Biker's Virgin

We stared at each other for a moment.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said slowly, breaking the hypnotic silence.

“Then why did you come?” I asked, challengingly.

He looked down for a moment. “Because I’m weak.”

“You’re a fool,” I whispered. “This moment is six years in the making.”

He seemed to agree because he took a step towards me. Then he stopped abruptly, as though shocked by his own presumption.

I could taste every single daydream I had ever had about Tristan. They were separate little jewels that I’d held close to heart in all those years of absence. Was it possible to fall in love at first sight? I wondered. It certainly seemed like that had been the case for me.

I didn’t care to decipher what it all meant, however. For now, I just wanted to be with Tristan. I wanted to put aside the daydreams and experience the real thing. I wanted to have something real to hold onto if I ever found myself on my own again.

I reached behind to the back of my dress and undid my zipper. Then slowly and deliberately, I pulled the dress down off my shoulders and pushed it down from my waist until I was standing before him in nothing but my black lace bra and panties. His eyes caressed my body, looking over every curve and every line as though he were an artist studying his canvas. I reached up to unhook my bra.

“Don’t,” Tristan said, and my hand froze over the hook.

For a second, I thought he was going to hand me my dress and walk away. But instead, he approached me slowly until his face was only inches from mine. Then he put his arms around me and unhooked my bra himself.

He pulled it off and gazed down at my breasts. One hand reached out tentatively, and he cupped my right breast in his hand before circling the nipple. I felt a moan on my lips, but I suppressed it.

He pulled me towards him so that my breasts were pressed up against his chest. Then he started kissing me again as his hands snaked down my body. As the kiss grew deeper and more desperate, I felt Tristan hook a finger around the thin strap of my underwear and yank it hard, pulling it free from my skin. Moisture pooled between my legs at the gesture, and my knees went weak.

We fell back onto my bed, with Tristan lying on top of me. His weight was comforting as I clung to him, wondering what it would feel like when he was inside me. He seemed to be thinking the same thing because he started stripping.

I reached up and helped him pull his shirt off. Once his pants were off, I could feel how hard he was already. I reached down and encircled his cock with my hand. He gave a little sigh, and I squeezed a little harder. I saw his mouth turn into a circle of pleasure, so I started moving my hand up and down the length of him.

His cock was so huge that had he been any other man, I might have been a little scared. Had he been anyone else, I might have thought twice about this.

But I was past feeling scared or nervous or worried. I was past self-consciousness and awkwardness. This was no daydream, and I didn’t want to waste this moment by getting inside my own head.

I could feel his hands between my legs, getting me ready and I started to feel the confession rise to my lips. No, I thought, I can’t tell him. But my thoughts could not be quelled. I knew I had to tell him if I wanted to continue.

He was breathing deeply. His hands were raking over my body, and his lips were on my neck, my breasts, and my stomach. I could sense the urgency of his desire and knew he was ready to enter me. I could just feel the tip of his penis between my legs when I blurted out the secret I had held close to heart since my adolescence.

“I’m a virgin.”

I knew he hadn’t heard me. He was too turned on, too intoxicated by the moment, but I needed him to know before it happened. I didn’t know why it was important to me, it just was.

“Tristan,” I whispered again, and this time he looked up at me.

“Yes?” His voice was gravelly.

“I’m a virgin.”

His expression didn’t change, but I thought I noticed a flicker of something in his eyes. “That…can’t be,” he said at last.

“It’s true,” I confirmed.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to know,” I said simply. “I wanted to be truthful.”

“Should we be doing this?” he asked. I could feel his body tremble against mine.

“Yes,” I said, with certainty. “We should.”