Audition Preparation

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Finally, we discussed the sex act itself. We talked about intercourse, virginity, hymens, lubrication, orgasms, both male and female, clitoris, foreplay, breasts.

"If breasts are that important, will I be OK? My breasts are pretty small."

"No, you'll be fine."

"Does that mean that girls with bigger breasts will become more stimulated, and make better partners?

"No, just the opposite. Girls with big breasts, especially if they are pretty, tend to rely on their beauty and breast size, never developing their personality or responsiveness. They just lie there. On the other hand, girls who are not so pretty or who have small breasts, tend to work harder at being a good partner. Experienced

men would generally prefer a plain girl or one with smaller breasts, because they know this girl will tend to be better in bed.”

We talked about intercourse and what leads up to it. Our discussion had been so open, that it seemed like she was treating me like 'one of the girls', freely sharing her experiences with me and gradually her questions become more personal and intimate. Her inexperience and innocence radiated from her fresh, shining, washed face.

"When I kissed you a few minutes ago, why did it make me feel so funny?" "If sex takes place with the genital organs, why do people make such a big thing about the breasts?" "You mean a man would actually want to SUCK my nipples? That sound's disgusting!" "Do people actually do that?"

Finally there was a pause in our conversation. Sari asked, "We ARE going to have sex, aren't we?"

"I hope we'll do much more than have sex. I want to make love with you."

"Isn't it the same thing?"

"I hope not! Maybe the basic physical act is the same. But making love is a communion between two people who care for each other, who love each other. It's an expression of how they feel, of feeling, love, caring. It becomes a spiritual experience as well simply a physical act. It happens when people love each other deeply."

She thought for a while. "You just made me feel safe."

I nodded.

She turned away from me and leaned against my chest. "You said that having sex - - - making love - - - started with foreplay - - - touching, feeling and petting."

Again, I nodded.

She haltingly asked, "Would you - - - put - - - your hand - - - on my - - - - breast?"

I kissed her cheek, and moved the hair behind her ear. My hand caressed her cheek, then slowly moved down between her breasts passing over her abdomen before it moved upward and gently cupped her. My other hand enclosed her other breast. She cringed as I touched her breasts, but then resolutely refused to move. If what she said was true, this may have been the first time a man had ever touched her breasts.

Her breasts were small with delicious turned up nipples. I don't think she knew what they were for. She was so innocent, it probably never occurred to her that her breasts might be used for sexual gratification. I don't know if she had ever though anything about sexual gratification before tonight.

Very gently, I rolled one nipple between my fingers and heard her gasp and moan in response. She began to squirm under my touch, and soon I moved one hand over her stomach to her lower mound. She shivered as my hand moved toward untouched and unexplored territory. I began massaging her gently, making no effort to touch her skin through the leotard or to penetrate her in any way. Simply a gentle massage that I knew would indirectly stimulate her clit.

"Mmmmmmmmm!" she moaned. "What's happening? What are you - - - doing - - - - --- - - - - - to - - - -mmmmmeee- - - - - -? Uuuhh - - - uuuhh ----- Oh! Oooohhh! - - -- - - - Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

Apparently she had never experienced a male induced orgasm before, so she had no idea how to resist it, or even if she wanted to resist it. All she could do was to react to the stimulation. Her hips were thrusting against my hand, and her woman's scent began to permeate the air. She rose to her climax very quickly, thrashing against me and clutching my hands, and finally collapsing, gasping, in my arms.

When her breathing began to return to normal, she asked again. "We ARE going to have sex, aren't we . . . . ."

Chapter 4 - Sari’s first time.

I cuddled her gently, whispering in her ear and holding her close to me as she came down from her high. She simply lay their, basking in the afterglow. I held her in my arms.

Eventually, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Afterwards, she took her turn. I took advantage of her temporary absence to go to my bedroom and straighten out the bed, pull the covers down to the foot (leaving the sheets), and take a condom and a small towel from the nightstand drawer and put them under a pillow. I also took a small container of lubricant and put it in my breast pocket, so it could warm to body temperature. Then I returned to the living room.

Sari stayed in the restroom for a long time.

When she came out, she had left her tights behind, and the crotch of her leotard had been left unsnapped. She stammered some words at me, and after some effort on my part, I realized that she was frightfully embarrassed because her tights - - - and her panties - - - had become wet. She had carefully washed herself before returning.

I folded her in my arms, and reminded her how the woman's body generates lubrication, and how it's part of the body's unconscious way of preparing for sex.

"Wet is good," I summarized. “And wetter is better!"

"When ARE going to have sex?" she asked again. Enough of talk! She wanted to get down to it!

I put my arm around her and led her toward the bedroom. "It sounds like you're ready," I teased.

“I thought I was ready when I knocked on your door tonight," she blushed, with downcast eyes. "But now I'm a lot more ready than I was then," she concluded squeezing me to her.

But her uncertainty was obvious as we entered the bedroom. I led her directly to the bed. The daylight outside was fading into evening, but with the ever present glow of Greenwich Village, the room would never be completely dark.

I could feel her beginning to tremble again as we sat on the edge of the bed.

"Do you want to continue?" I asked.

She nodded without looking at me. Then suddenly turning to me, she threw her arms around me and clutched me to her whispering, "Hold me close! Please hold me. Make me feel safe!"

I held her, and gradually we lay back on the bed and embraced each other tightly lying side-by-side.

After a long pause, she took my hand and whispered to me, "I know I am safe with you. And that you would never hurt me . . . ." she started stammering, "I mean other than the pain . . . . I mean . . ."

My kiss quieted her disorientation and she relaxed in my arms and drew my hand to her breast, pressing my palm against her. Our kiss was languid and peaceful, and at the same time very exciting. It felt as if her kiss offered a complete surrender. I let my hand drop downward, and she gasped as I touched her through her panties. Although she was obviously growing excited, she stiffened as I found the waistband and slipped my hand inside. Her thighs were tightly clenched together, but reflexively she seemed to roll her hips toward my hand.

"Are you ready for me to continue?" I asked again.

Her eyes were squinted shut, and her mouth was a tight line, but she nodded again.

I rose and lifted her hips as I slid her panties over her hips and down her legs, lifting her heels to complete their removal. I kissed my way back up her legs slowly, taking this activity as an opportunity to unbuckle and lower my pants. My kisses quickly passed over her womanhood, working upward over her quivering stomach, and pausing to worship her breasts. She shuddered as I nibbled at her nipples, and sucked a little through the leotard.

Using this distraction, I rolled on the condom and applied a liberal dose of lubricant. I tried to press my knee between her legs, but her thighs were clamped so tightly together it would take the

Jaws of Life to open them.

"Sari. It's time."

I felt her tremble. "I know," she answered. "But I'm so frightened!

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid of the unknown, of not being sure what to expect. Of putting myself into someone else's control. I'm afraid it will hurt." Tears escaped her eyes, and I heard a single sob before she continued.

"I've heard horror stories about girls feeling like they were being split in two or feeling like they were being stabbed with a knife. I know you won't hurt me any more than you have to. But I'm still terrified. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all!"

"Sari, let me help you. I'll make it as easy for you as I can," I whispered in her ear.

"Oh, please do!" she gasped back.

I sat up, kneeling on the bed, and lifted her to a kneeling position before me. Her eyes were steadfastly fixed on mine. Her refusal to drop her eyes and gaze at me was an extreme act of will on her part. I pulled her close to me until her breasts were pressing against my chest. With one hand under her bottom, I lifted her over my lap and her knees had to move to either side of my body, opening herself for me. Her arms moved around my shoulders pulling her upper body closer to me, even as she unconsciously drew her hips away from me when she felt me against her stomach.

I kissed her mouth. Our tongues touched for a moment. "You're in control now. You can lower yourself onto me as quickly or slowly as you want. If it hurts, you can lift yourself off of me anytime you wish. You control everything now.

"But, one thing, Sari. Hear me! I love you! And I want you!"

Sari, gazed at me lovingly. "Thank you for saying that!" She whispered. "And thank you for being so concerned with my fears." I felt her fear of the pain of her deflowering, but there was also a feeling of warmth and acceptance and love emanating from her.

"Are you ready?"

"Yesss!" and she appeared to be bracing herself for what was coming.

Her arms braced on my shoulders, she lifted herself upwards, using a combination of her knees and her arms braced on my shoulders for support. My hand under her bottom guided her hips closer to my body, while my other hand guided my penis to her vaginal entrance. She gasped as she felt me touch the entrance of her womanhood and her innocent doe-like eyes widened in fear. But she eased herself downward and her lips gently parted before me.

She managed a nervous little smile at me, and I nodded. Slowly, she lowered herself further downward. Still guiding my penis with my hand, I felt it began to move inside of her vagina, pushing her outer lips aside. She moaned and hesitated as the head started to slip past her inner lips. She lowered a little more and there was an intake of breath. She closed her eyes again.

"Just a little more," she whispered more to herself than to me, but she was afraid to proceed.

"Go ahead," I urged, and she took a deep breath and held it before she eased off and pushed a little further.

She settled down and soon I was fully inside of her.

"Are you all the way in?"

I nodded. "Are you OK?"

It was not what she had expected. She had heard horror stories from her girlfriends. But she had only felt a small twitch, and that may have been her own spasms.

"It doesn't hurt. It didn't hurt me at all!" A worried look crossed her face. "Does that mean - - - -"

I pulled her closer to me, whispering "Shhhhh! That means that you have just given your virginity to me and it didn't hurt you. And that's all that it means!"

"I'm still afraid," she smiled nervously. She relaxed her arms and thighs and settled firmly on me.

"Do you want me to pull out?" I asked.

"No," was her immediate response. "Just hold me, please!"

I pressed her against me and held her firmly as she pressed her face against me. I held as still as I could, but it was a little awkward in the position I was in.

"How do you feel?" I whispered into her ear.

I could envision her brows knitting in concentration. Then I felt the corners of her mouth turn up. "I feel stretched! And I feel full!"

She tentatively drew back and lifted herself upward for a few moments, before settling back down, impaling herself again on me. As she settled into place, she gave a moan that was somewhere between a sigh of contentment and a moan of worry. I remained still. She did it again, only this time she moved more. She began a slow, shallow rhythm. Her face was a mask of concentration, but I saw her eyes begin to relax and the corners of her mouth move upward with an expression of pleasure. Aside of the discomfort of the position I was maintaining, it felt great to me.

I pressed her chest against mine, and then I leaned backward, drawing her with me until we were both reclining, her on top of me.

"Now, it's my turn to take charge." And I gently rolled the two of us over so that I was on top, still inside of her. I picked up her rhythm and began thrusting in her. And after a slight hesitation, her legs wrapped around me and she began moving her hips against mine. Soon we had developed a rhythm, but I quickly climaxed. She felt my spasms and saw the contortions on my face as I came, and she held me tightly to her as I collapsed on top of her.

As my breathing returned to normal, I whispered in her ear, "Well, you've done it! Yes, you certainly have done it!"

"Done what?" Sari asked.

"You've given your virginity to me. I hope that I'm 'someone special.' But, in any case, HE won't be the one to take your virginity."

"No he won’t! I'm so much happier that it was you!"

I moved off of her and slipped under the sheet and disposed of the condom.

"Are you all right?" I asked again.

Sari thought for a moment, then nodded. "I feel a little sore, more like being stretched. But no real pain." She made no effort to move under the sheet with me.

We talked about inconsequential things and held each other. As we held each other, my hands began to caress her more intimately. Eventually, my hand made its way under her leotard to her naked breast. She made no objection, and seemed to concentrate on the new sensations she was feeling.

I lifted bottom of the leotard and after a bit of hesitation, she allowed me to pull it over her head and off of her arms. Immediately, she covered her breasts with her arms. I lay beside her and held her.

"You don't have to hide from me," I whispered.

Glancing down at her bosom, she said with a tremulous voice, "They're not very big." Looking up at me she continued, "Does that bother you?"

Playing a game with her, I pretended to ponder. "Well, let's take a look and see." I moved her hands away from her bosom leaving her tiny breasts with their small, upturned nipples exposed. I pretended to examine them.

"They're 'turn-ups', I observed.

"Turnips?" she asked, looking down at herself. "Oh! 'turn-ups'!" Her eyes met mine. "Yes, I guess they are!" She looked downwards again. Then with a smile she asked, "Do you like 'turn-ups', even though they're rather small?"

Gazing into her eyes, I whispered, "I do, if they belong to you!" and I bent down to kiss her breasts. I paused between kisses to tell her, “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life!”

I brought up a hand to support her breast as my kisses gradually covered her entire mound. She began to enjoy having a man's hand caress her naked body, and a man's mouth kissing her everywhere, and a man's lips gently sucking on her nipples.

Tentatively, she moved her hand under the sheet seeking me. I took her hand and kissed it, stopping her overtures, and asked that she wait until tomorrow before she tried to touch me or look at me. She was slightly confused, but immediately yielded to my request.

Contented, she lay back and basked in my touch. When I mounted her again, she hesitated as I entered her. Once she was satisfied that there would be no pain, she actively began to participate. Again, I came, leaving her unsatisfied, but she seemed content with the feeling of love she received and the knowledge that she had made love without discomfort.

As we basked drowsily in the afterglow, she asked if she could sleep with me tonight, and of course, I said yes.

CHAPTER 5: The morning after

When we woke up the next morning. I held her close to me. Sari was somewhat self conscious, and very reserved and rather unresponsive.

Finally, I broke the ice. I took her hand and kissed it and said, "Sari, we made love last night." Her complexion reddened at the open statement and her eyes dropped. "And I want you to know that I enjoyed it!" She looked at me. "I had a good time, and quite frankly, I love you more than I ever have."

"Really?" she questioned. "Do you think I'm a slut, just walking into here and - - - " She had trouble putting her feelings into words. "- - - and asking you to - - - to - - -"

I leaned to her and kissed her eyes. "Let's review what happened. You had a problem, something that caused you anguish and concern. You came to me and asked for help, and I helped." She dropped her eyes, flustered. Before she could organize her thoughts, I continued: "I admit, the help you needed was somewhat out of the ordinary. And it's certainly not something you find in the story of a classic ballet. But I'm your friend. You are safe with me." I knew the word 'safe' would push her buttons. Her eyes met mine again and I continued, "If you cannot come to your safe-haven to ask for any kind of help you need, what good is a friend?

"Oh, there is one more thing," I added. " 'Yes, I still respect you this morning!'" This last statement confused her. She stared at me until suddenly the memories connected and her eyes softened. She vocalized the classic question. "Will you - - -"

"- - -still respect me in the morning?" I joined and we finished the statement together, and she laughed.

After the laughter faded, she became somber and concerned again. "What must you think of me?" she asked. "I just walked into your apartment and - - - and - - - and asked you to climb into bed with me. What kind of girl does that?"

"A girl who needs very specific help. And a girl who went to the only person who she felt she could trust to talk about it."

"Yes, but asking a man to - - - to - - - I'm not even your girlfriend. We've never been romantic." Tears brimmed in her eyes and she looked away. "You've been so good to me. I always feel safe when I'm with you, and even safer when you hold me! I don't want to lose that! I don't want to lose what we have. What must you think of me? How must you feel about me?" She started sobbing.

"I love you." She paused in her sobbing, staring at me with tears running down her face.

"What?"

"I love you." I responded.

"You LOVE me?" she asked, incredulity in her voice.

"I love you!" I nodded. "I've been in love with you for months. I've spent hours thinking about you and fantasying about making love with you."

Her expression became puzzled. "You're in love with me?"

I nodded.

"But you can't be!"

"Why not?"

"You never said anything. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because the love of your life was dancing. You never gave any thought to men or romance. You were only interested in dance," I quoted her own words back to her. "I respected your feelings, and wouldn't think about interfering with your priorities.

"And besides," I could feel sadness creeping into my voice. "Sometimes it's easier to live with hope than to have to face the reality of truth."

She thought for a while. "You just made me feel safe."

I nodded.

"Even though you know I'm getting ready to go to bed with another man?" she asked in amazement.

"That makes me sad," I admitted. "I'd rather have you just for myself. But to be brutally frank, it would take a lot more than that to make me stop loving you."

barnabus
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65 Followers