The British Virgin (Part 3 of 3)


My plan was to walk straight to my apartment located fifteen minutes away, but when we were only a couple hundred feet in front of the club, she sat on a bench. I didn’t object. You can’t be too heavy-handed with this sort of thing.

“It’s a beautiful night out,” she said, looking up in the sky.

“Yes, very beautiful. You can’t see these stars when you’re in a big city.”

“There’s something I have to tell you,” she said, meekly.

“You have AIDS?”

“No I don’t have AIDS!” she yelled.

“Well what it is?”

“I’m a virgin, so nothing can happen tonight.”

Usually I’d have a funny response to that statement, such as “I can help you with your problem,” but I was immediately disappointed. I got excited about railing a petite girl who didn’t mind being penetrated by my digit in the club and now I’m being told nothing will happen. If she’s a virgin at 24 then there’s a reason for it. I didn’t think there was anything I could do.

“You seem upset,” she said, after a minute of silence.

“Upset, no. You being a virgin isn’t a problem for me, but you’re leaving tomorrow, so we don’t have enough time to pursue things at a speed that you’re comfortable with. Just curious, why haven’t you had sex yet?”

“I haven’t met the right guy.”

“Well, the first time will be painful and awkward. The right guy won’t take that away.”

“The first time can still be good,” she said.

“No, it won’t be good. It will be the worst sex you ever have in your life. There will be blood and pain, and not until you have sex four or five times will it start to feel good.” My vibe turned paternal, like I was helping her out. “I know I’m not the right guy to help you with this. You need someone patient who is willing the put in the time to make it feel good for you, to go slow and be gentle. While I do have virgin experience, the last thing on my mind on this island is to take away a girl’s virginity. It’s a thankless task. Men should get paid for it, really.”

She asked me a couple questions about the virgins I deflowered and I answered matter-of-factly, like I was giving a scientific lecture. I discarded my game filter and started saying anything that came to mind because I didn’t think victory was on the horizon.

“It’s a shame really—a pretty girl like you never having sex. You’re in the prime of your life and you’re missing out on one of the most pleasurable feelings that a human can experience. It’s a waste.”

I stared off into space and we sat silently for a few minutes. It was already 4am. She seemed content sitting next to me, her arm resting on my lap. She wasn’t looking at her phone and she wasn’t debating me on any points I was making. I wondered if I should proceed.

I turned my head to look at her and she stared at me. Her silence was hard to read, and I would’ve killed to know what she was thinking at that moment. I leaned in to kiss her and she responded, and then I resumed my program of stroking her hair and legs. Our intimate moment was then interrupted the next bench over by a man violently puking into the grass.

“Gross,” I said, “let’s walk that way a bit.”

“Okay but I’m getting tired.”

I bent down and she jumped on my back, and I carried her as we walked in the direction of my apartment. I didn’t tell her where we were going, but I assumed she knew.

“You can put me down now, you don’t need to prove that you are strong,” she said.

“Why not? I like proving that I’m strong. That’s what men do.”

I carried her like a mule, hiding the labor in my breath until she insisted I put her down. With about 8 minutes left to go in the walk I hit her with constant chatter to distract her.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked.

“We are going to my apartment to listen to music and have a drink. We’re obviously not going to have sex.”

She didn’t object, but a big flight of stairs caused her to balk. So I picked up her again, this time with my arms. Though she was only 105 pounds, I really had to give it all I had, and thanked myself for semi-regularly doing a strenuous program of squats in the gym. She complimented my strength and I felt validated and pleased.

Once at my place, I made drinks and then offered to show her the view from my balcony. She was suddenly energized, her eyes darting around, as if her brain was going a mile a minute. She didn’t touch the drink and barely cared about the view. It took me longer than I’d like to admit to notice that this girl, at the age of 24, was ready to lose her virginity.

I suggested she lay down on my bed. She didn’t want to kiss—she just wanted to get straight to penetration. I left on her bra and removed her skirt and panties. Her pussy was trimmed. It looked pure and clean. I put on a condom, squirted on a bit of lube, and tried to work it in while she squeezed her legs in a vice grip around my body.

“You’re going to have to relax,” I said. “It’s going to hurt like hell, but I will go slow.”

And hurt it did. Poor girl was biting down on her lower lip, whimpering, as I managed to get two inches inside her. I want to say I was a complete gentleman but my animal instincts did take over and I went faster and deeper than I should have.

In the darkness I noticed some blood forming on my sheets but it didn’t stop me from going down on her. I ate her pussy like a lion feasting on a deer carcass, which relaxed her a bit and allowed me to go almost all the way in when I got back on top of her. To combat her tendency to squeeze her legs, I shut them closed and fucked her missionary, which is easier than it sounds. Her pain subsided a bit and I came.

The first thing she said afterwards was, “I didn’t orgasm.” I laughed and told her I wasn’t surprised, that it will take time to find out the sexual positions that pleasure her most. I also added that a woman cannot orgasm as tense as her body was.

I went into the bathroom and dumped the blood-soaked condom in the toilet. I rinsed my mouth with water and noticed it was faint red when I spit out.

She wanted to leave so I walked her to her hotel and exchanged contact information. Her eyes remained wide open as if she was somewhat traumatized.

The next day my friend asked me what happened. All I had to do was show him the bed. It looked like someone had taken one cup of blood and threw it on the white sheets. We were renting from an old married couple that already complained to us about our noise level and having guests, so I didn’t want to jeopardize our stay when they came to clean the apartment in two days only to see a horrifying scene.  I went to a bedding store and bought the exact same sheets for $30. At night I discreetly disposed of the bloody sheets in the dumpster. I felt like I was covering up a crime.

I thought about the virgin a lot in the next couple of days. I thought about how I wanted to turn her into my own personal sex kitten, completely clean of other cocks. She messaged me and asked how my trip was going. Encouraged by her initiative, I replied back saying, “It would be nice if you came to visit me before I return to the US. I will be in Zagreb for at least a month.”

She came to visit me in Zagreb a couple weeks later, staying for three days. We had a lot of sex and I was quite pleased to take the principal role in molding the sexuality of a female human being.

I visited her again three months later for five days, and while the sex was better, I began to lose interest. New pussy began to feel like old. I thought that having a virgin would make me more likely to hold on to a girl, but my eye began to roam again, until eventually I deflowered a new virgin that was younger and even more feminine. Her pussy was so pure and clean.

Read Next: “You Broke Me”

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