Where it happened: Parked in a cornfield!
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 9
Category: Straight
Have you ever been in a long distance relationship? You
can’t imagine how difficult it truly is to maintain a
relationship with someone who lives over three hundred
miles away. The communication alone is a challenge, let
alone attempting to have a physical aspect to it! I can
tell you from experience, when you’re involved in an LDR,
on the rare occasions when you do see your loved one, the
only thing you can think is: “Get as much as you can while
you can!”
I’ll be the first to admit, he was really too old for me.
I was 17; he was 21. He’d had experience; I was still a
virgin. I wasn’t sure what I expected out of the
relationship, let alone what HE expected! I know now that
I waited too long to find out.
We managed to make arrangements to see each other in June,
and met in a city about halfway between where each of us
lived. I had relatives nearby to stay with, and he had
friends there who were putting him up for the night. He
met me at said relatives’ house, and we went out and spent
the day gallivanting about the city. As the sun set, we
sat together on a fountain in the center of the city,
stealing kisses when we thought people weren’t looking. If
I’d known then that it would be the last day I ever spent
with him, I might have treated the situation differently.
As darkness fell, we got into his car and drove out of the
city, into the surrounding “boonies.” We veered off onto
a side road, then took that into a few more twists and
turns, when I finally saw an opening in a fence that led
into a small clearing in a cornfield, slightly below the
level of the road. I couldn’t have planned it better. We
pulled off the road, and he cut the motor and turned off
all the lights.
There were a few moments in which we sat there in silence,
holding hands and adjusting to the darkness. Then he
leaned over and started kissing me.
I’ve heard that your first kiss is supposed to be fireworks
and sirens, the most exhilarating experience of your life.
For me, EVERY kiss I ever shared with him was like that.
There was something about him that seemed to light every
part of my being on fire. Even now that I have only
memories, I still feel the electric shock that seemed to
run through me every time his skin touched mine.
As things began heating up, clothing began coming off, and
suddenly we were lying naked together. Then he reached
into the back, tugged open a backpack, and began fishing
around inside it. It took me a minute to realize what was
happening, and I understood fully when he brought out a
condom.
A million thoughts were competing in my head all at once,
from “Oh my God, he’s going to make love to me,” to “But I
wanted to save myself,” to “That presumptious prick
actually brought a condom with him?!?” There was no time
to think. If I could have freeze-framed that moment and
had time to think things through, I’m sure I would have
said “No.” As it was, I didn’t have much of a choice. One
second he was fumbling with the condom, and the next he was
inside me.
The act itself was very painful – I was frightened and
rigid, but I didn’t want him to stop. As quickly as it had
started, it was over, and we were putting our clothes back
on and climbing out of the car into the cool night air.
I remember looking out into the deepening sky and thinking,
“I don’t feel that much different.” But suddenly
everything had changed. I’d given this person a part of
myself that I could never take back, something precious and
sacred. He leaned against the hood of the car and wrapped
his arms around me. I knew then that my heart was his,
forever and always, and I leaned close and whispered, just
audibly, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he told me, and I felt a wave of relief.
Surely everything would be this good forever, because love
was supposed to be forever…right?
After that night, we returned to our LDR, keeping up
communication through e-mail and the occasional long-
distance call. Things were okay, for awhile, but he seemed
to be getting further away – taking longer to respond to
my letters, never returning my phone calls. Finally, in
August, I confronted him about it, and my worst fears came
true. Those four dreaded words: “Let’s just be friends,”
ripped my world apart.
It’s been over a year since that night, and approaching a
year since we broke up, and I still can’t claim to be over
him. He has a part of me that I can’t ever reclaim, and
that I can’t ever give to anyone else. Sometimes what
hurts the most is knowing that, for him, I was just another
mark on his tally, the fourth girl he’d laid. Would I be
so attached to him if I hadn’t lost my virginity to him? I
only wish I had the chance to go back and find out.
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