Charlotte's Conversion (closed for Iwasagoodgirl)

I finished dressing and took a quick look in the mirror. Every community had its style and this was not as unusual as some. There tended to be a lot of black and a lot of leather on Fridays at the Club, but I found that too cliché for my taste. I had chosen a linen suit, with a pale cotton shirt and silk tie. On my tall frame, it would make me stand out and that was useful. Some of the women who came to the Club were looking to be overwhelmed, taken, dominated, but not by some hairy brute. Mine was a more sophisticated image, and one I enjoyed.

I was putting on my watch when I heard a knock at the door. I wasn't expecting anyone, so peered out a window to see a young woman standing on my stoop. I went to the door and opened it, regarding her curiously, "Hello." Several things struck me immediately. Her attire was not particularly flattering, rather loose, if functional. That was a shame, because it seemed she had a nice body beneath. She wore no makeup, but had a very naturally pretty face. And, she was carrying a book in a zippered leather case.

This could either be interesting, or quite tedious...

Being raised in a religious family had its advantages but as a girl I found it stifling. I was wrapped in cotton wool and all my life was controlled. My Dad was an evangelist, highly regarded in the Christian community and I was his prize asset. One day he and my mother would choose my husband, probably the son of another evangelist and my job would be to give him children and raise them the same way.

Everything would have progressed that way if I had not loved sport so much. At every opportunity I’d join my friends on the race track, on the tennis court and in the swimming pool. One day when I was twelve my mother called me to one side and explained a few things to me. “Charlotte you are growing up very fast and need to prepare to be a good Christian wife and mother. Your breasts are just beginning to develop and before long you will begin your periods.” Of course I knew, I learned it in biology. But I was not prepared for what she said next “It is essential you remain ‘intact’” I frowned “Your hymen is in danger of being broken by your sports activities.” I found myself blushing but she continued “As a Christian you must be seen to be pure and untouched on your wedding night.”

“But Mother” I interrupted “It will break when I use a tampon.”

“Which is why, until you are married, you will use towels. Nothing must be inserted there until you are married.” That was all six years ago and I’ve been careful and obedient ever since although I still played tennis.

On my eighteenth birthday I was commissioned as a ‘Street Evangelist’, I was sent on a residential course and trained to ‘spread the word’ door to door. After the course ended we were sent out in pairs and I was able to prove myself.

One of my friends at church, Sandra, fell into what we considered to be the ‘wrong crowd’ and while I was sent away to study she found herself pregnant. My parents said she should be left alone until she repented but I didn’t agree. I thought I knew where she lived so I decided to visit her with my Bible and tell her I still valued her friendship.

Knocking on the door I thought I saw the curtain move before a tall rugged handsome man opened the door. His eyes seemed to explore me and it dawned on me, mistakenly, that he might be Sandra’s lover. “Hello” he said in a voice that seemed to have what my mother called ‘something of the night’.

“Hello” I said nervously as I felt his eyes disarm me “I … I …” Blushing because I felt out of my depth “I’ve … I’ve come to see Sandra. Is she in?”

The blush to your cheeks piqued my curiosity, and gave me pause to wonder about the colors of the rest of your body, hidden by your unflattering clothing. "I am afraid not," I lied, "but you are welcome to come inside and wait for her."

I saw you hesitate, and stood back from the door a little. I gestured with my hand, "Please come in. I am sure she will be right along."

I smiled at you entered the small foyer. I closed the door, standing close enough that you could doubtless smell my cologne. "This way," I gestured towards the living room. I casually watched as you entered the leaf green room, lined with books and art. Leather furniture abounded, each piece with stories to be told.

"May I get you something to drink? Some wine? A cup of tea perhaps?" I asked.

You agreed to tea, and I smiled, "excellent choice, I have my own blend. I will be right back."

I went to the kitchen and put on water to boil. As I put several scoopfuls of tea and a special blend of herbs into the strainer, I wondered what you thought of the contents of the living room. I returned with a tray with the tea pot, cups and accessories.

You sat down in a large wingback chair, looking rather tense. I poured a cup for both of us and asked what you wanted with it. I added honey to yours, then gave you your cup. I put some cream in mine and settled back on the couch. "So, how do you know Sandra?"

"I am afraid not, but you are welcome to come inside and wait for her." For a moment I was glad, I had found the right place but Sandra was out. Who was this man? Sandra’s lover? If he was I could see why she fell for him. As soon as that evil thought crossed my mind I froze with shock. No doubt the devil put it there because good clean Christian girls didn’t entertain such thoughts. I hesitated, stepped back and tried to think of an excuse. As I did this man gestured with his hand and said "Please come in. I am sure she will be right along."

What should I do? I’d never been alone in a house with a strange man before and I knew I should say ‘No” but Sandra had fallen in to sin and maybe I was the one chosen by God to bring her back. After hesitating I smiled, nodded and entered. I very rarely wore dresses preferring dungarees or track suites but today I had put on my long flowing cream dress and my sandals. Not very flattering but I didn’t dress to impress but for comfort. It was a tight foyer and I felt a little flustered as he, whatever his name was, brushed past me giving me a whiff of his aftershave.

He guided me to the living room filled with books and CDs and offered me a choice of wine or tea. Alcohol had never touched my lips so I opted for the latter. “Excellent choice, I have my own blend. I will be right back” I sat down in a large wing back chair immediately conscious that the top two buttons of my dress were open as well as slit in my skirt section exposing my long thighs. Feeling like a whore I tried to think of an excuse to leave when he returned with my tea. After adding honey to mine and cream to his own he asked me “So, how do you know Sandra?”

“I’ve known Sandra all my life, we are … or were … members of ‘Christian Outreach’. My … My Father is the evangelist Johnny Lumb or JL as he is known.” We both smiled but I became serious “I’ve come to try to tell her that she is … that she will … “I trailed off before taking a deep breath and blurting out “When she got pregnant she was expelled from the Church. I’m here to tell her she is still loved.”

I noticed he wanted to interrupt but I was on a roll so I grabbed my Bible and opened the zip continuing “And … I want to tell you that God loves you too!” Suddenly blushing I realised I might have over stepped the mark so I gave him time to respond.

I raised an eyebrow at you, "Expelled? For being pregnant?"

I took a sip of my tea and continued, "I had been under the impression that you saw every child as a creation of God, and therefore blessed. Sandra is participating in the act of creation."

I listened to you fumble for words, then raised my hand, "No, don't tell me, she conceived the child outside of wedlock. Have you ever researched the history of marriage? It is a relatively recent innovation and has had quite a track record in the suppression of women. Countless millions have been happily born without it. Look in your old testament. How many concubines did David and Solomon have? And they were God's select. Lot impregnated his daughters and he was held up as a righteous man. And Christ himself was conceived out of wedlock."

I sat back to finish my cup, while you looked me with big eyes, "I dare say, that when you speak to Sandra, if you listen, she will tell you that this has been the most wonderful, spiritual, and holy experience of her life."

The wind is truly blown right out of my sails as you first question the church’s discipline and then show me you have an incredible knowledge of the Bible. “Surely you knew she conceived her child outside of wedlock because … because …” I give myself a sharp kick suddenly realising you cannot be the baby’s father. I see you raise an eyebrow enjoying seeing me struggle but I press on “I’m sorry … I thought you … it was you who made her pregnant. I can see I was wrong. Forgive me please.”

Afraid you might interrupt I try hold the floor so I raise my Bible if only to for a moment divert your eyes from drilling in to me. “You certainly know your Bible. Which church do you attend?”

When I’m nervous I blush and I feel my temperature rising so I try to change the subject “What time did you say Sandra will be home? … I’m sorry … I think I should go”. I stand and say nervously “Th … thank you … for … for the tea.” Now I’m blushing like a tomato “I’ll … see myself out”.

I rose as you rose and set my hand on your arm, "Don't be silly. I am not in the least bit offended and am enjoying our conversation."

You looked down at where my hand was holding your arm. I let go slowly, my eyes passing over the gap left by the open buttons on your dress, and then to your eyes. I smiled, "please, you are more than welcome to stay."

I thought for a second, then continued, "I was going to start preparing dinner, and would appreciate the company. Would you care to join me?"

You seemed to think about this for a time. I offered you my arm, which you slowly took, and led you to the kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable," I said casually.

I opened the refrigerator and pulled out to two bottles of wine. I set about pouring myself a glass and looked over at you, "Jesus turned water into wine. I hardly imagine he would have done so if he thought it was evil."

I could see the wheels turning in your head, "besides, this is quite delightful."

I poured you a bit in a glass and brought it to you, grinning, "trust me, I will cut you off if you get out of control."

Suddenly you stood with me and gently held my arm as you say “Don't be silly. I am not in the least bit offended and am enjoying our conversation”. In my sheltered existence no one but close trusted family and our doctor, a woman Christian doctor had ever touched my body. All sorts of protests and fears raced through my mind but you notice something in my eyes and drop your hand. But next your eyes seek out my cleavage and I get confused sensations. My first is wonderment that any man would want to look there followed by disgust at what was going through your mind then a desire, a wanting you to look and maybe even … then common sense shows me the devil was confusing me. My train of thought was broken by your words “Please, you are more than welcome to stay … I was going to start preparing dinner, and would appreciate the company. Would you care to join me?" I should refuse, a good Christian girl would refuse and I prepare to make my excuses when I remember I’m on a mission to bring Sandra back to Christ and what better opportunity than over a meal. Then you offer me your arm which nervously I accept. You lead me to the kitchen and say” Make yourself comfortable.”

As soon as you start pouring wine I panic but you disarm me by saying “Jesus turned water into wine. I hardly imagine he would have done so if he thought it was evil." I hesitate but you continue “besides, this is quite delightful." You pour me a small glass and say smiling "trust me, I will cut you off if you get out of control."

Holding your gaze I say “It’s part of our discipline, nothing to do with the Bible. We women are only allowed to drink alcohol on our wedding night and after that only with our husband’s permission.” You are obviously an expert in using silence because you say nothing but just keep holding the glass out towards me. I change tack and say “Is there anything I can do for you? … Prepare food, lay the table for the three of us?” Still you hold the glass offering it to me. “Wh … what time do you expect Sandra?” I ask but still you hold the glass. Eventually I accept defeat and take it, hold it to my nose and smell it. “Smells good” I say as I hold the glass to my lips and take a sip. The wine opens my taste buds as well as my mind and I swallow gently “You’re right. It is delicious” I say. “Now … what about Sandra? … Where do you want me? What do you want me to do?”

I take another sip and already the wine is going to my head as I see you again looking at my cleavage but this time I hold your gaze and smile before blushing and drain the glass. Then I find myself saying “I feel like Oliver Twist … Please sir, can I have some more?” I reach out my glass for you to pour some more wine.

I chuckle lightly as I reach over and pinch your cheek, "ohh dearrrr, wasting away are we?"

I take the bottle and bring it to your glass, filling it 2/3 full this time, tantalized by the hints of your body hidden beneath your dress.

As you take another sip, I smile at you, "Well, in my house, we go by my rules. You may eat and drink whatever you like. And for the moment, all I want you to do look beautiful and keep my company while I make dinner."

I turned my attention back to the cutting board, thinking about your other questions. Where do I want you? In my bed, for a start. What do I want you to do? Surrender your obvious virginity. But for the moment, I chopped onions, then set them to sautéing with garlic in a large pan.

I turned to find you watching me, still sipping your wine. You have relaxed in your chair, unconscious of the slit in your skirt showing me delicious lengths of your legs.

As I watch you pour me a glass of wine I notice you are filling it two thirds full. I should object but I don’t. You continue “Well, in my house, we go by my rules. You may eat and drink whatever you like. And for the moment, all I want you to do look beautiful and keep my company while I make dinner.” You are deep in thought but feeling comfortable I had no need to disturb you.

“I don’t think I ought to have any more wine after this” I say “I’m not used to it! Even this small amount is going to my head. If my dad finds out I’ve beem drinking I’ll be confined to my room for six weeks.”

As I follow your eyes I ask “What are you thinking?” Before you can answer my mobile phone rings and I struggle to find it. Finally answering with my number I hear my father’s voice and our conversation goes like this.

Dad: “Hi Charlie”

Me “Hi Dad”

Dad “Where are you?”

Me “I’m at Sandra’s place.”

Dad “You know her home is the gateway to Hell and until she repents we are to have no fellowship with her.”

Me “But that’s why I’m here, I want to bring her home to the fold.”

Dad “That’s not your job. You are to come home at once! Do you hear me?

Me “Yes Dad!”

As the phone goes dead I stand and as I do I spill my wine over my top and some drains down my cleavage. “O NO!” I shout then looking at you ask “What am I to do?” I start crying as I say “He’s ordered me to come home immediately but I can’t! If he smells wine on me I will be severely punished. Yet I have to go home or be named an outcast.” I’m sobbing now wondering what I should do.

I turned the stove off and walked over to you, wrapping my arms around you, and held you while you cried. You stopped for a moment, almost pushing against me. I just held you and felt your arms move to my sides, holding me back, as you started to cry again.

As you did, my mind kept coming back to your father. Where had I heard his name before? I racked my brain, then recalled and smiled.

When you finally calmed down, I said softly, "Its going to be fine. You are not going to be punished or banished, or anything of the sort. We will wash your dress and no one will be the wiser."

You back away sufficiently that you could look at me questioningly. I said with confidence, "and the next time your father calls, let me speak with him. He is hardly as pure as he would like people to think, and just needs to be reminded of his own humanity."

You looked at me as though I had lost my mind. I just chuckled, "trust me, its going to be fine."

I gave you a quick hug, our bodies pressing together again for a moment, then released you, "let's take care of that dress."

I led you down the hall to the bathroom, "there is a robe on the back of the door. Give me your dress and it can wash while we eat."

You entered the bathroom and closed the door behind you. As I heard clothing moving, I noticed that my shirt had become wet with wine from your dress. I removed it and waited for you. The door opened and you stopped, staring at me. Your dress and bra were in your hand, while the silk robe clung to your body, showing delicious curves the dress had hidden. I reached out and took the dress and went to the washroom. I put my shirt and your dress in the washer, taking a moment to touch your bra, before adding it. I started the washer and slipped a shirt on from the stack on the dryer. I walked to the kitchen to find you waiting. The robe was much shorter than your dress, displaying strong, slender legs. And the way it molded to your body made my eyes widen.

I calmed myself for a moment, then went back to the stove, "now, where were we?"

“It’s going to be fine. You are not going to be punished or banished, or anything of the sort. We will wash your dress and no one will be the wiser.” I hesitated as tears fill my eyes again and you continued “and the next time your father calls, let me speak with him. He is hardly as pure as he would like people to think, and just needs to be reminded of his own humanity.” What on earth were you on about? My father was a good man, God’s servant, how dare you say anything against him? I was so confused but then you held me and in that brief moment I felt safe yet challenged as a tingling came to my private parts, a feeling I had never had before. Did you notice? I hoped not as I pushed against you realising the devil gave me those feelings. You chuckled and said “Trust me, it’s going to be fine.” Again you hold me and I begin to tremble inside as you say “let's take care of that dress”

What am I doing? I allow a man I’ve known for about half an hour to lead me to his bathroom, asks me to strip and put on his robe! Then I notice my bra is stained too so I remove my 32B white bra and realise all I have on are my white panties and sandals leaving my legs bare. I put on the robe, open the door and see you naked from the waste up. I gasp as I take in your physic and mutter under my breath “Forgive my lustful thoughts”.

Soon you put on another shirt but leave the buttons undone as you place my clothes in the machine. I’m so conscious of my vulnerability and even as you ask “Now, where were we?" I’m aware of how exposed I am.

I try changing the subject “What time do you expect Sandra?” But before you can answer my phone rings again. As I bend to pick it up from the floor I see your eyes widen as you see my cleavage but before I can say or do anything I notice the call is from my father.

Without warning you take the phone from me and answer it.

"Good evening, I believe me know someone in common," I say cheerfully.

I listen to you ask who I am and demand to talk to your daughter.

"No, in this instance, I am not talking about your daughter," I reply, "the person I am referring to you know as Elana Rose."

There is silence for a time, then a sputtering denial.

I cut you off evenly, "Well Elana certainly remembers you, because of her profession, recorded everything, messages, dates, credit card numbers. She even kept some of the gifts you gave her."

I hear a few starts to sentences, then continue, "Charlotte and I are breaking bread and having a nice conversation. If I hear that she receives any grief from you or your sycophants, Elana and I will make sure that you are featured most unflatteringly in the evening news. Do you understand me? Well?"

I hear a low confirmation. "Good," I conclude in a lighter tone, "Charlotte will be home in her own good time, like any other adult woman."

"Oh," I remembered, "and you will lift your censure of Sandra immediately. I will be checking up on this. Good evening."

I closed the call and handed the phone back to you. Stunned wouldn't begin to describe your expression. I ventured, "I don't know when Sandra will return. She does not answer to me, or to any other person I know of. But given the curious coincidences, I am tempted to say that you were guided here."

I went back to the stove and turned on the burner, mentioning, "as you might have gathered, Elana was what your father's church would call a woman of ill repute. I know her and have found her to be a most excellent chef. She works at one of the larger hotels in Chicago now. She also has an excellent memory of harder times in her life."

I turned towards you, "more wine?" I cannot help but let my eyes caress your body, so stunningly displayed by the robe. I wait for your answer, and the questions that inevitably will follow. If we do end up sleeping together, this will have been the most curious seduction of my life.

In that brief conversation my whole world fell apart and yet one thing was true. I was definitely guided here. My father, my hero, the man I adored more than any other was a hypocrite not deserving either my respect or obedience. I feel the tears fall from my eyes and gush down my cheeks and just about hear you ask if I want more wine. I don’t answer, instead I offer my empty glass which you fill to the brim. We sit in silence for what seems an hour but in reality is probably no longer than seven minutes. By then I’ve finished my glass and hold it out for a refill and you oblige.

I look down at my Bible embossed with my name. I cannot recall if I told you my name or if you read it there but I correct you. “My name is Charlotte but in reality I’m what you might call a Tomboy. My family and friends call me Charlie.” I then proceed to tell you the story of my sheltered, controlled life before drawing myself up sharp “I’m sh shorry if I’m boring you” I giggle, obviously a little slurred by the wine. I stand up and stagger forward but you catch me before I fall. “I’m shorry, I’ve had a bit of a sh … shock …” Again I giggle “Pleashe … forgive me!”

Then reality strikes and I start crying again. As you cuddle me I whisper in your ear “I need to be going. I’ve got to find shomewhere to shtay the night. I can’t go home. Not tonight anyway. Do you know anyone with a shpare room?” Before you can answer I hug you and feel my tears run on to your open chest and shirt. I lift my head and hold your gaze as slowly, gently I take the initiative and draw you in to a passionate kiss. My first ever kiss. Shocked I pull back “I’m shorry … pleashe forgive me.” You don’t answer. Instead you reengage my mouth as my robe gegins to slip open and your manly chest meets my hardening nipples. Your right hand moves up and is about to touch my left breast. In an instant I’m stone cold sober and I break the kiss. I hold your gaze before nodding my head and moving my love bruised lips back to your mouth.

Your kisses are indescribably sweet, so filled with new desire. I wonder if you have ever really kissed anyone before. But the hardness of your nipples against my chest confirms to me that, first time or not, you want this. When I touch your body, you stop for a moment and look searchingly at me, and seem to come to decision. Our lips embrace again, more hungrily this time. My tongue touches your lips, exploring, and I hear you moan into my mouth. My hands are holding you tight and just start to slide into your robe, when we hear an angry sound coming from the stove.

We look over and see smoke from one of the pans. I laugh at little, "guess we are not the only things getting hot."

I reluctantly move to the stove and take the pan off. I give the contents a quick stir, and pronounce, "just in time! Dinner is ready."

I look over at you, your robe starting to fall open, your body tipsily languid. I know I could have you right now. But I also figure you are a virgin, and deserve more than a drunken fuck. I move back to you and lean down for a kiss, "Charlie, I want you to stay here tonight. Now, how about a little dinner?"

“Charlie, I want you to stay here tonight. Now, how about a little dinner?”

The words echo in my mind, my skull, my very soul because I know the implication. I look back at you with darkened eyes and I whisper “I’m really not hungry but as you’ve worked so hard … May I use the bathroom?” You nod and I make my way there. Once in the bathroom I make myself comfortable and wash my hands. I look at my reflection at my natural face. I’ve never liked makeup preferring to use just soap and water and nothing else.

Back in the kitchen diner I notice you have dished up a small meal for both of us and have opened another bottle of wine and filled both our glasses. We eat and drink in silence and afterwards I insist I wash the dishes, pans etc.

Afterwards I look you in the eyes and say “I was always the ‘strange girl’, the tomboy, the one who played men at tennis and beat them. The athletic one who hated skirts and dresses.” I sip more wine as I hold your gaze “Some even thought I was lesbian but I never had feelings like that.” You get up to walk towards me as I say “You know … Even as a young teenager … And I’m still in my teens now … I’d … I’d look in the mirror and imagine this moment … Then I’d dimiss those thoughts as the work of the devil.” You beckon me to stand and as I do I can feel some moisture between my legs and wonder what’s happening. You gently reach out and hold me before cuddling me. With my lips by your left ear I whisper “I don’t even know your name.” Then I add “I’ve decided. … I want it to be you!”

"You don't?" I said a little surprised, then laughed lightly, "Your feminine wiles made me forget my manners."

I reached down and took your hand, bringing it to my lips, "Christian, Christian Devon at your service."

I see you start a little and laugh again, "Yes, ironies are abounding today. Call me Chris."

Still holding your hand, I lead you to the living room. Night has fallen, so I take you to the couch, then turn to light a few candles. I settled back next to you on the couch. We each sipped our wine, holding hands, watching each other. I leaned in for a soft, long kiss, then grinned at you, "So, how is the moment so far?"

That soft long kiss did all sorts of things to me that only a few hours ago I would have considered the work of the Devil. My heart is pounding in my ears and I’m sure you can hear it too. Then you ask me “So, how is the moment so far?”

I pull you back for another kiss and then whisper “It’s going fine, just fine.” I see you staring at me and then move your gaze to my breasts hidden behind the material of the cool gown. Again I feel a dampness between my legs and pray you don’t think I’ve wet my panties. My nipples harden and I long for your hand to encase them. We kiss again and I feel your tongue on my lips. Opening them I let you enter my mouth and explore. I catch my breath and moan and as we engage I open my eyes and look down noticing there is a definite bulge in your crotch.

“I’m not really here am I?” I ask “I’m at home in my bed dreaming. I’m being warned not to go looking for Sandra … I’m …” My words are cut short as your right hand reaches into my robe and cups my left breast. No one, nothing had ever touched me there before and I groan as my nipple leaps into the palm of my hand before becoming as hard as diamond. As you do this you crush my lips to yours and I moan heavily. Slowly you rise and pick me up with you and I know next stop is probably your bedroom. “This is going to hurt isn’t it?”

I carried you slowly down the hall. The last thing I wanted to do was drop your or whack your head on a door frame. You were so deliciously tall, but that created challenges at the moment. At your words, I looked down at your face, and could see the worry in your expression.

"Not that I am an expert," I said lightly, "but maybe, maybe not. Some women, particularly athletic women, are already open. Others, not so much."

I stopped completely and tilted my head down to kiss you, "but no matter what, I will be gentle."

I carry you the last number of feet into my bedroom. It is light and airy, with a cool breeze drifting through the windows. I lay you down on my bed, giving you another kiss, before releasing you and going to the dresser to light another few candles. I turn to face you, and slowly remove my shirt, and then my pants and socks. I leave my boxers on as I return to the bed and lay down next to you. Your arms are open to me and we embrace, our lips immediately pressed together, our hands starting to explore.

Your robe is open part way, as I trace a finger over your face and down your throat. I feel you tremble slightly as I lightly stroke your collar bones, and then slide my hand down the middle of your chest. I pass between your breasts and down, until I feel the fabric of the robe come together again, and the belt just beyond. I untie the silken knot, and open it. I part your robe, and murmur, "beautiful," as your body is displayed to me. I feel my way back up your torso, my hands drawn like magnets to your nipples, so hard and proud. Your kisses become uneven, first soft, then hungrily hard, as I gently tease your nipples. I pinch each your buds softly groaning softly as you do.

My heart is thumping and my mouth goes dry with nerves as you strip off just leaving your boxers now bulging with what they mask. You join me on the bed and I open my arms to welcome you as our lips engage again. I’m scared of you, nervous of what is happening and worried I might hurt you. Your gorgeous hands begin their work and first my right then my left breast swell to your ministrations as my sex begins to get moist again as I growl lustfully in to your mouth.

Nervously I lower my hands to your boxer pants and for the first time in my life I feel an erect manhood. Now its your turn to moan and I gently find the band and remove them. I turn so I am above you and gently my right hand caresses your shaft which jerks in response releasing a blob of milky semi clear hot liquid. I kiss you and ask innocently “Is that where the sperm come from?” You nod and I kiss you again before adding “I never thought any man would ever do that because of me.” Now your hands move and revolve me onto my back and you begin removing my panties. “I honestly don’t know what to do.” I say as you reach down to guide my hand back on to your manhood. Somehow your hand engages your semen because soon a small dew drop of sperm is on my right nipple and I think I’m going to die.

Reality strikes when I recall its just a week before my next period is due and I am at my most fertile. I want to tell you, advise you I could be with child before the evening is out but my own lust kicks in and I pull you on top of me. Suddenly I feel this uncontrollable urge to widen my legs and arch upwards to give you free access. I kiss you and then whisper one word “Y – E – S!” I have completely surrendered.

Your kiss and your single word are filled with hunger. I am astonished by the transformation in you. An hour ago, you were the shy virgin, afraid of what might happen. And now you were writhing beneath me, your legs spread wide, your hips tilted up, telling me in a single word to fuck you.

Never keep a lady waiting, someone once told me. I reach down and take my cock, the head wet with pre-cum, and guide it up and down your furrow. I feel your drenched labia part and the texture of your folds as they yield to my hardness. Up and down, I slowly trace, asking you one last time if you want it. You nod vigorously and I reply by pressing into you. Your mouth opens wide as the head opens your lips. I release my cock and bring both my hands to yours, holding you as I start to rock my hips gently. My cock sinks deeper and deeper within you. Your breath is erratic and punctuated by moans and gasps, as I feel the head bumping your hymen. Your eyes close tight, and I pause, "Charlie, look at me."

Your eyes open and lock with mine, as I kiss you, and then start rocking again. One gentle thrust, and I feel my cock bend at your resistance. Your eyes are wide as press a second time, and feel the resistance start to give. We both groan loudly on the third, as you suddenly open to me and my cock sinks deep inside you. I pause, both of us panting, my cock all the way inside you. "You ok?" I ask softly.

I felt your wet cockhead go where nothing, not my own hand, a doctor or anything else had ever been before. As I feel my lips open you caringly ask if I want to do this and I nod giving you my total consent. You move a little and again stop before you find my hymen, my carefully preserved virginity. I brace myself for pain and screw my eyes shut but you say “Charlie, look at me.” As I open my eyes I look deep into the soul of my deflowerer and know there are just seconds left of my maidenhood. You push and it’s uncomfortable, push again and it becomes tighter, an invasion of my innocence but from an invader I’ve welcomed. Then the final thrust and I cry out at the deep sharp searing pain as I’m changed for ever.

I’ve no idea how long we were embraced but it felt like an hour but in reality was no more than two, maybe three minutes. I still hold your gaze as I feel a warm substance flowing from down below. You are completely inside me and there was no turning back. You whisper “You ok?” I nod as a tear forms in my eye then I confess “I’m bleeding and … I fear some of my blood is staining your bed”.

You give me a sympathetic look as I ask “Is that it? Is that what all the fuss is about?” You chuckle and slowly, gently, softly begin moving in and out, up and down. Each movement at the beginning is accompanied by excruciating pain and twice I cry out as it seems more blood is flowing from me. Gradually the pain begins to ease, then becomes an ache before fading completely. Something is building deep inside me, I’m not sure what it is but I find I’m beginning to move with you. Suddenly reality bites and I remember my last period is about three weeks ago and I’m at my peak in fertility. I want to tell you but I’m enjoying myself so much. I want you to stop … but I want you to continue. So I groan and hold you in a tight kiss as my breasts begin to erupt.

I rock my hips back and forth slowly. I had half expected you to ask me to stop, as the tears in your eyes flowed down your cheeks. I kissed their salty wetness as I paused, and then your lips again as I felt you start to move under me. You hips roll to meet me as I press deep. A groan escapes your lips and your kisses become harder, as I start to genuinely fuck you. I give you long deep strokes, almost pulling my cock from you, then sliding all the way in, back and forth. My body moves against you, and I feel the hardness of your nipples against my chest.

Your pussy alternates between being soft and buttery and tightening my cock. Your groans come more frequently as I begin to fuck you a little more vigorously. I fight the rising sensation in my cock. I know you are not up to a long fuck, but I think you might actually cum and I want to get you there. Our bodies are moving in rhythm, driving me into you, filling you completely...

Those long strokes bring moments of despair when I think you are pulling out and moments of release when you return. The pain has gone now and I’m torn between desire and fear. I don’t want a baby but I want to know what it fills like to receive vibrant living seed. I’m moaning and groaning as we move together.

Deep within me something beyond my control and totally outside of my experience begins to stir ans I notice a change taking place. We are moving in unison and for a brief moment I break our kiss. “WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?” I shout lustfully as I begin to panic. “Please … no … DON’T GIVE ME A BABY!” But it’s too late – my muscles are binding round your manhood refusing to let you leave and then I arch upwards throwing my head backwards as my body begins to erupt and I feel a strong warmth spread from my womb to my nipples and I cannot help myself – I grip your neck between my teeth in lust drawing blood to the surface in lust before the dam bursts and I scream your name “CHRIS!” As my love juice cascades down to bathe your cock.

I feel you harden inside me and I know my untouched virgin womb is about to be invaded by your life force. I scream “YES! DO IT!” … “NOW!” And I wait to be impregnated.