College Campus Virginal

Let's call this an essay, less lyrical, a list of facts. His name was James. I remember lots of dark chocolate, French press coffee, long hours pretending to study but really just amusing ourselves with conversation. He bought me things, he took me places. We were friends, with some sort of physical chemistry and a small amount of mental connection, but were virtually opposites in almost every way. When I'd first seen him, I was completely repelled by him, but over time we'd gotten to know each other, played music together and gradually developed a semi-explosive relationship. There on campus, we were a running joke, as to whether we were communicating or at odds with each other. And sometimes he was just a little bit cruel. He didn't comprehend me or the way my mind and emotions worked, but we spent hours and hours together.

Let it be noted, I went to a very strict religious college. The rules included a detailed list of requirements on appearance including: long skirts, uncut hair worn styled up on our heads, not hanging around our faces; long sleeves, no bare skin showing on our legs, high necklines, and nothing that fitted tightly. (Except the concealed panty hose of course.) I played violin in an orchestra, in which we had to wear hose and heels at least two inches high. We would be addressed and receive demerits if our appearance didn't meet the rules. I had taken to wearing patterned hosiery; eventually the women's dean said they'd decided to make a rule against fishnets, even though I was the only one wearing them.

I was very much a virgin, and extremely naive. When I began college, I only even had a vague idea of the physical aspects of male arousal, and even my own sexuality, though present, was basically latent. Naturally, there were separate dorms, which faced each other across a courtyard. My room was on the far side, which faced the city and overlooked the dumpsters. I usually left my blinds open, and remember talking to James once on the phone while he stood below my asking to see my breasts. They were rather splendid, large and full at that stage in my life; most of my weight was in my bust: five foot nine, size eight dress, bra size of 34DD.

This school required students to get approval and basically sign papers in order to date. Physical contact was not permitted on campus by any couple, and even off-campus supposedly you had to write up a list of limits and abide by them. Students were allowed up to three friendship dates, which James and I utilized. One of them included going to a upscale mall, where I tried on a variety of dressy outfits and he took pictures. Instead of eating supper, this was followed by him humping me in the car, fully clothe, of course. His stain never did come out of that long, green satin skirt, so I eventually threw it out in the free clothes pile in the dorm. A male and female student were otherwise not supposed to be off campus together alone, but instead of going on "dating rules" we just included at least one other student on our outings or occasionally managed to meet up somewhere. We were just friends.

There were a series of incidents that triggered my "sexual awakening", including benign french kisses and embraces with a passing boyfriend, and being sexually touched, initially against my will, by a night guard of the college. But orgasm was new to me.

I had started wearing thin fabric bras instead of push-up bras, as I'd realized when hugging, I could get more sensation that way. It was also quite amusing to watch reactions to my nipples showing through my clothes, which happened with increasing frequency the last two years of college. We had permission to cook in the home-economics kitchen, and I remember the first time anyone stimulated my breasts. James and I were cooking there, he touched my nipples through my shirt. I didn't even understand the sensation. But I my legs went so weak I couldn't stand by myself, and all I knew was I wanted to pull him down on me and feel something inside. Considering the circumstances, that didn't happen then. There was no lock on the door, and a window to the street. Getting caught would mean instant expulsion, and by then, I wanted to simply be able to graduate and get on with my life, so it wasn't worth the risk. Not with him.

One of the most amusing encounters I remember, happened in the campus library. Since we were forbidden to watch movies in our rooms, students would meet there to "study" and watch DVDs. One afternoon, James and I enjoyed an innocent French drama about a boy and a red ballon, drank coffee, and ate Skittles. At some point during the movie, he apparently had gotten aroused sitting next to me and came up with the urge to smell and tasted my vagina, so handed me a kleenex and sent me to the restroom to collect some "essence". I thought it sounded a little crazy, but it made me feel warm and tingly between my legs, and I was entertained watching him taste it, seeing his eyes light up. Obviously, it had an effect, because the next thing I knew he put my hand on the crotch of his dress slacks, under the table where were sitting in a corner, and wrapped my fingers around his hard penis. He told me to squeeze it and rub it, and even though I wasn't sure what I was doing, I was happy to oblige. It didn't take very long until he found relief, and exploded semen all over his boxers and trousers. Unfortunately for him, by that time, he was running late for his evening class. So off he went, uncomfortably soaked, to sit for an hour in a classroom full of other Bible college students and learn about child evangelism.

Later that night, he went out and bought me my favorite tofu teriyaki burrito. I think that was a gift of gratitude; it was delicious.

There was one afternoon, nearing graduation, we'd met up at a public library parking lot. He knew I was headed there, and since he was living in a state of sexual desperation, followed me. I was wearing an ankle length, printed Bohemian skirt, which meant I wasn't wearing the usual panty hose, as I could get around the rules with trouser socks. He reached down through my waistband while sitting next to me on a curb, and was amused to find I was wasn't wearing panties either. I usually shaved or waxed, since I prefer smooth and clean. That amused him as well. It wasn't long before I got in my car, and he climbed in next to me, lifted my skirt, unhooked my bra, and began to alternate between rubbing my clitoris and gently twisting my very alert nipples. In a matter of moments, I climaxed once, but wanted so much more. He asked me to follow him to a large, secluded park across town, but my cousin had taken off work to go shopping with me, I was already late, unsure what excuse I could give. Besides, I really didn't want to lose my virginity and possibly get pregnant with this man, I had other plans for my life. So I found a degree of control, and drove away, burning for everything, aching for more, longing for fullness inside, the penetration I'd yet to know. Remarkably, my extreme arousal lasted long enough that I experienced a type of delayed ejaculation while walking around a store later, the warm liquid rushing down my thighs, surprising me. Like an aftershock.