Cult of Purity

You asked, so here goes: I'm going to tell you about how I lost my virginity. Or how I traded it, I guess—losing something implies that it happened without your knowledge. This was definitely a conscious decision.

I was a pretty boring schoolgirl, I guess. Read a lot, talked with my teachers, had a couple friends. Only dated one guy, and only in senior year, and that didn't last long: he whipped it out on our second date, I slapped him, and that was it.

Not that I didn't like boys, or anything like that. I just never seemed to have the time. Always something more interesting to do: a new release from a favorite author, a friend having one of those low-key, ten-person parties, that sort of thing.

Like I said. Boring. But it suited me just fine.

So high school went by, and I went to the local university branch, and it was really just more of the same. Classes were harder, and that meant more time in the library, and I had no complaints at all about that. I was still living at home, so there was never any reason to hang around on campus when the nightlife picked up. Not a single dance, not one sweaty beer-filled party.

And still no dating. I knew a lot of the students already, and I'd already not dated them in high school; no reason to break that trend. Most of the new ones were assholes, or seemed that way to me. I was there for an education, not to get wasted and bang frat boys in a disgusting dorm bathroom. And I get that a lot of people were trying new things, expanding horizons and whatnot, and that was fine with me—I just wanted no part of it.

Got labeled frigid. It's a good word. Accurate, in my face. Cold shoulders and icy stares were my favorite ways to deflect a pick-up line or shut down a catcall. Funny thing, though: when you set a precedent, people are gonna try harder to get you to break it. Kind of like going to a bar with friends and saying you don't drink. Suddenly you've got plenty of booze in front of you, whether you wanted it or not.

So lots of guys saw me as a challenge. And I kept turning them down.

Which isn't to say that I was totally uninterested. Plenty of nights found me curled up under the covers, fingers digging down into myself, vibrator set to maximum, head full of things I'd never experienced with guys I'd never spoken to. And I was an RA for a semester, in charge of a floor of first-year students, and I had a private bathroom—with a lock on the door, and a detachable showerhead. So I wasn't exactly chaste. Easy to retreat into fantasy when you've got no experience with reality.

All that is buildup to the end of senior year. We had a week between the last exams and when we actually graduated; I'd worked hard for my degrees, and I was looking forward to relaxing as much as anyone. Although I doubt that most of the other folks were planning on reading under a tree for six hours a day, which was basically my greatest ambition.

Didn't quite work out that way. The night I finished my last final, maybe nine-thirty or so, I did my usual post-test stress relief running, except this time I treated myself and ran across campus instead of hitting the treadmills at the gym. Sure, you get the jerks staring at you, but the fresh air's a nice change, especially after spending three hours locked in a room analyzing modern British poetry.

So I was headed back to my dorm to shower when I noticed it. Right down the path from my building is a little greenhouse; ecology and environmental science majors used it for some of their observations and stuff, I guess. Not my field, though, and I always just assumed they were secretly growing weed.

But the weird thing was that there was a light on inside, and it looked like it was coming up from the floor. And when I got close enough to actually see through the glass, I could tell it was from a trapdoor. I hadn't even known the building had a basement, let alone a hidden one.

Well, what would you have done? I had nowhere to be, and it's not every day you learn something new about the place you've been living for four years. The door was unlocked—and that was weird, too, because they're usually pretty good about locking things up at night—and I didn't see anybody around, so I went right in.

Trespassing? Oh, come on. What were they going to do? Revoke my degree and kick me out a week before I graduated just because I poked my head in a service area? The absolute worst thing that'd happen, I figured, would be some plumber grumbling at me, and then maybe somebody from campus safety would send me an email saying something about liability issues.

So no. I wasn't worried at all. Literally a hundred feet from my dorm, plenty of lights, and a chance to see something new, even if it'd probably just be a bunch of junk.

Went down the rickety stairs, which were probably way too small to pass a fire inspection, and ended up in a long, narrow hallway. Lots of pipes in the ceiling, lots of wiring along the walls. A couple shelves with old, rusted-out pieces of metal on them. Nothing too interesting there, although the bare lightbulb gave a pretty cool horror-movie look to it.

But down at the end of the hall there was more light, and I could hear people talking, or chanting, or singing maybe. I remember thinking it was a really weird place to have choir rehearsals.

I tried to be quiet; didn't take much effort, as there was a constant hum from somewhere, plus running shoes aren't all that noticeable when you're walking in them. Got closer and closer to the end of the hall, and eventually I got to where I could sort of see inside.

It was pretty weird. Eight guys, or at least I assumed they were guys based on proportion and such, in robes, standing in a circle around some sort of cloth-covered thing. Seven of them were wearing yellow, and one had on white; all of them had masks, too. They were those weird tragedy masks, the ones you see in theaters and drama departments. Almost certainly cheap plastic, and probably from the dollar store.

Well, sure, I was a little creeped out at first. How many reasons would a bunch of dudes have to be hanging around and chanting? And how many of those reasons aren't super sketchy? Best case scenario was a frat hazing, or maybe one of the old not-really-secret boys-only academic societies picking a new supreme chancellor or whatever. But I had no idea.

It was Latin, I think? At least, it sounded a little like what I heard in church growing up, but I never had much of an interest in classical stuff, so I couldn't tell you what they were saying. But it had a ritualistic feel to it, like they'd done this a lot of times already.

I wasn't going to go run to get security right away, though. So I hung out, hiding behind the doorway as well as I could, waiting for something to happen.

Took maybe a minute before they wrapped up their little synchronized thing, then one of them—I couldn't see from there, but I guessed it was the one with the fancy white robe—started talking. In English, thankfully.

Yeah, it was some sort of little secret society they'd put together. The fifth monthly meeting of the Brotherhood of Purity of Something Something, I don't know. Pretty formal; it actually sounded like they were at a real meeting, and not hiding in a cellar wearing masks. Approval of last month's minutes, call for new business, that sort of thing.

Then he started talking about the end of term. And I wish I'd recorded this, or taken notes, or something, because it was fantastic.

He said that the next couple of months would be difficult because they'd lack the support system they had put together, and that they had to stay strong and not fall to "base instincts"—I think that was the phrase he used there—and they should remember the power they were accumulating. Which, okay, kind of weird, but nothing too outlandish.

And then he—look, I'm just going to call him Moron Prime from now own, if that's okay. Moron Prime said that purity gave them strength, and that by removing themselves from temptation they would become greater and greater, and that they'd never have to face rejection again. And that society may not understand them, but that they had found the secret to immortality.

His actual words, as nearly as I can remember them.

I dunno what he was planning on saying next, because that's when I walked into the room. I'd had enough of the mystical stuff, I'd decided there was no danger at all, and I really wanted a couple questions answered.

Oh, they were terrified. Or at least they seemed like they were, what with the shrinking back against the wall and tense postures and such. This was definitely something they were trying to keep private, and here I was, shattering the moment. And that matched my mental image of what they'd do.

Moron Prime was indeed the one in the white robe, and he took a step forward, putting himself in front of the others. This is a private meeting, he said, and his voice was high and nervous.

But don't you know who that is, one of the others said. She has as much potential as any of us.

Prime waved a shaky hand at him. You weren't invited, he said to me. Please leave.

Well, I couldn't leave that hanging, could I? I asked what this potential was. And I said I wasn't leaving until he explained.

Purity, he said. Untouched by others. The key to ascension.

And that's when I burst out laughing, which made them all even more uncomfortable. You mean, I said, that your whole thing is that you're virgins. And you think that's, what, magic?

None of them answered. But a couple of them shuffled in place, and there were some glances between them, and I knew I'd figured it out.

It's just... okay, look. I'm not putting anybody down. Honest to god, that's not what I'm doing. You want to not have sex, fine. Look at me, after all! And you do what you need to do to be happy. Positive self-image and all that. But these idiots actually believed that they were somehow... I don't know, storing up energy or something. That not sleeping with people would eventually give them magic powers.

Yeah. It was the weirdest, most absurd abstinence-only argument I'd ever heard. Hilarious and offensive and just the stupidest thing in the world.

Take your mask off, I told Prime.

He didn't. No surprises there.

I'm not going to tell anyone about this, I said, and I looked at all of them, one by one. I promise. Masks off. Please.

And he did. They all did. And, surprise surprise, I recognized some of them. Guys who I'd seen in the halls, none of whom had ever approached me. Skinny, introverted, unsure of themselves in public. A bunch of nerds, really.

Look, what I said about not judging people? I'm not picking on nerds here either. Being sensitive and intelligent and all that is really a great thing. But these guys were almost all walking stereotypes. Not modern bro-programmers—brogrammers?—who write code and hit the gym three times a day. No, these were button-up and khaki guys with big glasses and no social skills. They couldn't be more awkward and unlikable if they tried. I mean, come on, they decided that they'd rather convince themselves that being alone forever would make them wizards instead of, y'know, actually talking to a woman.

Kind of pitiful, really, in the way that you'd feel bad for a dog who thinks the vacuum cleaner is out to get him: the animal's being a moron, but it just doesn't know any better, and the whole situation's sort of cute.

I wanted to help get this stupid notion out of their heads. And I had an idea.

How do you convince people that purity isn't perfection?

Yup. You make them impure.

Is it really that hard to believe? I was done with responsibilities and assignments and obligations. I'd been as restrained as possible, doing the most wholesome things possible, for as long as possible. This was, as far as I was concerned, the last chance to let loose and try something new, and people say that's part of what the whole college experience is.

Maybe this took it to extremes, but hey, you never know until you try. And I was pretty sure nobody in that room was going to talk about this, ever, to anyone.

I walked forward and looked Moron Prime square in the face, not a foot away. Right, I said. Here's the deal. This is stupid, and I'm gonna drain this magic purity nonsense out of both of us. And we'll find out what the other side is like. And all of you, I said, pointing around the room, should probably stay and watch. Let's learn something together.

Hm? Oh, yeah, I definitely wanted them to watch. Made it feel more exciting, more thrilling. But just to watch, at that point. I didn't originally intend... well, we'll get there soon enough.

Prime swallowed, eyes darting around, but didn't say anything.

Here's your chance, I said. I peeled off my shirt, pulled down my running tights.

Oh, it was barely any less than I'd had before, to be honest. Sports bra and boyshorts. I was running, remember? And the shoes stayed on. No way was I touching a bare foot to that floor.

His eyes were on me now, that's for sure. So were everybody else's, which was kind of flattering—I'm no model, after all. Prime was rocking where he stood. You're sure, he said, voice even higher than before.

Looked like he needed encouragement, and I was happy to provide. I leaned in close, brought my lips to his ear, pressed a hand to what I hoped was the right spot on those robes. I'm sure, I said.

He stepped back, fingers trembling as he pulled the robe over his head. Underneath he had some fake-retro video game t-shirt and Star Wars boxers. A real heartthrob, that one.

I took a step closer; he stepped back, on instinct, and bumped into the white altar thing, and sat down on it so he wouldn't fall. I finally processed what it was: one of those rickety old hospital cots, the wheeled ones, with a cheap sheet thrown over it, and a red rose sitting on the pillow. Symbolism. Stupid, stupid symbolism.

Prime was terrified, poor kid. He let me guide him down into lying down properly on the cot, but jumped like he'd been electrocuted when I pulled down his boxers. He was at half-mast already, though; maybe he kind of liked being pushed around. I didn't ask. And it was a good-sized piece, too. Not porn-star huge, but respectable, and not quite what I'd have thought from the rest of him. But I guess you never know who gets that particular blessing.

I got the underwear off, too, then climbed up onto the cot too—which, come to think of it, was dumb; it probably wasn't built for two people—and knelt over Prime, whose package was definitely still on the rise.

No, the bra stayed on for the moment. It was cold.

Now, I knew plenty about the theory, but I admit I was a little nervous about putting it into practice. But I reached down and grabbed his piece, aiming it up at me. Lowered myself down, hoping I'd get him in on the first try...

Nope. Protection didn't even occur to me. Turned out to be a safe day, which saved some time and heartache down the line, but that was probably my dumbest moment of the night.

Besides, if I had thought about it, I'd have had to call the whole thing off. Unless one of the nerds just happened to have a bagful of condoms for some reason.

I missed, at first, but I think I managed to play it off as intentional. Ground along the length of him before lifting up and trying again. And that time, I took a second to feel it out, rubbing the head against me until I had everything lined up. I eased down onto it.

Look. I own a few toys. I've done plenty of experimentation. An six-inch piece of silicon, or a hunk vibrating plastic, is an amazing thing to experience. But I can't compare either of them to the real thing. And maybe this is just rose-colored glasses, and I'm imagining things as better than they were, but that feeling when he slid inside of me... It's like a soft layer around a hard core, and a warmth, and just... everything felt more alive.

And there was no pain, either, which helped. Guess I'd taken care of that already, over the years.

Moron Prime was super tense. Hands balled into fists, muscles tight, breathing hard. But he was keeping it up, and that's what mattered. When I started moving, sliding halfway off and sinking back on again, he squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw.

I figured he was enjoying himself. Turns out I was right—he didn't even last a minute.

I was nowhere near finding a rhythm, still getting used to these new feelings, when he twitched, legs seizing up, fingers clawing at the sheet, and I felt him finish inside me, more warmth and wetness. Sounded like he was somewhere between laughing and sobbing. Hysterical, I'd call it. I guess he'd never felt anything quite like it before.

I sat still, waiting out his pulses, and glanced around the room. Some of the guys had hands over the crotch-area of their robes. Some of them weren't bothering to try and hide their hard-ons.

And that's when I decided that if you want to make an impact, you might as well go all the way. One hadn't been nearly enough to get me off, but maybe more than one...

I lifted off Prime, his softening piece sliding out wetly, and looked from one face to the next. He pulled himself up, stood, and staggered off to the closest wall, where he slumped, apparently exhausted; I sat on the edge of the cot, legs held apart, making sure they could see me.

A white drop fell from between my legs and landed on the floor with a plop.

I grinned. Don't by shy, I said. Who's next?

Most of them hesitated, looking back and forth between me, each other, and Prime, who was barely starting his road to recovery. But two stepped forward, then stopped, apparently not wanting to seem too eager, or maybe just being polite.

Two's fine, I said, sliding back on the cot, keeping my knees apart, settling my head on the thin pillow. Let's go.

They almost ran to me, then, yanking off robes and climbing out of shorts. One, a kid I vaguely recognized from a statistics class I'd had, came up to where I lay and stopped a couple feet from my face; the other, heavy-set and blond-haired, went to the other end and paused. I guess he was trying to figure out if he should get on the cot or not.

Here, I said, and I wriggled down, pulling my knees up and presenting myself at the very edge of the mattress. I tried to look... sensuous? Is that the right word? I mean, it was a wasted effort on this crowd, but it made me feel pretty good to have them drooling over me, and I was having a lot of fun. I reached out and beckoned to Statistics, who crept closer; as soon as it was in distance, I wrapped a hand around his piece and pulled him closer still. Finally he was next to me, and as I got my lips around the tip I felt Heavy-Blond slide himself into me.

So what I said about toys earlier? Double true with oral. They didn't do anything for me when I tried it on my own, which really isn't surprising, but this was a whole different world. Tasting his sweat, watching him squirm when I moved my tongue, feeling his pulse like that... highly recommended.

And Heavy-Blond was doing pretty well too. He'd seen some amateur porn, I guess, because he wasn't just jackhammering away; he had a thumb in vaguely the right area, and he was trying his best to hit the right spots. I helped him out a little, guiding his fingers until they found the nub; after that, he was great. Being solely on the receiving end was way different than riding, and I liked it almost as much.

I got my hand in on my side of the action, stroking opposite my head and mouth movements, squeezing a little to keep things interesting. Statistics was really getting into it; he actually had a hand on my head at this point, although he wasn't pushing or pulling or anything, and he was making little moaning-breathing sounds every couple seconds. Turns out that actually hearing somebody enjoying what you're doing is pretty hot. Funny how that works.