Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Regarding the story below: One night my husband and I were alone on a boat off the coast of Alaska drinking wine. The subject came up of how we had lost our prospective virginities. I gave a vague answer best described as a lie. He was more introspective about it and shared details and memories. (My husband is a very good communicator - it's what he does for a living - and when he launches into a story I enjoy listening.) I rewrote his from memory as best that I can, and wrote it "first person" simply because I can't seem to make the words work together any other way. This is - to the best I can remember it - his story in basically his words. I wrote this though, and will mention here I am protecting it under copyright. Please do not repost it or otherwise use it without my consent. If you want permission, or just want to talk about it or anything else, I'm "twylamarie at ymail.com" - but use the little squiggly instead of the word 'at' if you know what I mean. ########## I grew up in a very conservative town - a church college pretty much dominated the area. We all lived in its' cold and judgmental shadow. Our county was "dry" We had no liquor service or sales - and we had "blue laws" that forbade most commercial activities on Sunday - they didn't even deliver the newspaper or open most gas stations. It was one of those kinds of places that you see in the movies now and don't believe ever existed. In general the whole country was a lot more conservative sexually back then, but in our town I'm not even sure the word "sexually' was ever said out loud. We had a few people in our high school that had gone all the way by our senior year, but it was mostly people who had either been together for years as a couple or some case of a kid going to camp and getting drunk, or spending the summer out of town. Casual sex just didn't happen. I had been going out with the same girl for about 18 months - and we had played around a little bit on a very few dates where we could get away. (Over the bra stuff - nothing serious) In general, though, it was just about enjoying each others company and a kiss good night. I actually felt bad on mornings after the few times when I was allowed to let my hands roam a bit on her body. I never pushed but always felt like i had perhaps taken things farther than she wanted. We were both embarrassed about it on seeing each other next, and I never even let myself imagine she had really enjoyed it. My church and parents had taught me that women enjoy the attention of men because it is flattering and will allow us to remain in their presence if we are gentlemen. Not a lot was said about teen urges and that maybe it was okay and natural for both boys and girls to think carnal thoughts. That all changed one glorious day when we were both 17 and preparing for our winter formal dance. She had called me over to the house - telling me she wanted to show me her dress and make sure it was going to match my suit. (We didn't do rental tuxedos or anything and her dress was not a "prom" style like the ones most wore in other parts of the country. Such conceits were not welcome in our town.) I walked to her house, heard the customary shout of "come on in" and entered the kitchen thinking I would step into the kind of family life that one imagines seeing in an early 1950s sit-com. It was always the same - her mom in the kitchen, her little brother at the dining table doing homework and her littler sister using her rationed 2 hours of daily television to watch some afternoon cartoons. This time though, I met just her and her older sister Katie- recently married and living in a nearby town. The two were chatting and laughing when I walked in, but all conversation stopped immediately, and while she went to get her new dress out of the hall closet, Kate started gathering up some small things and pulled her car keys from her purse. She was actually headed for the door by the time my girlfriend pulled back the black plastic cover that the store had used to package her dress. She took the dress out - and put it against her body. It was very pretty - a white long dress that one might see at a church christening. It did look good when she put it against herself and smoothed it to fit the contours of her body. When she looked me in the eye and invited me up to watch her try it on, you could have frankly knocked me over with a feather. This kind of thing just didn't happen to me or anyone I knew. (Even being in a home alone with her was amazing to me. I felt like I was committing a real trespass against her parents.) We went up stairs and I know we were both nervous - though she had enough confidence for both of us and led me by the hand to her bedroom - a room which I had never even dreamed I might see. Once inside, she quickly shut the door, entered her closet - which I believed she was doing so she could slip into the dress - but then she slipped out holding a pair of very adult looking high heels and a package that I discovered a few moments later contained a sheer white nylon slip. She looked me in the eye and quickly pulled her dress over her hips and then her head, and stood there in her bra and panties. I remember they were both white and perhaps skimpier than I would have imagined. Her panties were cut cotton, but cut low on the hip and tighter - not "Granny panties" or even "school girl" panties. They were definitely designed to be attractive. Her bra was also pretty sheer and I could actually see the outline of her nipples through the fabric and even a hint of pale rose color. She was absolutely beautiful. I wasn't that aroused really - well maybe a little bit - instead I was just so thankful. I had been given a gift and I knew it - and she did too. She stood there for a moment just looking at each other. I didn't dare to let my eyes wonder too much down her frame, but she had more curves than I had imagined, large, firm breasts that had always been hidden under thicker clothes. (Even her swimsuit that summer had been an unappealing one piece that did not even hint at how good she could look.) We didn't smile or grin or say anything. It was just this perfect little moment. We looked into each others eyes and we knew we had crossed some sort of threshold. I had always been quite fond of her, and we really enjoyed spending time together, but I suddenly loved her more than anything in my life and wanted to be with her always. She opened the package and moved the beautiful slip over her head. It slid down in a liquid movement, again covering her beautiful young body. The dress was next, and she looked lovely in it. She sat next to me on the bed while she put on the heels, and we still hadn't said a word. She stood to model the combined dress and heels and stood there expectantly. I was in such awe that it took me a few moments to realize I was supposed to speak, and yet another to remember how to form words. She was stunning. Amazing. Gorgeous. I said so with the passion and awkwardness of a young man in love. She giggled then, and pushed me down on her bed and then she bent to kiss me, in a much more passionate and mature way than we had ever done before. It was a romance movie kiss - the kind where the music swells and the cutaway scene is coming soon. It alone lasted longer than most of our prior "make out sessions" had ever lasted before. She finally came up for air, and stood up again. I was satisfied. Elated. I was in a trance and just so happy. She removed her dress again and hung it with care on a hanger. She removed the slip by removing the spaghetti straps and dropping it smoothly to her ankles, where she stepped out of it and then bent to pick it up. She was still wearing the shoes - which I thought she was going to take off next when she returned to the bed, instead of sitting though, she pushed me down onto the bed. I know the heels were kicked off while we kissed. They were simple slip ons, and I heard them drop one at a time to the floor. I was briefly scared that I was hearing her parents coming in the door and seized up a bit. She just giggled again - a deep, throaty, sexy giggle that I had never heard from her before - it aroused my passion - and she just kept on kissing me. I wish I could say I was suave and sophisticated enough that I reached up to remove her bra, but instead she dropped it herself when she again momentarily moved back and we both got back our breath. The panties she pushed down to first her thighs - then below her knees and finally off - much later. This was after she had helped me remove my shirt, my shoes and my pants and even underpants. She was the one that first openly acknowledged my erection - taking it in her hand and gently stroking it to make it harder. She was the one that rolled us over in such a way that I was on top of her. She used her hand on me to help me make sense of it all and get myself into position. When I entered her tentatively, it was she that gasped in a positive way - letting me know that she was not hurt but relieved, and she began the hip movements that soon had me moving slowly in and out of her. Perhaps it was because of how it happened - but I'm glad to say I wasn't a two minute wonder. We moved together for perhaps as long as 15 minutes, and she told me much later and I really do believe that she did cum before I did not once but twice - the second time her writhing around accounted for so much movement that I came as well. It was crazy - almost suicidal - that after that we laid together for perhaps another 30 minutes, just kissing, cuddling and basking in the glow of what we had done together. If her parents had come home, I would have been dead. (And I mean seriously dead - this was a long time ago and young men did get shot for taking the virtue of another mans' daughter.) There were no words. There was no embarrassment and just the littlest bit of giggling - most of which occurred when we finally began to assemble ourselves and I had a world of trouble finding one of my socks and she her underpants. I slipped out of her home around dinner time - her parents still not home and my parents slightly perturbed when I went directly upstairs to my room instead of helping set the table. I took a shower, hid my clothes until I could figure out what to with them. (Lipstick stains on the shirt - a smell of sex and guilt in the underwear.) I spent the evening in a daze and went to bed early. The next morning she was a bit timid and we had to re-establish our comfort over the next days. I think she was afraid I would tell friends. I did not. I think I thought she wouldn't. (She did - and later told me she had been planning the event with her sister when I came into the home that day.) Everything changed between us that day - some of it not so good - but a lot of it just fantastically. I probably would have married her, but her parents insisted that she do a few years as a missionary in order to insure her inheritance. (Her grandparents were loaded.) I went away to college first on the east coast and then in France, and our lives moved different directions.