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I often wonder why losing one’s virginity is such a ‘big deal’ in today’s society. A person isn’t taken seriously until they’ve reached this point in their life where they submit and ravage another human being. It can be a wonderful, romantic experience, it can be a wild, torrid affair. I encourage those who haven’t yet given themselves away, to wait for the right moment. But the right moment might not be with your future husband or wife, it could just be a one night stand that you remember for the rest of your life.
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I met him at the airport. I didn’t know his name. We’d met at a club three months ago and hit it off. We talked to each other anonymously from the start. Words like “sexy girl” and “darling” were used to replace names. I don’t think we did it on purpose, that’s just how it started. After that night at the club, he went back to Tampa, or Denver, or Chicago; wherever it was that he really lived. We swapped e-mail addresses and started chatting online. Most of the time we shared erotic fantasies with one another. We didn’t talk about who I was, or who he was, nothing real. The only thing real we knew was that we were both lonely virgins with wants and needs.
I remember seeing him for the first time in all those months. He was tall and handsome, with jet black hair that fell just before his eyes. They were dark brown and hypnotic, full of insecurity, but deep with soul. His skin was sun-stained, tan and rugged, his face unshaven. His body was strong and muscular, I imagine what ever he did involved being outdoors and lifting heavy objects. I’m not really certain. I never asked.
He had imperfections as I do, but they didn’t at all detract from the desirability of the package. He was dressed in a loose fitting Hawaiian shirt with black slacks and his feet shuffled around in brown burkenstocks. He carried only one small travel bag. We didn’t need to stop at baggage claim.
The second I saw him there was no ‘Hello.’ There was no ‘I missed you.’ Words were cast aside as my lithe body flung itself against his and our lips sank into each other. We didn’t notice the other flight passengers staring as they walked by, or the nervous security guards; too embarrassed to tell us to take our reunion elsewhere. When the kiss ended, we silently took each other by the hand and found a cab.
I gave the name of the hotel to the cabbie, who seemed to know a little more English than the one who drove me to the airport. We didn’t speak as we drove to our destination, we fidgeted and writhed in our seats. I could see him getting hard underneath his slacks, I decided to up the ante. Slowly and cautiously I reached up under my short black skirt, I pulled down at my light pink thong and started to slide it down my body. I watched his eyes gape, and I couldn’t believe my own actions. I removed my panties and placed them in my purse, discreetly enough so that the driver wouldn’t notice. I then made it a game of opening and closing my legs, leaving him begging for a moments gaze at what hid between them.
When we reached the hotel his eyes were aflame with pure savagery. I really didn’t know him at all, but something about that intoxicated me. I’d gone through relationship after relationship, never able to give up my virginity. And I could have, oh I could have. I’m beautiful. People tell me all the time. I have a sleek, smooth body, dark skin and deep green eyes. It’s a mysterious sort of beauty. I’m like a gypsy; graceful and full of life. My long hair is always growing, never cut or styled from pop-culture fashion magazines.
I was sick of being a prude. I wanted to let go. That feeling of ‘not finding the right one’ had kept my legs locked shut for too long. One day I said to myself: ‘Well, fuck … I may never find the right one, and am I really going to wait until I get married or grow old and have way too may cats?’ That’s when I decided to make it anonymous.
As we made it through the hotel doors and took the elevator to our room, he pinned me against the metal wall with ferocity. I wasn’t sure if I was going to pass out from the sensation of my body colliding with three feet of metal, or my clitoris convulsing with pleasure. His tongue slid over mine with a sort of fixation. His movements encompassed me, forcing hot satisfaction over my body like a thick fog… “Ding!” The door opened and an elderly couple started to enter the elevator. He slid off me with a grin as the couple stared at us with disdain. Luckily, it was our floor to get off. So to speak.
And so, we reached room 636. I struggled with the plastic key until finally the green light flashed and we were in. As the door flew open, we scraped and pulled at each other with a savage carnal lust. His hands roved my body hungrily, his lips crashed against my skin. His teeth gnawed at my flesh, as if wanting to engulf my entire sexuality.
There was no foreplay, there were no words of endearment, but oh … was there ever screaming. We bumped into everything, ripping off clothing as we went. Buttons popped and lingerie tore. My corset was of no importance. We both just needed it, wanted it. Years of pent up frustration let itself out in a few short moments. The room was rank with sex. We grinned and kissed and collided. Our naked bodies begging, searching for one thing.
I initiated it. I pinned him down on the bed, and said the first words I’d spoken to him all night. “Fuck me…” He looked nervous at first, but his hard member gave away his true feelings. It was so large, so long… I stared at it for a moment, and wondered silently how to put it inside me. I placed my wet vagina over him and started to work the tip in. I winced as I felt my body opening for the invasion. I whimpered, almost crying as it hurt, as it ached. This can’t be sex I thought, this is awful, it’s too big… As he pushed the entirety of his cock into me, I felt something inside me give way. The hymen was broken, my virginity a memory.
Slowly my body loosened around the massive intruder, the pain reduced and disappeared entirely. As the pain faded, a new form of arousal filled my body and I rocked on his throbbing organ. I convulsed and shook with want, I grabbed him, pulling him tight. It was strange, being one with another person, feeling his movements inside me.
We changed positions, never separating, his body on top of mine. It was awkward at first, he slipped out once or twice, but we kept going. He was grinning, I was screaming. I didn’t scream his name, however. I screamed vulgarities, I cried to God, I whispered dirty phrases in his ear. I called myself a slut. It’s amazing how liberating sex is. All inhibitions are thrown to the wind as passion reigns and sweating bodies crash together. Every part of our forms touched. His hands pinched at my aching nipples. My digits clenched around his firm buttocks, pulling him deeper and deeper into me, reveling in my sin.
One hand slipped away from him and began to stroke my clit while he pounded my insides. The feeling of a warm, hard, penis thrusting in and out of your cavern while you rub your pleasure spot is unforgettable. The friction is divinely erotic. My climax approached and I let him, and the next few rooms know it. My cries were echoes of lust that crossed universes. He egged me on, pounding harder, and harder. I gripped his back and hugged him close to me. My hand cupped my clit, my insides clenched and orgasm exploded within. A few thrusts later his cock pulled out and jizm shot all over my stomach and breasts. It was warm and sticky. I laughed and cried. I fell back onto the bed.
We cuddled a bit, still silent, enjoying the afterglow. After he fell asleep I took a long warm bath and then gathered my clothes. I wrote a note and left it by the bed:
‘Thank you. You took what I couldn’t give,
and gave me something in return.
You are a beautiful stranger.’
I braided a few locks of my long brunette hair and cut it, leaving a signature of sorts. I left the luxury suite and called a cab for home. I went to bed alone, and spend the rest of the evening running my experience over and over again in my head. My hands strayed to my pleasure zones as I ‘reminisced.’
I never saw my nameless lover again. I imagine he tried to e-mail me or find me online, but I erased my screen names and changed my address. Perhaps he felt the same way I did; some things are just too beautiful to complicate with relationships. In a way, perhaps I loved him. His body was my temple, if for one short night.
I’ve had sex with many partners since then, my fears long gone with my virginity. I’ve fallen in love, and I’ve lost, but I’ve never had another anonymous lover. He will always be my beautiful stranger.