This was my first story on Literotica, originally written in German. I translated it and hope that it will enjoy English speaking readers as well. The story is set in the early 1980s in a West German town. (Hint: Drinking age in Germany is 16 for beer, 18 for other drinks)
Enjoy!
Her name was Gisela, but everyone called her Gesa and that's how she introduced herself to me.
At that time, I had been doing community service for a few days in a facility for children with disabilities. Apart from Andy and me, both 18, there were only nursery school teachers working there, most of whom were over 30 years old.
I went about the work that was assigned to me. I built giant towers out of wooden blocks, cleaned the aquarium, repaired children's bikes and pedal cars, pushed wheelchairs, and cleaned the airways of gasping toddlers with a suction device. It was a bit exhausting at times, but the work was apt to distract me from my grief: I had broken up with my girlfriend Christine since last weekend. She had broken up with me was more like it.
We had been a steady couple for 18 months, were very much in love with each other and had spent many hours together. I was happy with her, even if she was quite shy in sexual matters. I had hoped for a long time that we would finally make love. But for Christine, something always came up: Condoms were too unsafe as contraception, she could not take the pill, no place to be on our own, her mother in the kitchen or her siblings in the next room, menstruation, sometimes even the proverbial headache. Maybe growing up in a strict Christian home was the reason for her reticence, even if she used to deny that.
Anyway, in all that time we had stuck to heavy petting, kissing wildly and caressing each other to orgasm, but had never orally satisfied each other, let alone really made love. The condom I carried around in my pants pocket was alarmingly approaching its expiration date. But at least one thing seemed settled: if we were going to experience sex for the first time, we would experience it with each other. With the prospect of "someday soon", but very definitely with Christine, I stayed on with her. We really had a lot of fun, though, and meanwhile understood each other without words.
But then there was the previous weekend, at a party of her best friend Anja, to which we had both driven in Christine's Beetle.
We weren't one of those inseparable couples who just sit next to and on top of each other at a party and make out all the time. No, we enjoyed ourselves quite separately, danced and talked, even flirted a bit with other guests, only to get together again on the way back from the party and tell each other about our new acquaintances. All of our friends knew anyway that we were a steady couple, we didn't have to keep proving it publicly.
But when I hadn't even seen Christine from a distance for a whole hour that evening, I started looking for her. I searched in the living room, where the loud music system was blaring, a few people were swinging their hair and arms on the dance floor, and some couples were making out, wedged into each other, on mattresses that had been laid out on the floor. I peeked several times into the kitchen, where the real party was going on in the crowd right in front of the fridge with the drinks. I even looked -- with a slightly queasy feeling -- into the bedroom, where however on the bed only all the jackets and coats of the guests were waiting for the end of the party.
And I went outside, where on the steps of the terrace some couples squatted tightly, some other guests were sitting on the lawn passing around joints, while a few singles simply meditated in the moonlight.
Christine was nowhere to be found. Unsuccessfully, I asked Anja about Christine's whereabouts, and then through the smoke-filled air and Pink Floyd music, in the half-light of the candles, all the people who looked remotely familiar. But I got no answer. No one knew, no one had seen Christine in the last hour. Her Beetle was parked on the street in front of the house, but she remained untraceable for the rest of the evening.
Annoyed and a bit worried, I finally accepted a friend's offer to take me home in his car well after midnight. On leaving the party Anja had tried to calm me down, I should not worry, everything was certainly all right with Christine. Nevertheless, I spent a restless night.
On Sunday morning, Henry called me and immediately sputtered out, obviously thrilled to be the first to tell me the news. "Wanna know where Christine spent the last night? With that motorcycle guy Jonas. Anyway, the rumor's going around, and I wanted to let you know so you wouldn't find out from one of the assholes in his high school graduating class."
My stomach immediately dropped, a mixture of frustration, jealousy, and sheer desperation spreading throughout my body. Still, I tried not to embarrass myself in front of Henry and laughed into the phone feigning coolness, "Yeah, I know. But it's really nothing serious."
At least outwardly, at least today, at least towards Henry, who was not one of my closest friends anyway, I wanted to keep up the pretense. And I didn't want to give anything to mere rumors either. Before I believed something like that, I needed verification. It could not and should not be true: Christine and I, we were firmly together, always honest with each other, and faithful to the tips of our toes. Especially since all our friends and acquaintances assumed anyway that we were doing it for a long time. Except maybe Anja.
An hour later, the doorbell rang. It was Christine. At first glance I could tell that the rumor was true. She made no effort to deny it. In my room, where we would otherwise have immediately laid down on the bed to make out wildly as a welcome, there was now an icebox-like atmosphere. I sat on the desk chair, Christine on the edge of the bed. With increasing anger, I listened to her story.
Here is the short version: Jonas had talked to her very nicely at the party yesterday. They had a pretty good conversation; he had danced with her for a while and then asked if she wanted to go for a ride with him on his motorcycle. He then took her to his home for a coffee and that's where it happened.
