“You’re a virgin?” I rolled back on to my side, smiling. No way could I have scored a virgin. No fucking way!
“Well yeah, but…” she covered her face with her hands. “I’m just not that experienced with any of this.”
I gently kissed her head. “That’s fine.” Are you shitting me?
She just laid there.
“Can we... still? Kiss?” I asked. I mean, what the fuck? You’re not 12.
We started making out more and it was good and nice but really? What the fuck? This chick was 22 years old with a huge set of knockers. How the hell could she be “new to all of this?”
I didn’t deflower her for another month.
We made out a lot. We took off our clothes and came so very close more than once, but I didn’t have condoms and Princess Purity didn’t either. Fuck, I wanted to get laid so bad. And I hated fucking condoms. So I went down on her. More than once. And she gave me hand jobs. More than once. Did she go down on me? No. Little twit never went down on me. I mean, how about you give a little with all that take, right? One day after we smoked a bowl and started kissing, I even tried pushing her head down. She looked at me in horror so I told her I was kidding. But really? What the fuck? I can’t get my dick wet in your pussy or your mouth?
So I started ignoring her. Like on New Year’s. I just took off for a week with my cousins. Yeah I thought of her, she was my Beth. But she wouldn’t go down on me and there were no condoms, and I was gonna explode if I spent more time with her.
The week after New Year’s we talked in her car after work one day. She cried and told me she really cared about me but that she couldn’t take the “lack of communication.” She asked if she should drive me home and I agreed.
We got to my place and just sat for a moment with the car still running.
“Just go,” she cried. Her face was all wet, her eyes all red and puffy.
“You really want me to?”
She didn’t answer me, wouldn’t look at me.
“I love you.” What the motherfucking shit did I just say?!?
She didn’t look at me, thankfully, so I opened the door to get out and she grabbed my hand, holding it so hard I sat back down.
“Please don’t leave,” she whispered through her sobs.
We hugged and wiped each other’s tears.
This piece is a continuation of last week's piece. Both fiction. I'm stepping outside of my comfort zone big time by trying to write from a male's point of view.