Teaching His Virgin

“For being a virgin, you are quite skilled.”

My own voice sounds weird to my ears, but I ignore it. My head and heart are heavy with lust for her and maybe something more.

“I’ll give you every outfit in this room, in exchange for your virginity.”

Britney nods and lets me guide her over to one of the empty couches.

As I lay her down on her back, I think I hear her murmur, “I would give it to you even without clothes,” but I don’t ask her about it. I simply pull her legs apart and let her get a good look at me and how I am ready to take her.

“I’m taking your virginity now,” I say, and thrust myself inside her.

For this initial taste, I’m gentle.

I’m soft.

I wiggle myself around inside her, to make sure I’m not hurting her unnecessarily. I wait to fill her with my length and gently ease myself forward. I let her receive me the way I was savoring her.

By the noises she’s making, she’s in pleasure and pain equally and can’t decide which she feels more. She whimpers and shivers as I move further inside of her. I comfort her with some stimulation to her clit and her nipples from over the corset. I do so to offset the stimulation I know must be coursing inside her.

This seems to relax her some, and I continue forward. I plunged deeper, rocking myself over her. As I do, I see that she has her eyes closed.

Her glasses are acutely askew, and she has a bright, blazing blush on her cheeks. My breath catches, seeing this, and as I hit the maximum distance I can go inside of her, I start thrusting. Slow and steady at first, but I quickly lose that control.

In no time, it devolves into quick, dominating thrusts. Hungrily, I run my cock along the length of her pussy. I savor and map every inch.

I commend to memory every feeling of her walls. I’m awash in her warmth. I can barely think. She’s so wet. And more than that, she’s taking up residence in my mind and in my heart and soul, places I never let women tread.

Britney is moaning and gasping in time with my movements. I feel her tightening around me, so I use whatever brain cells I have active at the moment to tell my fingers to go down to her clit and start rubbing. My fingers find her bud in no time. I start stroking and teasing, knowing I haven’t got long.

Good news for me, though, Britney doesn’t have long either. The moment I start touching her, she starts to rise up off the couch. It’s unconscious, what she does.

But it has the effect of undoing the lid I have on my control and I spill my second load straight into her. Right as she rises up in time to her orgasm, so do I. Pump after pump rushes into her, and I know this isn’t going to be another one-night stand.

I’m going to be addicted to her long after, and not just in a place like this, but in my regular life as well.

As Britney regains her breath and collects her thoughts from her foggy brain, I ask her, “Do you want to come visit my shop? I have other designs there I would love to get your opinion on, Britney.”

Britney turns her warm eyes to me.

“I’d love to see your shop and your other designs, Kace.”

I fix her glasses for her and help her get up off the couch. To my surprise, she wants to stay in the clothes I just fucked her in, so I help her put on her shoes, grab the rest of the clothes (including her original dress), and we leave the room together. From there, we head out into the night, but it’s no longer chilly or lonely. Not to her or me.

Epilogue

Britney

Yes, you just agreed to go with him.

Yes, you just said to him you didn’t want to change back into your own clothes.

Walking through the club with Kace like this, I’m surprised when I don’t feel self-conscious in this revealing dress. I’m surprised that I feel confident and powerful. I feel like a different woman. Like I have always belonged in clothing like this, and someone was just keeping me hidden.

You were keeping yourself hidden. And you are a different woman now. You are experiencing what you have always said to and about others — that clothes give you a new, exciting “self.”

I don’t want to go back to wearing those regular dresses. I don’t want to go back to hiding myself, even if I am a university student. Even if I am a fashion designer in training, I want to go to classes wearing Kace’s work.

I want to go in front of my teachers and challenge them. I want to rub this in their faces and watch their reactions. I want to make my graduate thesis about how clothing has to liberate, not just cover.