Patience Loses Her Virginity

"What do you think of our Patience, Jack? Bit more up here than me." Jack was staring at her now opened mouthed. Encouraged by his gaze, Flora began to slowly unbutton Patience's blouse until it was almost opened to the waist. The chemise Patience wore beneath had a simple drawstring, which was quickly loosened to exposing the upper swell of Patience's breasts.

The effect was very dramatic; Patience gasped. Not so much at her unexpected exposure, but the instant growth and transformation that occurred within her hand. His cock was rigid, now at least six inches long and broad -- like a baby's arm.

"Oh my," Was all Patience could say.

Flora laughed, "That's more like it, big boy. Always tell them they've got a big cock, that's rule one.

"But what, even if they haven't?"

"Especially if they haven't! Now pay close attention. It may look completely different but what you do to a man is just the same as what you do to a woman. Now if you gently stroke his balls—that's just the same as the outer lips on a woman. Yes?" She glanced in Patience's direction. Patience nodded.

"So you start there. Then you've got the stem, that's it." Patience had automatically put her hand around to grip Jack's stem. Now move your hand up and down, just like if you were massaging a vulva, that's it not too fast. Some men like fast, some slow. Unfortunately, men don't get wet like women, so use some oil. "Flora retrieved some massage oil from a cupboard and dribbled some on to Patience's hands and down onto Jack's cock.

"Now spread that round. That's it. Go up and down the whole length, like this." Flora made an okay sign with her thumb and fingers touching. "Quite tight".

As Patience followed the instructions, Jack made a groaning sound, and Patience stopped.

"Are you alright: did I hurt you?"

Jack's voice sounded husky and short of breath. "Yes, no, yes I am fine. Very good...what you are doing...it's very good."

Flora laughed again. "So do that for a little while: up and down the stem. Massage the balls then back to the stem. Now let's look at the tip. You see this. It's just like a clitoris but bigger, you've got the sensitive tip here, and its covered by a hood, called the foreskin. See, just like a clitoris. So, it's usually better to work on the hood more than the tip itself."

Flora gently explored. Using her thumb and forefinger she gripped the widest part and pushed the foreskin back, then forward.

She realised that Jack was beginning to thrust his hips in time with what she was doing.

"Steady there." Said Flora, I think he'd nearly ready. Let me get a towel."

She placed a towel over Jack's front, spreading it to cover his chest down to his groin.

"Okay, off you go. Stem again then, foreskin. Now stem, firm grip. Right up to the top. Make it feel like his cock is pushing into a vagina."

This was another of those revelatory moments for Patience, who suddenly realised the practicalities of how it all worked. How could she have not realised before? That's why they got long and hard, that's why vaginas got so wet. She felt so naïve. But then the thought struck her, how could a huge cock like that fit inside a small vagina. She thought of her own sex: she was surely too small for such a penetration. What would it feel like? Was Alfred this big?

Jack's was breath was getting ragged he seemed out of breath, Flora had Patience pause. She placed her Hand on Patience's forearm, "Make him wait, just a minute. OK carry on." Flora had her do this several times.

Patience, watched Jack's face. She saw his expression lock into a grimace, she saw him thrust his hips forward and freeze. It was the hand on his balls that felt the paroxysm, then again, and then delayed by the shortest of moments, the eruption of white lava from the tip. Patience watched with fascination. The warm fluid spurted again dropping onto the towel, then again less powerfully. The silky liquid was running between her fingers. Her other hand could still detect the decaying cadence.

The wedding night

The wedding had gone off so well. Patience's father had made a very good speech. Her mother, who generally didn't drink, had got a little tipsy and had decided to explain the facts of life to Patience as the dessert course was being served. Thankfully, for her, Auntie Millie had managed to intervene.

The wedding over, they had caught the train down to Dover. They were to honeymoon in Paris, but that would be tomorrow. Tonight they had a suite at the Burlington Hotel. It was grand room, overlooking the pier; the room even had its own bathroom. It also had a sumptuous looking double-bed.

Patience had been concerned about 'the wedding night', and specifically the imminent loss of her virginity. But her training session and subsequent chats with Flora had put her mind at rest. Indeed, she was very much looking forward to the experience. In the last couple of weeks she had had all the arrangements to occupy her thoughts, but now that was over and she was here, alone with her new husband, Alfred, she was quite excited.

She was somewhat surprised therefore when Alfred suggested a stroll on the promenade, to take in some sea air. Dutifully she agreed. It was already dark when they stepped out of the hotel, and a stiff breeze was blowing in off the sea. They crossed the deserted road to the Pier, but it was closed. So they strolled along the sea front promenade for a little way. The wind was whipping up waves, and every so often they were hit by forceful blast of salt spray. Patience suggested that they go back.

At the hotel entrance Alfred suggested a night cap. He dealt with her uncomprehending expression by attempting an explanation in simpler terms: they might wile away am hour or two in the hotel's bar. It was at that point when Patience realised that she would have to take charge of the situation. She was not sure what was going on, but it was time for action.

"Alfie, can we go up now, I would like to go to bed?" she said.

"Oh my dear, I am sorry, are you tired?"

"No, not really," as she said it she held his eye, she hoped he understood.

They arrived back in their room and divested themselves of their wet coats. Patience's hair was bedraggled by its sea front exposure so she unpinned it and let it fall down to her shoulders.

"Come here," she commanded. She took his hands in hers and drew him towards her. "Kiss me." He did as he was told. First a short kiss, then a longer one.

"Take your clothes off."

"What!"

"Take your clothes off. You have seen me, I haven't seen you. You undressed me once, remember. I want to see you."

He took of his jacket, then his shirt. She ran her hands over his bare chest. They kissed again.

"And the rest," she nodded in the direction of his trousers. She surprised herself, enjoying this sense of control.

He removed the rest of his clothes, and stood naked before his new wife. He gestured with his hands, palms upturned, here I am. She surveyed her new husband. He was very handsome; he would definitely do. She let her eyes run all the way down then up: not bad.

"Wait," she commanded. She began to undress. Not quickly, not slowly just efficiently and purposefully removing item by item. Until all she wore was a cotton shift.

"Kiss me again," she said. They kissed on the lips. "Now here," she indicated her neck below her ear. He bent inward, softly kissing her neck. She pulled the cords of the bow that fastened her shift, exposing her upper chest. "Kiss me here." Delicately he kissed her chest. She paused, and as they looked into each other's eyes, she pushed the open shift from her shoulders and allowed to fall.

"Kiss me again." Naked, their bodies touched flesh to flesh, they kissed again. "Lie down". He lay on the bed, and she joined him. For a few moments they just looked at each other. She stroked her hand across his chest, traced the side of his body, down to his hips. His penis was becoming erect; she brushed it with her fingertips.

"Touch me," she said, "here." She took his hand and guided it between her legs. In perfect symmetry, as she stroked him, he stroked her. She could see him visibly responding, rising proud. She could feel the heat of her own body responding too.

She wanted him and she wanted him now. She gave him no warning: she just pushed him flat to the bed. Deftly, she manoeuvred to kneel astride his legs. Patience looked down at her helpless husband and smiled. Reaching down into her night bag she found the bottle of massage oil Flora had given her. Patience applied a good handful to his penis. Using both hands, fingers interlaced, she caressed the length of his shaft. He groaned appreciatively, she did it again.

"You are very big," she said.

She remembered what Flora had shown her, whenever he seemed to become overly aroused she paused or stroked another area: his chest, his thigh or his balls.

He was very hard now, and she considered simply edging forward and impaling herself. She would lower herself down, inch by inch. She knew she was very wet. Her sex ached to feel him inside her. It would be so easy.

But this was not quite what she wanted— not quite. She had always imagined her virginity would be taken, not given. She wanted to yield to his strength. In her wildest imaginings a man would overpower her; she would lie back and be entered. She wasn't sure if she could tell him, unsure of the words to use. But it had to be now. She rolled off him and lay back, arms above her head. He recognised in her submission what she required of him, and he moved to lie across her. His strong hands held hers still above her head. This was indeed what she wanted.

Slowly, he pushed forward. She was so aroused, so open, so wet. His penis slid easily into her. Slowly, slowly forward, feeling his way, she felt her vagina exquisitely stretched, wider, wider. She gasped. She was so full. He eased back and she thought he was going to withdraw completely, and that would have been unbearable. But he pushed forward again more forcibly this time. It became a regular wonderful rhythm. She groaned, and she recognised the first feeling of a paroxysm stirring deep within her; it was happening. With each thrust it was building. It was happening, slowly slowly building, that inner tension.

Alfred, suddenly gasped, his face strained in a taught agony, and he stopped moving. She could feel his member throbbing inside her. He had reached his climax, and that was surely good. But she needed him to move: needed his thrust. Her paroxysm was drifting away. She managed to wrench one hand free from his, and to force it between their two bodies reaching for her clitoris. Her hand moved rapidly, it was enough and just in time, to recapture the fleeing animal and bring it home. The paroxysm cascaded over her.

They rested in each other's arms. She felt him decrease within her and they pulled apart smiling.

"How was that?" Patience asked.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful."

"How did I...," she paused awkwardly, "how did I compare to your previous lovers?" She knew she was wrong to ask, but she desperately needed to know.

"Previous lovers? He looked sheepishly away, "there aren't any. You were my first—this was my first time."

She pulled him to her. They kissed and slept and woke and kissed and repeated their love making: a blissful start to their married life.

The next day they caught the steamer to France, and the honeymoon began. In only a few short years Patience would wave him off on the same steamer. Him, promising to be back by Christmas; she, never to see him again. But for now they were blissfully happy together.