I was 15 when I gave up my virginity. I didn’t lose it. I gave it. Freely. To a boy who was 3 years older than I. He was tall and lanky. He was a cyclist. All lean muscle. I was a little nothing of a thing back then. 5′7″ and all of 115 lbs dripping wet. Even then an hour glass shape. With curves to my hips and large soft breasts.
We’d been dating several months. We’d talked about it endlessly. Whether or not to do it. I wanted him desperately. I wanted to feel him inside of me. To feel his skin on mine.
It was a spring afternoon when it finally happened. In his parents home. Not in one of the basement rooms where we usually hung out. Upstairs. In the guest bathroom. We were being playful and silly and then all of a sudden we were kissing.
I reached into the waistband of his shorts and found his cock. Wrapping my hand around him. Long and hard. His hands underneath my shirt. Fondling my tits. I started to slide his shorts down his legs. Freeing him of them. He reached to unbutton mine. Eyes locked on each other. No sound except heavy breathing. Hearts racing.
The toilet seat already down, he lowered himself to it. His cock standing straight up. I climbed on top of him. Straddling. He took his cock in his hand and guided it to me. My hands on his shoulders, gripping him. I carefully lowered myself onto him. Slowly. Feeling him stretch me. Till I had taken him all. I wrapped my arms around his neck and we just sat there. The backs of my thighs pressing against the top of his. Joined. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, his hands rested on my hips. He began lifting me. Helping me thrust on him.
Then he picked me up. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He lowered me to the floor. Cool tile underneath us both. And he was on top of me. Slowly thrusting into me. His pace quickened. My nails dug into his back. Then he came. I didn’t. But that day I didn’t care.