Mark Smith - Virgin no more

Or, more precisely, the lack of reasons.

It had been simple frustration on his part; a frustration that she hadn't been able to understand at the time, but which she could understand now.

And only a week had passed.

She felt like she was going to cry for the first time since she had come to the mountains, but somehow she couldn't.

Dammit, get a grip on yourself! There isn't going to do a bit of good for anyone!

But it was no use.

And then suddenly she realized where all her thoughts were leading her. There was no question about it. Why hadn't she realized it before?

But was it too late?

She would never know unless she tried.

By midnight Sheila was showered, packed, and ready to leave. The only thing that remained for her to do was to write some sort of note to let Susan know what was happening.

Not an easy proposition, since Sheila herself didn't know exactly what was happening.

Still, she had to make an effort to explain what she was doing. After no less than five false starts, she finally managed to write a note that she could live with.

Dear Susan,

I don't know how to explain this, since it all sounds kind of crazy when I try to put it down in words. I guess the main thing is that I've come to realize, rather suddenly, that I have to at least try to make things work out with Jim. I don't know if he'd have me, so I may be back here in a day or two. At any rate, I'll definitely come back to visit, if nothing else. As soon as I know anything else, I'll let you know.

Love, Sheila.

It wouldn't win a Pulitzer Prize, but at least it was honest.

At the last moment she wondered if she was doing the right thing; maybe it would be better to at least sleep on the whole thing and then do something about it tomorrow.

But that was impossible.

Sheila knew that this was something that she had to do, and there was no use putting it off any longer than was absolutely necessary.

In a way, she enjoyed the long drive through the night. It gave her an opportunity to regain some of the equilibrium that she had lost in the previous twenty-four hours, and it gave her a chance to think about what she was going to have to face when she finally arrived at Jim's apartment.

She came to realize, with certainty now, that what she had learned about herself in the last week was really significant. She'd grown up quite a bit, and she knew that she had a lot more to offer Jim than the little college girl who had frustrated him so much he couldn't stand it.

But in the process of growing up, she had more or less gone past Susan and John. And Ted, Angie, Philip, and Jackie as well.

What they were doing wasn't really right for her.

Not that it was necessarily wrong for them. It was just that during the course of the evening she had come to realize that what they were doing just wasn't her style at all.

It might be right for them, though.

Sheila wasn't about to start judging other people now. That wasn't her style either.

It wasn't simply a matter of sex. In fact sex, in itself, was the major new thing she had to give to Jim as a result of this week.

Even as she drove along, the thought of finally getting to see Jim's cock, taking it in her hands and her mouth feeling him spurt his jizz into her body; all of these things were enough to cause a pleasant, expectant tingle to rim through her body.

Beyond that, the mere thought of taking her clothes off for Jim, letting him look at her nakedness, feel her tits and her cunt, was exciting.

It was almost dawn when Sheila pulled into the parking tot of Jim's apartment building. Once again she had an attack of uncertainty.

What was she doing?

It suddenly occurred to her that she was about to burst in on an unsuspecting Jim at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning. What if he didn't want to see her?

Or, even worse, what if there was someone else in the apartment with him?

The thought made her suddenly become very cold.

But she wasn't going to stop now. She had come too far to let any doubts or uncertainties keep her from making ft clear to Jim that she wasn't the same person he had left a week ago.

At least in one way.

At the door she paused, once again feeling panic rise up within her. But she forced herself to push the button and let the doorbell ring.

Since she was expecting it to take a long time for Jim to wake up and answer the door, she wasn't quite ready when the door swung open no more than five seconds after she rang the bell.

It was Jim.

He didn't look like he had been sleeping at all; in fact, he was dressed.

"Sheila!"

She didn't say anything; couldn't say anything, to be truthful about it. There was something in the way he was looking at her that let her know that this mad escapade hadn't been quite so mad after all.

"I'm sorry," she managed to choke out as she stumbled into his arms.

After that, everything rushed together in her mind, and she seemed to drift out of reality altogether for a while. Somehow, she managed to tell him everything that she wanted to tell him, while he in turn had much to say to her.

In the end, they found themselves in the bedroom, but much to Sheila's surprise they didn't make love immediately.

Instead, they fell asleep.

When she awoke, sometime later, much of the confusion that had gripped her when she entered the apartment was gone. She was in Jim's arms, and that was all that mattered.

She knew that now was the time to show him how she had changed.

The thought made her smile.

He was in only his underwear, while she was still fully clothed.

When had he gotten undressed? She couldn't remember.

Standing up, she looked down on him as he slept, taking in his features as she suddenly realized she hadn't done in a long time.

He was beautiful. Or handsome. But right now she thought he was beautiful.

There was a mirror beyond the bed, and as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, Sheila could see herself in it. Somehow, the sight of her body, emerging naked from beneath her clothes as she took them off, helped her confidence.

She was beautiful.

There was no denying it.

Her breasts, if possible, seemed to have matured in the past week. They were still full and firm, but somehow the girlish quality had left them.

The same was true of her face. She looked older somehow. Or perhaps it was just because she felt older.

Finally she was naked, her body proud and firm in the dim light that filtered through the curtains.

She turned to Jim.

He was lying on his back.

She climbed onto the bed beside him, running her smooth, cool fingers along the soft hairs that covered his legs.

He stirred, but did not awaken.

When she reached his crotch, she let her hands run lightly over his sleeping cock, feeling it beneath the cotton material.

It began to stiffen.

More firmly now, she rubbed it, still being careful not to awaken him any earlier than necessary.

It was almost completely erect when he finally opened his eyes. Below him, Sheila looked up to his face.

Jim couldn't believe it was true; this was almost impossible.

And yet he knew it wasn't a dream.

Silently, he lifted his hips up off the sheet, allowing Sheila to pull his shorts down until he was naked. Then he started to reach for her, but she motioned him to stay where he was.

"Let me do this," she whispered.

He had no complaints.

As she looked down at his cock, Sheila felt in control of both herself and the situation. Nothing could keep this from turning out the way she wanted it to.

Nothing.

Both her hands were on his cock, feeling it, massaging it, getting to know it at last. It was fully erect now, straining upward from his body as she moved her cool fingers along its entire length.