"I'm not a virgin any more."
The silent words kept coming back to me as I lay in the moonlit darkness. Maybe I was trying them on to see how they fit, and wasn't quite sure what to think. I gave Steve's hand a gentle squeeze. He made a small sound and squeezed back without waking.
"I'm not a virgin any more."
Sheets rustled over my other hand as I reached between my legs. My fingertips brushed over the outer lips, feeling where they had been worked almost too hard. I opened my thighs and probed inside. There was rubbed-too-much rawness, but only a little, and a pinprick of stinging that passed in a moment. Wet, of course, and slippery. To tell the truth, I was expecting worse, and hadn't bled more than a pink tinge. I still felt a warm glow behind all that. I hadn't come (I didn't expect that I would, not the first time), but the excitement lingered, of inviting him into me for my first time.
"I'm not a virgin any more."
My hand slid out of Steve's, and moved over to his penis. I just wanted to feel it again, this column that left my body so recently, taking my virginity with it. So small now!
I pulled the sheets back, so I could see him in the blue moonlight. Its smallness seemed unfamiliar – all the times I saw boys undressed, even Steve, they had erections. The last time I saw one little like this was when my brother was two or three, running around the house naked after his bath. Steve's penis looked sweet somehow, so small and soft. With the sheet off, cool air started to tighten my nipples. I could see his balls tightening too. I almost giggled when I realized that his balls and my nipples were doing the same thing, for the same reason.
Steve's splayed legs let me reach down and cup his balls in my hand. They felt so warm and vulnerable. It reminded me of holding my friend's pet hamster: small, fragile, and warm almost the same way. I stroked him with my thumb as I cupped him in my hand, and traced the outline of each testicle – another new sensation for me. A sense of quiet intimacy swept over me. I had never felt quite that kind of closeness before, the kind that holding his balls in my hand gave me.
I saw his penis shift as my hand moved. I wanted to feel my little deflowerer again, so I knelt over it and took its softness into my mouth. Steve was still asleep, I'm sure of it, but his penis started to swell. My lips and tongue examined it, feeling each change of size and hardness. Soon, only half of its length fit into my mouth. I held the base of his shaft in one hand, while the other still held the musky warmth of his balls.
A sweet taste opened up, and the head of his penis felt slick and silky to my lips. I knew, if there had been enough light, that I would have seen a clear droplet rising from the slit at the tip. Just then, Steve moaned and stroked my shoulder – the privacy between me and his penis had to be shared now.
I loved the way he held my head when I kissed his penis. He was always gentle, stroking wisps of hair away from my face or tracing the curve of my ear. Sweet slickness spread across my mouth as I continued to slide along his penis. I felt my own body answering, labia warming and thickening to tell me that I wanted him again. I moved my hand from his balls to that spot between my own legs, enjoying the handful of excitement that I found. An urge to feel full again swept away the soreness – I'd deal with that in the morning. My fingers pressed and entered, and proved to me that I wanted him again.
Giving one more kiss and squeeze, I let go of Steve and reached down beside the bed. I pulled a condom from my purse, then sat up to examine the package in the night's half-light. I could see Steve looking at me now, one arm behind his head and the other hand stroking his penis. The little envelope tore easily. I rolled it down his shaft xarefully, since he did the first one and I'd only practiced on inanimate objects befor.
Steve got up on one elbow, but I pushed him back. "No," I said and straddled his lap. By now, I was trembling with excitement. I leaned over his chest, supporting myself on the bed with one hand. My other hand reached down to the penis between my legs; I lifted my hips and used it to tease open my inner labia. I looked down, but there wasn't much to see in the darkness. After a moment of fumbling, I guided the tip to my body's entrance and pressed a little of the head in.
I sat up straight, still holding it, and lowered my erect body onto his erection. I lifted myself with my legs and lowered onto it again, a fraction deeper this time, then again. When it was far enough in, I took my hand away. I looked into his moonlit face, then, and saw the most wonderful smile. Tension held every part of his body and lifted his head off the pillow. I pushed him back, rose, and settled ever deeper onto his erection. When I thought I couldn't go lower, I tilted my hip, sat back onto him, and felt a flutter high in my stomach as if his penis had gone that far into me.
I couldn't reach his chest while sitting up straight, but held his waist in my hands. The dim light showed his whole torso wound tight. I put one hand to my own breast, and rolled the nub of a nipple between finger and thumb. I blurted out, "Have you ever seen a girl play with herself?"
A confused look hit his face. "But girls can't –"
"But girls can." I sounded a lot braver and more certain than I felt. He lay back with a hand on each of my thighs. I lifted a little, let my free hand move to my clitoris, and sat again. It felt new, playing with my clit and feeling all that fullness behind it. Most of all, it felt shivery new to be seen doing what had only ever been private before. My thoughts whirled, doing what nice girls don't do but what's right in every part of me, being shier and bolder than ever before, all at once. The affection and wonder when Steve looked at me said it was right, and my body loved to be loved.
At first, I just stroked my clitoris, way back from the tip where the feeling would have been too much. Then my hips started moving on their own, lifting off his lap and settling back down until his erection touched something deep inside. I shifted front and back, too, feeling his penis tilting against my inner walls. My other hand cupped my breast even tighter, with my nipple held firmly between two fingers.
In a few minutes, it happened. I stared at Steve with my mouth open in a frozen sigh, my breath locked in my throat. I rubbed my clitoris furiously, fast but not hard, to keep the intensity at its peak. My pelvis slammed down onto him, trapping my fingers between his pubis and mine.
The tremors lasted longer than ever before, with occasional waves of orgasm still rising above the receding tide. Steve had seen me come before, but never like this, never this way. I almost melted as the tension drained away. He sat up then, his penis shifting inside me, and hugged me as closely as our awkward position allowed. His face pressed into my hair where my shoulder and neck came together; he whispered my name over and over.
I leaned away from him for a moment and shifted my legs. They had been kneeling under me, going to sleep, and I unfolded them. Once they were both in front of me, wrapped around him, I settled my hips deeper than ever onto his erection and held him close. I felt filled with a loving glow, my cheek against his chest. I never wanted him to leave my body, as if his penis capped the warmth inside me. I couldn't help it – I cried in happy sobs and hugged him with strength I didn't know I had.
He tilted my chin upwards, so he could see my teary face. He was clearly concerned. His mouth opened as if he were going to say something. I stopped him. "No, I'm OK. I'm just happy. Too happy." He let me tremble against his chest again until my breath came smoothly.
Then I felt his legs rise under me. He was lifting me on his thighs. I moved to get off him but he pressed my hips down with his hands, lowered his thighs, and settled me full depth onto his erection. He looked down into my face with a heavenly smile, then lifted and settled me again. One arm clasped my shoulders close to him, and his other hand moved low on the small of my back. Lift and settle, lift and press down. I worked with him now, pulling my knees up and tilting my hips down to find the strongest, deepest pressure around him – up and down. His eyes never left mine as the pace increased. He pulled me down harder, pressing on my shoulders and hip.
Then his eyes widened with an intense beauty that I had never seen in him before. He whispered my name again, arched his head back, and pulled me close with all of his strength. His hips bucked under me for a moment, then stopped. Gradually, his embrace softened and his tension eased. Then it occurred to me that the moment had to pass, and I felt a tingle that warned of soreness to come. Holding each other, we tipped clumsily onto our side, then laughed as we started to untangle legs sheened with sex and sweat. He stopped me as we started to uncouple, reached between us, and then pulled out of me. He gave an embarrassed smile. "I thought the condom was coming off," but I could see that he held it so it didn't. Once we were apart, he slid it off. We cleaned up, at least a little; he wrapped the used condom in the wad of our cleanup tissues and threw the handful out. We lay back, happy and exhausted.
"Spoon me." Lying on our sides, I pushed my hips back into his lap and felt his half-hard penis against my bottom. His hand cupped my breast and my hand cupped his, his prickly chin rested against my shoulder, and his breathing came slow and even. I lay awake in the moonlight, with half of a happy tear on the side of my nose. The little soreness I felt earlier was big now, but that was OK.
"I'm not a virgin any more." This time, it felt true.