gross or that I’m scared,” I was definitely lying on the
second part, “it’s just that my jaw is just too small! How could I
get that thing into my mouth? Seriously!”

Mark was very nice about this, stating that it was OK if I didn’t want
to. However, he explained very bluntly that a woman didn’t have to
put very much of the organ into her mouth for the man to enjoy it.
“You can even just lick it. And if you did put part of it into your
mouth, I wouldn’t actually come in your mouth. I would warn you

One evening, I finally got up the nerve to try it. There was a dish
of hard candy sitting on the table beside us, and I popped a pineapple
flavored candy into my mouth. I then reached one hand into his pants,
and used the other hand to lower his zipper.

“Why don’t you pull your pants down a little?” I suggested.

He eagerly and quickly took this advice. I pulled the hard candy out
of my mouth, leaving it very wet with my saliva. I then ran the candy
across the top side of his dick, leaving a trail of slightly sticky
and sweet liquid. He gasped very loudly when I reached out my tongue
to lick the candied saliva off of him.

I continued on like this, moving on to other parts of his dick, and
eventually taking the first inch or so into my mouth. I sucked
tentatively, completely unsure of whether I was doing it the “right”
way or not. I remembered him telling me that a girl had hurt him once
with her teeth, so I was trying to be very careful.

Mark came in a very short time, and warned me beforehand as he had
promised to. After it was over, I immediately dissolved into
hysterics, incredulous that I had actually done such a thing.

“Renae, why are you laughing?” He was smiling, but puzzled.

“Because! I just can’t believe I actually did that!” I continued to
chuckle. “Hey, that was kind of fun!”

“Well, I’m glad you think so. *I* certainly had fun!”

So, Mark was getting at least part of what he wanted.


On Mother’s day of that year, I mentioned to my Mom that, “I thought
maybe, possibly, it just might be about time for me to, uh, well, go
to a gynecologist, and, uh, maybe, um, go on The Pill or something.
You always told me that I should do that eventually, and I guess I’m
getting to that age where I really do need to have my first exam and
all that.”

I was very embarrassed, but Mom was nice about it. She had been
telling me for years that my older cousin got pregnant in college
because her mother had been “stupid” enough to send her to college
without getting her birth control. Mom was a big advocate of college
age girls taking oral contraceptives, “Just in case. You should only
have sex with someone you really love, though.”

At the time of our discussion, she said, “Yes, I think that sounds
like a good idea. Why don’t you call the gynecologist’s office next
week and make an appointment for yourself. It’s good to be careful.”
This was her way of saying that she didn’t really want me to have sex,
but her desire to keep me from getting pregnant outweighed her belief
that I might stay celibate forever.

I made the huge mistake of revealing this conversation to Mark. He
interpreted this as a “green light” for sex. I hadn’t really even
decided for sure when I was going to agree to it. However, the next
weekend, my parents were out of town. Mark and I planned for him to
come stay with me while they were gone so that I “wouldn’t get too

Mark showed up with his overnight bag and a box of condoms. He showed
me the condoms after he had been there about 5 minutes, and I was
shocked. “Well, I’m not assuming anything,” which he was, “but I
thought we should have them around just in case.” Of course, our
*lack* of available birth control had stopped us at the crucial moment
on several prior occasions, so I knew this was a dangerous situation.

Not surprisingly, things got out of control that very night. I lost
my virginity in a painful, but sweet and romantic fashion on my
waterbed. “Do you want to help me put this on?” He was referring to
the condom.

“Um, OK.” I helped him with it, then laid down terrified on my back
with my legs barely open. The first thing I felt was his knee
slipping between them. He then used his right leg to move my left
knee out further. After repeating this for the other leg, he lowered
his hips towards mine so that I could feel the very tip of his cock
against my opening. “OK, sweetie, this is going to hurt some. I’m
really sorry. I love you.”

Mark had “warmed me up” with his tongue, so I was at least a little
wet. This combined with the lubrication on the condom to make things
sufficiently slippery for him to begin entering me. Mark moved very
slowly at first, going in a fraction of an inch, then back out. With
each stroke, he moved a bit further. My eyes were closed, and I was
concentrating on not saying something very unromantic like “OUCH!” or
“Get that thing out of me!”

Finally he decided that I was ready for one quick thrust to finish
his journey. I know I grimaced and gasped from the stinging pain. He
paused and leaned down to kiss me. After several more thrusts, he
smiled and whispered, “Guess what, honey? I’m gonna come.”

“Great, super,” I whispered weakly, mentally adding “thank God.” The
movement of his dick as he spasmed added more pain, but I was happy
because it was over and I knew the next time would be easier.

Afterwards, he held me in his arms gently as I suddenly began sobbing.
“Shhh, it’s OK. Oh, honey, I’m sorry I had to hurt you.”

“No,” I insisted, “that’s not why I’m crying.”

“Oh. OK. I know this was a big moment for you. Hey, it’s OK.” Then
after another minute, “Are you thirsty? Can I bring you a
‘stroggleberry’ soda?” This was a private joke between us, a silly
name we had for my favorite strawberry soda.

“Yea, that would be great. Thanks.”

Later on that evening, I asked him when we were going to try it once
more. He was surprised that I wanted to do it again, since it had
been so uncomfortable, but I reasonably pointed out that it would
never get better for me until we had done it a few times, so we used
all three condoms from the original package that very night.


It was hard for us to find places to be alone. We both had one parent
that worked at home and we both still lived at home also. Privacy was
hard to come by. Eventually Mark’s best friend Ingmar (who worked
during the day) offered to give us a key to his apartment so we could
go there to be alone.

The next fall, Mark moved into an apartment with another guy. It was
actually a one bedroom townhouse that they basically converted into
two bedrooms and one shared bath and kitchen.

For privacy, Mark always put loud music on when I was over. His
favorite music for fucking was either Def Leppard or the Scorpions.
Mark liked a strong beat playing as he pounded me. I now realize that
almost all of the songs on those albums we played were really about
sex. Lyrics like “I’m hot, sticky sweet,” “and I want, and I need,
and I love, animal,” “you give me all I need,” “no one like you,” and
“let us find together the beat we’re looking for – the rhythm of
love,” et cetera, filled my mind as we explored new positions and
discovered some of the wonders of sex together.

I really got tired of those album choices, and occasionally longed for
something romantic like Mozart or even a Madonna ballad. What
surprised me, though, was that the music stayed with me in an arousing
way after the relationship eventually ended. Even today I get a
little bit wet when I hear any of those songs that Mark and I used to
fuck to.