As a 22-year-old virgin, denying your boyfriend penetrative sex can be somewhat frustrating for both him and you. Although, sometimes when I am sexually excited I do want him to take me and just simply and swiftly enter me. I want to feel his penis up and in me. I want him to give me an orgasm through penetration and penetration alone. You get to the point of no return and he's on top of you-he's poised, ready to take your virginity; but you change your mind. Are you sure he's the right one? Do you feel awful when you say you can't go through with it? Hell, yes! Do you just want to cry when you see his face? Yep. Pretty much.
I remain a virgin- 6 months into the relationship- by choice. I will save my virginity for someone, whether it be for Alex or not, who I feel will appreciate it and be honoured by it- not to mention that this person would be gentle with it too! To me, someone's virginity is an awesome responsibility. If I were to be someone's first, I would be utterly flattered that they had chosen to entrust me with their last physical mark of innocence.
Although Alex and I don't have penetrative sex, we still partake in acts such as oral sex and masturbation. To make matters worse he lives in NYC and I, in England. Yet all hope is not lost, reader! I live in a separate apartment, in Manhattan when not at university (in England)- I'm English by the way; and yes, we do have orthodontists in Britain now. Yet he permanently lives in NYC. So I'll only ever see him in NYC for about 4 solid months. Unfortunately the cliché of 'being in different stages in our lives' is relevant and applicable in our relationship. He's 29 and I, 21. Let's put it this way, he earns a salary and I spend my day in a classroom.
Like most women whose boyfriends are older than themselves, you respect and adore your boyfriend even more than you would someone who is perhaps only 2 years older. He's the type of person with whom you can sing along to really cheesy and camp songs- thank you very much Marvin Gaye- and talk about absolutely anything with. Or just lounge around on the grass in Central Park with and because of his generosity, just slob out and gorge yourself on ice cream at his apartment. His wit won it for me though- even if I did despise him when I first met him! His one flaw is that he's far too easy to beat at Scrabble and Chess- but more than makes up for it afterwards; if you've seen 'The Thomas Crown Affair', you'll get my point.
He knows exactly what turns me on and what doesn't- I didn't even have to tell him, ladies! I know- you thought they were impossible to train, didn't you? Just the thought of him lazily dragging his hands over my inner thighs completely turns me on. The anticipation of him using an index finger and running it along the edge of my panties near my vagina gets me excited. So excited that even I, a conservative Brit, didn't resist his touch on a stiflingly hot New York summer's day, whilst laying on the grass at Battery Park. I was lying on my side, reading 'The Virgin and the Gipsy' by D. H. Lawrence (in some places, a very suggestive book!), he was reading over my shoulder (which I absolutely hate!). His body, moulded in the exact same shape as mine. His groin, somewhat obscenely, pushing up against me. His hands were cold from clutching a cold drink. He trailed his fingers up from the back of my knee to the end of my skirt on my excruciatingly hot right thigh- you'll know what I mean if you've ever been in NYC in the summer. My involuntary response was goose pimples all over my body. I immediately smiled but pretended not to notice and bit my lip to hide it. He ran his hand up my thigh again, clearly getting frustrated by my lack of noticeable response. Getting more impatient he whispered into my ear, 'I want to lick your entire body right here, right now and in front of everyone. I want to taste you and play with you.'
Despite his lack of usual eloquence, by this time I was more than sexually excited. I could feel my white panties getting wetter and wetter by the second. Hoping that he wouldn't notice the smell of sex being given off, I put my book down and turned on to my other side to face him.
'Why on earth would you want to do that?' I bluntly said to him.
The look on his face was utterly adorable! (Toying with men is a hobby, by the way!) I sat up, untied and ran my fingers through my hair. On my knees I accidentally kneeled over far enough so that he would catch a glimpse up my skirt. It took me ages to gather all my belongings and put them into my handbag- oh the coincidence. I stood above and over him, slightly over the top of his head and said,
'What do you want to do now? Go to lunch? Your apartment? Mine?'
I presume he was distracted by something he saw since he couldn't decide on what he wanted to do until he hailed a taxi and I gave his address to the driver. It was amazing- the taxi driver managed to not actually get us lost! The driver was paid and after a quick nod to the doorman we waited for the elevator to get to the ground floor. It was deserted when we got in. I sat down in the corner, leant back and crossed my legs- despite its corny implications, it's amazing how many people find Sharon Stone's leg crossing manoeuvre effective especially with that much sexual tension in the air. Alex walked over towards me and stood next to my legs. He was about to part my thighs when the lift doors opened.
We arrived at Alex's front door. I stood with my body innocently touching his whilst waiting for him to open the bloody door! It's rather hard to not look sexually excited when you're craving sex. He looked a little flustered whilst trying to push the key into the lock. I pretended to have an itch on the top of my thigh and as I scratched my skin with one of my fingers, my other fingers had lifted my skirt up a bit higher. I saw him glance down at my hand but without moving his head.
He finally got the door open. As he walked in behind me, I stopped dead and bent over to pick up an envelope that someone had pushed under the door. Alex didn't stop in time and bumped into me. The first thing I felt was what I could only presume to be his erection or a bloody large 80s style mobile phone. I ignored him and handed him the envelope. As his hand came forward for the envelope, I stroked his fingers from underneath the paper. He looked up at me as if expecting something. I merely glanced up at him.
