Vicky’s Virginity

I never put much thought into sex. The idea was of course, always there, and I considered it frequently. But I simply dismissed those naughty fantasies as my teen-aged hormones run wild. That all changed though. It wasn’t just my hormones who wanted it now.

The room was dim and warm; the atmosphere tense and anxious. Faint afternoon light seeped softly through the shut blinds hanging from the window, casting odd shadows around the room which would have been creepy, were it not seemingly romantic. I was clutching the firm black remote, controlling the knobs with care and pressing the buttons with ease. But my skills were no match for his. Almost silently his character crept behind me, only giving warning by appearing as a small dot on my radar. I tensed up, and tried to turn, but it was too late.

He had won, of course, but not by much. But I wasn’t fooled, he was surely faking it. He had committed suicide several times, and it did not go unnoticed. I appreciated the effort though, not all guys would try and take it easy on their less skilled girlfriends.

“Good game.” He said, grinning. I could see the score from the TV reflected in his pupils and my eyes narrowed. I gave him a playful jab with my elbow.
“Hey, don’t be an ass; just say thanks.” He added after rubbing his side where I jabbed him with exaggerated motions.
“I know you let me off easy. No retard just throws a grenade, runs toward it, and stands there, waiting for it to blow up.”
He managed a tragic expression which was easily killed by the theatrical manner he placed his hand on his chest. “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing!” He said, his voice suddenly sounding much like the queen of England.

I giggled and leaned into his shoulder, letting the stress of the game leave me, dropping the controller to the floor. He dropped his own controller to the floor and removed his arm from his side and placed it along my back and around my shoulders; pulling me closer to him.

Suddenly, everything seemed less playful than it had moments before. His embrace felt less friendly and more serious, more… sexual. I trained my eyes on him now, finding he had been watching my reaction to his sudden closeness with care. The room around me seemed to disappear for a moment, the light of the TV fading into the background. His eyes looked me over once before he moved again. He removed the glasses on his face and set them on his bedside table before turning to me again.

Did he not want to see me? Certainly he would have made it more subtle if he didn’t wish to look at me, he would surely try to spare my feelings. Fleetingly, I remembered him telling me he was short-sighted; he could see what was close to him very clearly.

I knew I’d be pretty close to him.

We kissed until it was dark; time for me to leave. There was school the next day after all. “Goodnight, Victoria,” He’d whispered in my ear before I stood to leave.

–

The next day at school, he wore contacts. It was of no importance, except that one remark from one of his more dirty friends caught my attention.

“Gee Blaine, contacts? You’re not supposed to wear those during wet activities.” He’d said, glancing from him to me repeatedly.

Blaine’s hold on my waist seemed to tighten momentarily before he responded. He chuckled icily, but hardly smiled. I probably had a look of shock on my face; my jaw certainly was hanging. He was so obvious about it! He said it easily as though the thought wouldn’t plague me for days. Maybe he thought it wouldn’t; but it certainly did.

I was hyper-aware of all the sex related conversations that day, people talking of penis size being related to foot size, their sex life, even what position is best. I wasn’t sure how I ever managed to tune all of that nonsense out. But now, all of it was at the forefront of my mind; and I could only help but notice how Blaine’s feet were the biggest I’d ever seen.

I managed to shake the slightly pleasuring thought away for the time being.

–

I took the pill.