I fell in love with my V-Card swiper pretty closely after our first kiss.

Seems crazy, I know.

In my defense it took him five weeks to kiss me. While the lust for his lips was torturous, I started to fall for him based on personal interactions. He had such a way about him that felt like home. His smile with each hello was so welcoming and comforting. Someone who was once a stranger to me was becoming someone who knew everything about me. Conversations flowed with ease, and the nerves that normally come with the early stages of dating completely disappeared. After our first kiss and knowing what it was like to feel his heartbeat against my own, I was screwed. With every touch, kiss and night I created a home for my heart with him.

Nights with him would easily turn into mornings. His tongue circling mine, while his hands trickled down my bare spine. I started to crave his entire being. I would fantasize what it would be like to feel him all around me, completely engulfed.

Everyone gets horny, everyone thinks about sex now and then. For me though, it was far and few between.

I had waited to have sex because I wasn’t emotionally ready. Then I was waiting for someone special. I found a few “right” guys, but still didn’t want to have sex with them. Not until him. The lust I felt for him was a long, slow tease.

At the end of October, I invited him over to my apartment for the night. He was out of town the week prior, so I was eager to see him… and touch him. All of my roommates were out of town, so I had an agenda for the evening.

He loved my body in lace, so I put on a red lace thong underneath.

I couldn’t wait to find out what Cosmo and everyone else was talking about. But, I honestly don’t even remember him walking in the door or our hello kiss. Now my mind only focuses on one vivid memory, “I have to move to Pennsylvania. I leave end of December.”

I could hardly see the edges of his soft smile and leafy-green eyes through my blurry vision. His lips were moving, but the words were nothing but a quiet hum in my ears. My brain was a broken record stuck on the repeating the words. We were alone in my bedroom, the house was silent. The soft white light of my lamp illuminated the four grey walls that surrounded us. I could see through the blinds of my large window, and night was beginning to fall. There was a small cut on his index finger; I traced the divot in his skin lightly as I processed everything in my head. I asked questions following the who, what, where, when, why, forum. Trying to process the news he had just told me. His company was relocating him to a small town in Pennsylvania, and he was set to leave Milwaukee December 22^nd.  His East coast accent rang clear in my ears when he said “Milwaukee”. My heart was heavy and body felt cold. What I intended be a night I would always remember, definitely remained that way, but not for the reasons I wanted.

His face was somber, and I could see the pain he was in. He let go of my hand, and started to pick at his cuticles. He told me how sorry he was and I knew he meant it. It wasn’t his fault, and I couldn’t be mad at him. What felt like hours but was only a matter of seconds passed by and his eyes were locked on me. He was studying me, watching every move. Both of us frozen still from the emotions running through our minds. I’m sure he watched my heart break in that moment, shatter across the wood floor of my bedroom. My chest was tight with each breath I took, there wasn’t enough air in the room. He broke out of his statue like trance as he reached out to pull me down onto the bed, and in a robotic motion I laid down next to him.

I surrendered.

I woke up the next morning with his arms  wrapped around me like my favorite blanket. His skin was cold to the touch and his arm hairs stuck up slightly from the chill of the air.  Lying there we fit together like two puzzle pieces, and I never wanted them to come undone.  When he left that morning, I still had no doubt in my mind that I loved him and he was the one I wanted to be with for the first time. Every logical part of my being told me not to sleep with the man moving across the country in two months, but I didn’t listen. Something inside of me knew that it had to be him.

To this day, I don’t regret losing my sacred virginity to a man who moved away not long after. Though it wasn’t exactly what I had wanted for myself, the night itself was everything I could’ve asked for… and more.

I wasn’t kidding about this column being rated R, so prep yourself for next time. The story of my first time starts with black, lacey panties…

XOXO,

College Virgin