Jessica, a virgin, has first time sexual intercourse with her longtime boyfriend and now fiancΓ©, Michael.
Relegated to making out in his car, with both of them still living at home with their parents, they never have any privacy to do anything but for hugging, kissing, and some light petting. She feared that she'd be embarrassed that her parents could hear her and/or embarrassed that her younger brother might catch her topless with her boyfriend's cock in her hand or in her mouth. She was just as uncomfortable making out down the cellar in her parent's house, as she was uncomfortable making out in his bedroom in his parent's house. With her lost in his kisses when not on her knees, with him obviously just wanting to get off to cream her hand, cum on her tits, or ejaculate in her mouth, he wouldn't care who heard him or caught him having sex with her.
As long as she was stroking him and/or sucking him, he'd make out with her down her cellar, in his bedroom, in his car, or in the middle of the mall. Just as long as he got what he wanted when he wanted it, he didn't care where they had sex. A sexual fantasy of his to flash her big tits to other men, he didn't care who saw them and/or who caught her topless and him naked. With thousands of people watching them making out and touching and feeling one another, as long as he got what he wanted, he'd have sex in the stands at a baseball park or at a football stadium for all he cared.
With her just the opposite, when being intimate with him, especially when he was always unbuttoning her blouse and lifting her bra to expose her big tits, she preferred having sexual intimacy privately and without an audience rather than having sex in public. Whether married or living together, as long as he understood that she'd still be a virgin until their wedding day, she couldn't wait until they could afford a place of their own and could move in together. With shades on the windows and drapes pulled closed over the shades, she couldn't wait until they had their own bed in their own bedroom. She couldn't wait until they could close their bedroom door and have some intimate privacy while having sex.
Maybe then, even before the wedding, once they lived together, if he played his cards right and seduced her instead of forced her, she'd have sexual intercourse with him. Maybe then she'd have him make love to her before fucking her. Maybe then, once he experienced what it felt like to have his cock inside of her, he'd finally be sexually satisfied and would stop complaining about her not making love to him and him not being able to fuck her. Only, knowing him as well as she does, with some men going off the deep end when their wives are with child, he'd probably lose his mind when she became pregnant.
Just because she was always saying no to having sexual intercourse with him didn't mean that she meant what she said. Just because she was always saying no to having sexual intercourse with him didn't mean that he couldn't persuade her by seducing her to say yes. If only he'd seduce her, she'd freely and willingly relinquish her virginity to him. If only he'd seduce her they'd put the issue of her virginity behind them and both of them would be happier. Yet, with sex always about him, other than her agreeing to give him sexual intercourse, he didn't sexually satisfy her needs in the way that she always sexually satisfied his needs. He cared more about his own sexual needs than he cared about her sexual needs.
After going out to eat, to see a movie, to play miniature golf, to go bowling, to play games at the arcade, to shoot some pool, or to shop at the mall, the only private place they had was in his car when parked at lover's lane. Yet, after a while, kissing and groping in a small car, as was his Mustang GT, gets old fast. With little room to move, with her 5' 9" tall and him 6'1", a blessing in disguise, she was glad he didn't have a full-sized car or a big SUV because, no doubt, he probably would have forced her to fuck him in the backseat by now.
In the way that he so wanted to fuck her bareback without using a condom, undoubtedly she would have been pregnant by now. Unmarried and with her pregnant with his baby, with him getting cold feet in marrying her before she was pregnant, she wondered what he'd be like if they had a baby on the way. Knowing him to run scared when facing adversity, especially commitment, he'd probably take off, leave her, and disappear as if he was a gypsy running away in the night after stealing something. Only, what he wanted to steal was more valuable to her than her money or jewelry. What he wanted to take from her was her virginity. A high price for him to pay, the price for her virginity was him marrying her.
Knowing him, if she became pregnant with his child, he'd shirk from his responsibility and leave her alone to care for their child alone. Abandoning her and their child, she hated that she suspected that horrible truth about him. Knowing him as well as she does, she wonders why she still wants to marry him. Even after knowing his shortcomings, she loves him and there's no logical reason or commonsense explanation why one person loves another person. She just does and hoping to change him after she marries him, she has this nagging feeling that she's making a big mistake in wanting to stand at the altar with him to say, "I do."
She had a pit in her stomach and a bad feeling, a woman's intuition, that their love affair was doomed by his selfishness and self-centeredness. With him a one way street, in the way that he acted when he didn't get his own way was another big reason why she remained steadfast in not giving him her virginity. Playing things by ear, she decide to wait and see what would happen as the wedding date neared and the relationship progressed. Maybe he'd see the wrong of his ways and apologize for his bad behavior. With her looking at him as if he was a specimen under a microscope, she didn't want to make a mistake in marrying a man who thought more of himself and his own needs than he did about her and her own needs. If he worsened now in his selfish attitude, she couldn't see herself marrying him.
* * * * *
It was the same scenario, albeit sexy scenario, every Saturday night. As if scripted and a rehearsed play, seemingly as if stuck in the Twilight Zone, playing out with the same sequence of scenes over and again, she could predict what he'd do next. If he was so predictable now in his love making when they were so young and all this was new, she couldn't imagine what he'd be like when he was older and they were married for a while. With his sexual appetite seemingly so boring bread and butter and plain meat and potatoes, she needed him to spice things up a bit to heat up her flames of desire. Alas, even though she gives him regular hand jobs and blowjobs, he always seemed so sexually unsatisfied. With him not returning the favor, he doesn't reciprocate the sexual pleasure. Being that it takes two to make for a happy sexual relationship, there's only so much they can do without making love and fucking.
Kissing and kissing her, frustratingly, as soon as he kissed her a few times, he'd moved his hand to her breast. No surprise there, yet there's so much more to her than just her big tits. He loved her big tits. With him always enamored with her big tits from day one, his favorite body parts, so he says, after her big, blue eyes, pretty face, and long, blonde hair, he loves her tits as much as she loves her tits. Seemingly, with him pawing her, groping her, touching her, feeling her, and fondling her breasts, he can't get enough of her tits.
Yet, as if teenagers in a movie theatre and, after a while becoming bothersome and annoying, he never stopped feeling her big tits. Sometimes as if she wasn't even there, feeling one before feeling the other, sometimes he'd even feel them both together. Enough already with the groping of her breasts and the fingering of her nipples, she had other body parts that he could explore. What if she never stopped touching, feeling, fondling, and stroking his cock? Never mind, not a good analogy, he'd probably sexually enjoy more attention paid to his cock rather than less.
As soon as her nipples made their appearances through her blouse and bra, he fingered them. As soon as her nipples made their appearance through her blouse and bra, he pulled them, he turned them, and he twisted them. Enamored with her nipples as much as he was with her tits, if ever there was a breast man, he was their poster boy. Positioned in a cow pasture, she could envision him surrounded by and standing in the middle of bare breasted women, "Got Milk?"
Unfortunately and sexually frustratingly, as if her erect nipples was his cue to stop sexually exciting her, regrettably him feeling her breasts while fingering her nipples is all that he thought she needed to get her sexually aroused and in the mood. He was wrong. She needed more than what he was doing. If only he'd play with her pussy once in a while instead of ignoring that part of her body to for him to pay extra attention to her tits.
While kissing her and kissing her, she enjoyed him feeling her tits and fingering her nipples, as long as he was feeling her ass and putting his hand between her legs too, something that he always didn't do. Yet, too often starting and ending with her breasts, his attentive, physical affection was only for her tits. In the way she dressed, how much cleavage she showed or didn't show, everything he did and/or said was about her tits. When too sore to be fingered and uncomfortable to the touch, the only time she recoiled from him groping her breasts and fingering her nipples was when she was getting her period. Otherwise, knowing that it turned him on so much, she always allowed him to have his wicked sexual way with her big tits.
He liked her natural breasts. An understatement. He loved her natural breasts. As soon as she climbed in his car, reaching his right hand over to grope her tits while driving, the amusement park was open and her fun bags were his favorite ride.
If she could just give him her tits to play with and if he could stuff them in his pocket to feel, fondle, and finger them anytime he wanted, sadly, he'd probably have nothing more to do with her. Seemingly, he loved her breasts more than he loved her. In the way that some women are nothing more than their pretty faces and shapely bodies, unbelievably, she was seemingly nothing more than her big, shapely tits. As a souvenir, a sexy keepsake and an always present reminder of her tits, she imagined the interaction he'd have with his friends if she gave him painted, flesh tone, soft to the touch, silicone impressions of her breasts. Resplendent with lifelike nipples for him to keep after they separated, he could keep them in his room, beneath his pillow, in his office, or even walk around with them in his pockets.