My First Time

Saving Ourselves For Marriage: Part 3

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Saving Ourselves For Marriage: Part 3
More Valentines Days.

Based on a post by Architect 23 94, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.



The guilt provoked by Mr. Jacobs' observation was fleeting,

and Emily texted me 3 days later, "Can we have another Valentine's Day
tonight?"

It was clear that the charade was over, and 'Valentine's

Day' was her chosen euphemism for spending less-than-wholesome time together.
Our relationship had become a dichotomy of two very different and
compartmentalized romances. One of a pure and honorable public courtship, and
the other of two young lovers clandestinely exploring physical passions.

"Yes, 7?"

"See you then."

This time I locked the side door while we were closing the

store, then unlocked it for Emily after Mr. Jacobs left.

I thought about our new paradigm while sautéing some chicken

then slicing it over the top of two Caesar salads. We were no longer pretending
that our physical explorations were isolated happenstantial occurrences. The
primary purpose of the night was clear, and I decided I might as well plan for
it.

An erection was imminent, and I decided to change clothes

rather than risk being painfully bound-up in my jeans again. I rummaged through
drawers and hanging clothes, carefully considering the functional benefits of
each piece while also not wanting to appear too overtly presumptuous.
Ultimately, I decided on a pair of loose-fitting linen pants, and a nice
front-pocket t-shirt.

I think Emily had the same idea. She arrived wearing a

well-coordinated athletic outfit that was very fashionable, but very out of
character for her. She wore white running shoes with low-cut ankle socks, a
well-fitted white Lululemon zip-down hoodie, and baby-blue Lululemon yoga
leggings that ended a few inches above her ankles.

I had seen Emily in a variety of very attractive dresses and

skirts, but nothing that revealed the shape of her body like those leggings.
They fit like a second skin and clearly showed every soft curve of her legs and
butt. The sight was incredibly sexy, and I stared unabashedly as she hung up
her winter coat and came to greet me in the kitchen.

We met in an all-consuming embrace and I lifted her into my

arms. She added support by wrapping her legs around my hips and we began
hungrily kissing, tongues eagerly intertwining.

I was not interested at all in the salads sitting on the

counter and carried Emily over to the sofa. Her legs loosened their grip on me
and, with our mouths still joined, I bent forward to place her on the floor.
She guided me backward into a slouched seating position and climbed over me to
sit straddled over my left thigh, in the same way we had a few days ago.

As each second passed, our desires grew and inhibitions

loosened. In the midst of our urgent kissing, Emily began slowly and deliberately
rocking her pelvis on my leg, and my hands boldly slid over her hips to
encourage their motions.

The erotic scenario brought physical sensations on a level

that I had never experienced before. I could feel my erection obscenely tenting
the thin fabric of my pants, and my balls hanging heavily between my legs. Both
were hyper-sensitive to every subtle movement, and my completely engorged cock
throbbed with every beat of my pulse.

I loved feeling the motions of Emily's hips in my hands but

yearned for more direct contact than I could have through the thick cloth of
her hoodie. My large hands clumsily attempted to slide under the snuggly
stretched tails without success.

Sensing my intentions, Emily pulled away from our kissing

and maintained eye contact while she sat upright on my thigh. Without a spoken
word, she unzipped and discarded the hoodie to reveal a thin, strappy sports
bra matching the baby-blue color of her leggings.

Her eyes watched mine as they surveyed the amazing sight

before me. The bra concealed two compressed mounds that appeared proportionate
in size to her very petite frame, with subtle curves of cleavage extending
above its swooping neckline. My eyes soaked in her feminine form above and
below the bra, absorbing the softly toned body and flawless flushed skin
revealed to me for the very first time.

She watched as I admired her in amazement, "You are so

beautiful."

Without saying anything, she laid herself back on top of me

and our mouths passionately met again. My hands went to her hips, feeling every
curve through the thin fabric leggings and directing her to resume rocking on
my leg.

She did, and her motions quickly evolved from rocking into a

firm rhythmic grinding. Shortly thereafter, our kissing stopped and we pressed
our foreheads together, both breathing heavily with mouths inches apart.

I could feel heat building on my thigh, emanating from both

her legging covered folds and the friction of her intensifying pressure. Our
eyes locked, Emily placed her hands on my chest and pushed her torso upright to
adjust the angle of her grinding. She continued supporting herself on my chest
while my hands slid up the sides of her thin waist and intuitively palmed her
bra covered breasts, kneading them the best I could through the restrictive fabric.

Emily intensified her grinding and the combined stimulation

sent her to a new level, eyes rolling backward and body tremoring while she
lost control. One hand still supported herself on my chest, but the other
unconsciously dropped downward and grasped my fabric covered cock.

The mere touch of her hand triggered my own reaction,

tightening my balls and soaking my linen pants with copious surges of cum. I
looked down in horror to see the messy results of my eruption, but also saw a
large darkening blue circle in the crotch of Emily's leggings.

I looked upward from the sights and smells of our

fornication and met Emily's eyes. We silently stared at each other for several
minutes, telepathically sharing a complex and confusing mix of lust, shock, and
guilt.

Eventually, Emily dismounted my leg and did her best to make

herself presentable before leaving. We said goodbye with a timid hug, uneaten
salads still on the kitchen counter.

Guilt.

We both knew we crossed a sinful line that night, and I

think we were both scared. It wasn't sex in the traditional sense of the word,
and we were technically both still virgins, but our actions were clearly
outside the acceptable boundaries of Biblical purity and integrity. I know I
was scared for several reasons but, most of all, scared that our relationship
may have been permanently damaged. I wasn't the spiritual leader she wanted me
to be, and I wasn't strong enough to maintain her purity.

Over the next 12 hours, I vacillated between wanting to

address the issue head-on and wanting to bury my head in the sand to ignore it.
Around noon the next day, I manned-up enough to do the right thing and texted
Emily, "Can you stop by the store this afternoon?"

"Yes. What's up?"

"I think we should talk about last night."

My phone rang a few seconds later with a voice call. It was

Emily.

"Hi Michael."

"Hey."

"I can stop by the store, but I'm not ready to talk

about last night."

I started to protest, "I'm so sorry. I'm worried I

ruined;”

She interrupted firmly but compassionately, "Stop!; Michael,

I love you. Nothing that happened last night changed that. I wanted everything
that happened just as much as you did, if not more. You are not to blame. If
anybody, I was the instigator."

"But I;”

She interjected again, "Michael!; I have a lot of

conflicting feelings and I'm not ready to talk yet. I'll let you know when I
am. Until then, please know that I love you and I don't want this to be an
awkward thing between us. It's just something that we need to figure out
together."

"Ok, I love you too."

We ended our phone call, and my phone chimed a text alert a

few seconds later, "I'll stop by around 4. I love you."

I typed back, "See you then. I love you too."

Emily did stop by the store that day and it was surprisingly

relaxed and comfortable. We talked about current happenings with school and our
friends, just like we had during any of her past social visits to the store.
Mr. Jacobs was there and even commented how he enjoyed Emily's visits and
seeing us together, to which we both smiled in appreciation.

Vivid Dreams.

The 'public courtship' portion of our relationship continued

as normal over the next days and weeks, spending time together as we always
had, though I was admittedly self-conscious and sheepish during Sunday
afternoon dinners at her parents' house.

I mentally declared the end of 'Valentine's Day' and prayed

constantly for the health of our relationship, patiently waiting for Emily to
be ready to talk. My determination for future integrity was strong and
steadfast; for about a week. After that, occasional flashbacks of passion and
physical pleasure began creeping into my thoughts, and slowly started eroding
my resolve. Several nights, I awoke from very vivid and unwholesome dreams with
painful throbbing erections, effectively eliminating any remaining willpower I
may have had.

Coincidentally, about 3-weeks after our night of debauchery,

I had just woken up from a night of graphic dreams when my phone chimed with an
early-morning text from Emily.

"Valentine's Day tonight?"

I had little resistance to the idea while lying in bed with

a rock-hard erection, but still felt the need to offer at least a minimal
façade of reluctance.

"Are you sure?"

She replied immediately, "Yes, I miss V-day."

"Me too. 7?"

"See you then!"

My anticipation escalated exponentially as time slowly

ticked forward and I went about my typical daily activities. I needed a
distraction from watching the clock and soaked in some sun between classes and
work by walking to the grocery store.

It happened to be an unseasonably warm April day with

temperatures in the upper 70s, and the town was alive with people emerging from
winter hibernation. Students studied on blankets and played lawn games in the
campus quad, while an abundance of bikers and joggers overtook the local streets
and sidewalks.

After Mr. Jacobs and I closed the store, I went upstairs to

find the apartment was sweltering. I opened the front windows and quickly
changed into a t-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting breathable gym shorts. The
gentle breeze slowly brought indoor temperatures down as I assembled two salads
using a mix of spring greens, grilled chicken, dried cherries, candied pecans,
gorgonzola cheese, and a raspberry vinaigrette.

Emily arrived promptly at 7 o'clock wearing a very cute

little sundress and white designer sneakers. The pastel mint-green dress was
made of a light-weight linen fabric and had a fluttering bottom hem that ended
a few inches above her knees. Thin spaghetti straps crisscrossed over her
exposed shoulder blades and reconnected to the dress fabric midway down her
back, low enough for me to recognize she couldn't be wearing a bra. The dress
wasn't overly revealing by most standards but was definitely more adventurous
than Emily's typically modest outfits.

"Wow, you look incredible!"

She gave me a flirtatious smile and said, "I'm glad you

approve. I was thinking about you when I bought it."

I responded with a teasing, "Oh really;” and

pulled her into my arms for a hello kiss that turned into four or five.

Breaking our kisses, I pointed at the bowls on the counter

and said, "Let's eat before we; get too distracted."

Emily laughed and we sat at the kitchen table to eat our

salads, chatting like the best friends we had become. Conversation flowed
easily despite our recent complexities and was testament that our relationship
was grounded and true. I felt closer to her than ever.

When finished, we both stood and placed our respective

dishes in the kitchen sink. Emily turned to step away, but I quickly grabbed
her by the waist and she squealed in surprise when I lifted her to sit on the
edge of the counter. I stood between her legs, gazed into her eyes, and
proclaimed from the depth of my heart, "I love you Emily Fulton."

I immediately pressed my lips against hers and she responded

by wrapping her arms around my neck and clutching her legs around my waist. The
slow, deep, passionate kisses that followed were an honest and true expression
of our pure love, and nothing less.

Those first kisses filled with gentle romantic passion

gradually evolved into more eager desire, our tongues exploring each other's
mouths and searching for a greater depth of joining. I wrapped my arms around
Emily's waist and lifted her from the counter, her arms and legs clutching me
tight.

She giggled playfully as I collapsed backward on the sofa,

her landing on top of me, straddled over my lap. Our kissing continued with her
body pressed fully against mine, my hands roaming her back and enjoying the
soft skin exposed by the open-back dress.

Emily occasionally shifted the weight of her hips from side

to side as we made out. I sensed that maybe the position was uncomfortable for
her, and asked between kisses, "Are you ok?"

She sat upright on my lap and reached for the bottom of her

dress, "I'm fine, the dress is just bunched up and I can't move."

She planted her knees on either side of my lap and lifted

upward to pull the dress out from underneath herself, revealing a quick glimpse
of white low-rise bikini-style panties. At the same time, I took the
opportunity to reach into my shorts and adjust my fully engorged cock to a more
comfortable position, pointing the swollen head toward my stomach and utilizing
the elastic waistband of my shorts to hold it in place.

Emily watched intently as I adjusted myself then momentarily

studied the resulting bulge before pressing herself back against me. My length
was firmly sandwiched between us and the feel of her body against mine was an
indescribable new experience, even though it was through a few layers of
fabric.

As we renewed our make-out session, Emily was enjoying the

feel of my cock pressing into her stomach and slowly began inching her way up
my body. When her mons came to rest over the base of my shaft, she began slowly
rolling her hips forward in an effort to gain better contact with her
panty-covered pussy. After repeated attempts without the desired effect, she
momentarily pulled away from our kissing and very purposely shifted further
upward to place her womanly heat squarely on the middle of my shaft.

She intently rocked her pelvis forward and backward,

nestling my girth between her folds as much as the cotton barrier would allow,
then increased her movement to slide up and down the length of the shaft. My
hands instinctively moved to Emily's hips to reinforce her motions, then more
boldly slid to cup and squeeze her ass.

The physics of her motions, and my erection's desire to

stand upright, worked in concert to move the elastic waistband downward from
where it had secured my cock against my stomach. The exposure was hidden from view
by the hem of her sundress, but I easily distinguished the new sensation of her
warm, wet cotton panties rubbing directly on the sensitive underside of my
shaft.

We gazed lustfully into each other's eyes, heavily inhaling

and exhaling, as Emily sat upright and wantonly pleasured herself on my length
and girth. The movements pulled at the fabric of her sundress, rhythmically
becoming taut with each cycling motion and imprinting her stiff nipples through
the thin fabric. The temptation was too much, and my hands slid up the sides of
her torso to cover her breasts through the dress.

Emily kept her eyes locked on mine when she brushed my hands

away, then slipped the thin spaghetti straps off her shoulders allowing the top
of the dress to fall away and pool around her waist. She continued grinding on
my cock and watched intently as I took in the sight of her naked breasts for
the first time. The perky mounds were in perfect proportion to her tiny frame
and jostled slightly with each of her pelvic thrusts.

My fixation was interrupted by the longing in her voice,

"Touch me Michael."

The luxuriously tender pillows conformed to the curvature of

my hands, slightly puffy areolas and hardened nipples pressing into my palms. I
kneaded them with fascination as Emily hastened her pelvic motions and
vigorously crushed our genitals together with all her body weight. The product
of her arousal copiously soaking through the thin panties and generously
lubricating our 'dry' mating.

I cupped her breasts with my hands and squeezed them such

that her nipples were gently pinched between my thumbs and forefingers.

The erotic sensations sent both of us over the edge. Emily's

movements on my shaft became erratic and her entire body began trembling in the
throes of orgasm. Simultaneously, my heavily swollen balls constricted and a
torrent of cum surged through my cock, pumping stream after stream of milky
fluid into the sundress that still draped over our joined mid-sections.

Emily collapsed onto my chest and laid motionless, only

rising and falling with the movements of my chest as we both attempted to catch
our breath. Once our breathing slowed, she spoke somewhat exhaustedly,
"You didn't let me answer you earlier. I love you too, Michael
Walker."

We laid together in post-orgasmic bliss for several minutes,

lightly kissing and caressing. The repercussions weren't immediate like they
were a few weeks before, but they did come.

We were both hit with the carnal reality of the situation

when Emily climbed off me and we saw the front of her sundress completely
soaked with a combination of our sexual fluids. It shouldn't have been a
surprise, but the lewdly soiled dress was a graphic trigger for our guilt and
shame.

We didn't have any way of cleaning and drying the dress in a

reasonable amount of time, so we placed it in a grocery bag for her to take
back to the dorm. Luckily, we had a small selection of women's gardening
clothes in the hardware store, so Emily wrapped herself in a towel and we went
down to the second floor, requisitioning a pair of women's overalls and a
t-shirt.

It was better than nudity, but the ill-fitting clothing was

an obvious sign that something was wrong, and it wouldn't be difficult for
friends to figure out what was going on. We just hoped we could get her back to
the dorm without someone noticing.

I led the way, walking a fair distance ahead of Emily and

giving a signal behind my back if I saw someone approaching. On my cue, she
would duck behind a tree, shrub, building, or other form of cover until they
passed.

Our system worked well, but it could only go so far. Men

weren't allowed in the women's dorm, so she would have to make the last leg of
the journey on her own. We peered through the glass entryway and only saw the
front desk student-worker who happened to be distracted with an iPad and
earbuds. Emily made a break for it, quickly opening the door and scampering
through the lobby until I lost sight of her.

I lingered outside the dorm for what seemed like forever

before receiving a text, "Made it. Had to hide in the stairway for a
couple minutes. Nobody saw me."

"Ok, good."

The adrenaline of sneaking Emily home faded as I walked back

to the apartment, and it was replaced by the oppressive weight of guilt and
remorse. Not only had I yielded to weakness and temptation, but we had broken
even the most liberal definitions of Christian integrity and purity. Certainly
privately, and almost publicly.

Overwhelmed by Guilt.

I skipped my classes the next morning and laid in bed,

wallowing in my guilt. Emily must have been doing the same, because I received
a text from one of her friends asking if she was ok. She wasn't in class and
wasn't answering her phone.

I called and she answered immediately, though with a somber

voice, "Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"I didn't feel like going."

"Me either."

"Emily, we have to talk about Valentine's Day. We both

know what we're doing is wrong; we can't keep going on this roller coaster of
euphoria and guilt."

She cried, and spoke in a trembling voice between sniffles,

"I know; but; it doesn't feel wrong; when; we're together."

She was right and I didn't have a good retort other than

'the Bible says,' so I j

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