Richard Sharon - Diary of a Lover

"Yes, because I didn't know if you were a virgin. But as soon as I saw that you were, I stopped, didn't I?"

"Yes," she admitted grudgingly.

"Because I want the man who takes your virginity to be someone you love, someone you want to give it to willingly," I lied. I couldn't tell her that I was just afraid she'd quit on me if I kept trying to put it into her. "So all I did was give you the first sexual pleasure you've ever had, and I didn't harm you at all, did I?"

Faye started to cry again. "I just don't understand how it happened," she bawled. "All we were going to do, I just thought we'd be kissing a little. I don't know how it went so far. And what I let you do to me, Oh, God, what I let you do to me."

"And what you did to me," I reminded her, so she'd think about her little hand wrapped around my cock, jacking it for all she was worth.

Faye cried harder. "I'm so ashamed. I'm just so ashamed… "

We were quiet awhile. Finally I said, "It's all my fault. I live in a world of adults and you live in a world of kids. And it's a wonderful word, but I guess it doesn't belong to me anymore. I'm not used to nice girls like you, Faye, I don't know how to handle you."

I figured that if I made her feel like a child, it might help. It did, and, borrowing my handkerchief to dry her eyes, she stopped crying.

We sat up and she picked her panties off the floor of the car. "Turn around," she said, adjusting her skirt and sweater.

"Faye, my God… "

"Turn around," she repeated forcefully.

I got a rag from under the seat, and was going to wipe off the steamed-up windows when I remembered that swollen cock was still out of my pants. I put it in and zipped up, noticing that Faye was averting her eyes.

While I was driving her home I began to get cramps in my balls and lower abdomen. I was so congested it was killing me. We parked in front of her house at one-thirty and I could see an anxious Jewish mother in the window.

"Please don't be mad at me," I said.

Silence.

"I didn't take anything from you, I gave to you. There's a big difference." More silence.

"I don't play games, I play for real," I told her finally. "You'd better stick with the little Stevie Shapiros from school, because I don't care about necking and petting."

"Promise me you won't tell anybody about tonight?"

Christ! Was that all she could worry about, her lousy reputation? "I'm disappointed that you thought you even had to ask that," I said.

She said good night and got out of the car. I drove to the next block and parked. The pain was killing me. I jacked off hurriedly into my handkerchief and in a few minutes had blessed relief.

On the way home I had to smile. I hadn't even gotten a good-night kiss. But then, it was our first date.

I never took out Faye again, although we used to talk occasionally in class. I don't know what she told her girl friends about me, but they looked at me very strangely after that, and whispered excitedly among themselves.

After Faye, I became fascinated with the art of seduction. For a period of about six months I concentrated on girls I went to school with, who had little experience outside of necking and letting boys feel their breasts. It was very interesting, cheap and lousy of me, since I had no real interest in them outside of getting into their pants. During that six months I had fucked sixteen of Faye's friends, and given eleven of them their first orgasms.

Some of the girls must have squealed, because I began to get a reputation around school as a bad-ass character with women. It got to the point where "nice" girls wouldn't even speak to me. However, this didn't bother me too much because things were picking up on other fronts. Anyway, I was tiring of the game; there was too much work involved in trying to bust a virgin.

Maybe I was a male chauvinist pig, a liar, a cheat, and a phony, but I never felt a moment's guilt. I had given twelve girls their very first orgasms. I had performed the function for which Mora had trained me, to please. And I'm sure that, as I never forgot Mora, none of those girls ever forgot me. I'm also sure that as the years progressed they remembered me with much more affection than, they had felt on the night of their seduction.

I had been playing a lot of jobs and my luck started to turn. During the same period that I was busy with virgin-busting, and for about a year after, hardly a weekend went by that I didn't pick up some broad, or get picked up at the various dances and clubs that I played. These girls were older, a few even into their thirties, and I was able either to go to their places or to take them to mine.

Some of the girls were married and out for the specific purpose of cheating on ineffectual husbands who had never learned the art of satisfaction. Some were divorced and lonely, looking only for an evening's companionship and something but their own fingers between their legs for a change. Some were single girls just out for a good tune. The married and divorced girls usually offered me no problem; it was just assumed that we would make love. The single girls were more troublesome and on many occasions I had to use the same tactics I had used on the high-school virgins to get them into my bed.

One girl, Felice, was twenty-three and had never been to bed with a man. She had an ugly face, but a hell of a good body and a very nice personality. We went back to her apartment on outer Geary Street and she introduced me to her roommate, whose name was Ginny. We talked almost all night, but nothing happened. I didn't mind, because I like Felice, who was a good conversationalist and a nonpracticing Catholic, so I started taking her out. I told her that I was twenty-one and a senior at San Francisco State College.

Felice kept bringing up the fact that she was a virgin, as though she felt guilty about it. She made jokes about herself, saying that by the time she found a man, "it" would be so rusty that he wouldn't be able to use it. When we talked seriously she told me not to push her, and that when she was ready she would let me know, so I followed her wishes. We necked a lot, but I never made an effort to get her really hot. Nonetheless, her face aside, I found that every time I masturbated it was Felice who occupied-my mind.

She worked as a receptionist at Pacific Telephone's main office, and I saw her several times a week. We had been going together for about a month when I was finally able to convince her to visit my place, because when we were at her apartment Ginny always seemed to be hovering about.

We had a drink and she said that she thought she was in love with me, and wanted to be made love to. She was nervous, so I did with her what Mora had done with me. I told her to take off all of her clothes, and that I would take off all of mine. I said that we were two people who cared deeply about each other and that we shouldn't have to play games, that I shouldn't have to sneak her clothes off piece by piece and get her so passionate that she wouldn't know what she was doing. She hesitated, but when I started getting undressed, very matter-of-factly, she followed suit. In a minute we were naked, facing each other. I was only semihard, and she tried to keep her eyes up, but they kept darting down to catch quick, guilty glances at my cock. I had been right about her body, it was beautiful. She had smooth, olive skin from her Spanish blood, high, firm breasts, a small, solid ass, and thin legs.

We got into bed and I held and stroked her for a long time as we kissed. When I thought she was ready I moved my lips all over her body, and she caressed me all over, but I had to take her hand and put it on my cock before she would hold it. When I started to put my head between her legs, she froze. "Don't!" she said. "That's dirty, it's not right."