When you start going out with a new boyfriend you never know what you're going to get. About the one thing that you can count on is that he'll chance his luck very early in the relationship. I even had one guy chance his arm on the first date, walking down the path to his car. They all do it, sooner or later. The idea is not to pick a boyfriend who doesn't think NO applies to him.
My current boyfriend is Paul. He's six foot, very nicely built, blond and handsome. He's articulate and intelligent, friendly and sociable. Generous to a fault. Everyone likes him. I couldn't believe my luck when he initially asked me out.
One of the nicest things I found about him was that he wasn't chancing his arm too early in the relationship. He was taking his time and letting us really get to know each other. I'm sure that when we're ready we'll move on to the next stage of our relationship. I can hardly wait.
That was my opinion six months ago. It was also probably my opinion three months ago. Now I'm not so sure. For the last three months I've been giving off those little signals that I'm ready to progress with our relationship, but Paul seems to keep missing the signals. It's not as though I can come out and just ask him to seduce me.
I was finally able to raise the subject of sex with Paul, in a round-about way. He assured me that I had no need to worry. He wouldn't try to seduce me. He'd promised his mother to stay celibate until he was married and he always kept his word.
I discussed my little problem with a couple of friends, asking for suggestions. Was he gay, I asked?
Sophia swears he's not. She knows a couple of guys who are gay and apparently because Paul doesn't talk about girls he'd seduced they thought he might be. They'd both pitched passes at Paul, only to see them go sailing past him, Paul obviously having no idea what they were on about.
"He's probably just got a low libido," Sophia told me. "You're going to the beach with him on the weekend. Wear an incredibly sexy bikini and see if that gets through to him."
So that weekend I wore a very small bikini. I made sure that we set up our stuff in a relatively secluded area where we could have a bit of privacy. We mixed with the others for a while, me wearing shorts while we did so. I wasn't game to prance around in public in that bikini.
After lunch we were relaxing on our towels and my shorts had gone by the wayside. Paul was properly appreciative of the way I looked and paid me some lovely complements. We smooched a bit and my breasts were hard up against his chest and he still didn't even go the grope.
I mean, really! What's a girl got to do?
I was lying back getting a tan and feeling a little disgruntled when George came wandering up. George, like Paul, is a natural extrovert and they were good friends. George is reasonably nice, I guess, but he doesn't have Paul's flamboyant good looks and sense of humour. I've also heard that if you date him, wear chain mail armour and a chastity belt. Sophia said she went out with him once and had to use a chastity belt. In her case it was her right fist on his nose. The bleeding cooled his ardour somewhat.
"How's it going, Paul, Angie," he said. "Enjoying yourselves?"
I just nodded to him but Paul started yakking away. They discussed sport and cars and such and then Paul asked who George's current girlfriend was.
"Between girls right now," George said. "How are you and Angie coping? It's a wonder you can keep your hands off her, even here."
Insulting sod. I ignored him. Unfortunately, Paul didn't.
"Now, George, you know I don't go around grabbing the girls," he said. "I respect Angie far too much to try to lay my hands on her."
"Oh, that's right," said George, nodding. "You made that silly promise to your mother. Do you mean you're keeping that promise with a hot little number like Angie just lying there like a ripe bud ready to be plucked? You're not even slipping it to her in secret?"
Crude bastard. I glared at him. Paul just seemed slightly shocked.
"I wouldn't do that," he said. "A promise is a promise."
"Well, that all very well for you and your mother, but what about Angie. She's all hot to trot and can't get a rider. It's shameful."
My face was burning. It was even worse because George was right and we both knew it. I just rolled onto my tummy so I wouldn't have to look at him.
"I'm sure you're wrong, George," Paul said politely. "Angie is just not that sort of girl. I wouldn't insult her by hinting that she was."
Bloody hell, Paul. I am. If you think I'm a virgin, you're crazy.
"Oh, come on, Paul. You don't really think that a hot little piece like this is a virgin at her age? She's doing everything but send you a written invitation asking you to nail her."
"I think you'd better drop the subject, Paul. Angie is probably finding the whole thing offensive."
"On the other hand, she's probably thinking that where women are concerned, you're a wimp who won't take what's on offer. Never had that problem myself."
George had the whole thing in a nutshell. Paul was a wimp where women were concerned, hiding behind his promise to his mother. If I wanted to have sex with Paul I'd probably have to rape him, and I wasn't going to stoop that low. And I'd lay odds that George never had that problem. Not since he realised girl germs weren't harmful to a boy.
