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From: A Nonie Mouse <morganpreece@anon.nymserver.com>
Subject: Celestial RP 10,10,10 : "Stolen by Illusion" {Morgan Preece} [teen rom first time]
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This story is intended for the entertainment of adults only. 
If you are under 18 please stop reading immediately. If you 
are offended by strong adult-oriented themes, explicit sex, 
erotic fantasy or vulgar language, what are you doing here?

Copyright (C) 1998 by Morgan Preece. All rights reserved. Permission is
hereby granted for noncommercial use of this complete and unaltered text
(including disclaimer paragraph above and this paragraph and the next
one) in electronic form such as posting to EBBS's or Newsgroups or free
access Electronic Archives. Electronic storage of unaltered copies for
personal use is also permitted. Any other use of this text is a
violation of copyright. Additionally, no permission is given hereby for
any sort of distribution (including Email) to minors or other persons to
whom such distribution would be illegal in the jurisdiction of
distributor, recipient or intermediary. No hardcopies may be made
without written permission from the author. 

Inquiries about commercial use should be Emailed. Comments are welcome,
fanmail being the only feedback a newsgroup author gets. Email may be
addressed to the author at 
morganpreece @ anon.nymserver.com . Enjoy.

===========================================================
Stolen by Illusion

by Morgan Preece



I lost my virginity at seventeen, sort of a going away present to my
boyfriend who had gotten that letter from Uncle Sam. Twenty-five years
ago it seemed romantic to have a last night together and to do more than
our usual kissing and petting. I thought I had wanted it, I thought I
had wanted to give him a gift of myself.

Going steady hadn't meant for us what it had for our parents, but still,
Chuck was my guy. I liked the way he held me, laughed at my silly jokes,
complimented me just when I felt lowest and always knew when to stop
before I had to tell him. The thought of him going into the Army, maybe
going to Vietnam and getting killed made me ache inside.

I had the idea and I acted on it. We made a date to see some movie, I
forget what. I dressed in my sexiest clothes. I didn't wear pantyhose,
the night was warm and my legs were summer-smooth. I took an hour doing
my face. I borrowed some of my mother's perfume and a pair of her
clip-on earrings. My ears were not pierced back then. I borrowed another
piece of jewelry which I did not wear yet.

By the time Chuck came to pick me up, I had worked myself into a state
of excitement just short of terror. Mom seemed oblivious so I said
nothing. Maybe my usual histrionics had numbed her to when I really felt
like losing it. My mind, I mean.

I met Chuck at the door. "Annie, you look hot!" he exclaimed. So did he,
tall, blond and athletic, I always felt a little lucky that he seemed so
attracted to me when I thought of myself as below average in the looks
department. Skinny, gawky, bad skin, all the usual teen-age
insecurities, but I knew I looked my best tonight. I thought I felt
ready for what I intended to do.

Chuck and I spent a little time in the shadows of my family's front
porch. Chuck held me close to him and I rested my head on his chest. I
don't remember what we talked about or if we talked at all.

I remember that I liked Chuck's nickname for me. Nobody calls me "Annie"
anymore, my name is Hannah now. But back in high school, I hated my name
and practiced writing my signature as "Annie Helfiger" with little
hearts over both i's. I couldn't wait to change the last name either. I
thought "Chuck and Annie Prentiss" sounded good. Today, I guess my
counseling file at school would mention self-esteem problems. Back then
people thought in terms of "identity crises" but I think I was pretty
typical in lots of ways, really.

Well, we said good-bye to the folks and promised to be in by 11:45.
Chuck's '64 Chrysler loomed at the curb. The backseat of that monster
had been the scene of a lot of our teenage experimentation but I wanted
something different for the night I would give more than a hickey. I
wanted a bed and a place to take a bath afterwards. 

Some of my girlfriends had told me about having sex in places like under
the bleachers or on a kitchen table. Some of these stories sounded just
short of rape even then, "date rape" we'd call them now. I didn't want
anything like that to happen for my first time. I wanted romance and
comfort and a beautiful memory. "Forget the movie, Chuck. Let's find a
motel," I said. So much for romance.

My voice surprised even me and Chuck almost came unglued. "Are you
serious?" he wanted to know. 

I convinced him and showed him the wedding ring set I had borrowed from
my mother's jewelry box. She never wore them because of all the weight
she had gained. I slipped on the engagement ring and the wedding band.
The earrings were already pinching my lobes. I said, "We'll tell the
clerk we're married if he asks." Saying "we're married" sent a peculiar
thrill through me. Chuck laughed.

Lying to the clerk turned out to be unnecessary, I just waited in the
car while Chuck got us a room. I thought I'd always remember the name of
the motel but I find that I have forgotten.

Chuck carried me across the threshold and I giggled like a bride. The
clip-on earrings made my head hurt and I took them off as soon as Chuck
put me down on the bed. I left the wedding set on, though. "You sure you
want to do this?" Chuck asked again.

"Sure." I nodded. My heart beat fast against my chest. I began
unbuttoning my top. Chuck seemed about to say something, changed his
mind and sat on the bed beside me.

"Let's take it slow, hon. That way you can change your mind if you get
scared or something," Chuck said. He took my hands to stop me from what
I was doing then bent to kiss me. I tasted the slightly sweet, waxy
flavor of my colorless lipstick on his tongue.

"Don't you want me to do this?" I asked when we broke the kiss. I had
put my arms around his neck and now I turned my head to rest it on his
chest. He patted my hair, my back, then let his hand rest in the hollow
where my ass began. I felt a little chill then a warmth kindled
somewhere inside me. I knew that heat but had always resisted yielding
to it.

"Sure, I do, baby. Just not if you don't really want to." He tipped my
head back with a finger under my chin and we kissed again. I used one
hand to fumble at his belt while we kissed.

"I really want to," I murmured into his open mouth when we paused for
air. "I want to give you something before you go away. Y'know." I didn't
want to say he might not be coming back.

"Uh-huh. Just so you don't..." I kissed him to keep him from talking
anymore.

We undressed each other quietly with only murmurs of direction and
appreciation. We touched all over, with our hands, our mouths. We made
slow, uncertain, inexperienced love. It hurt a little, but not too much,
Chuck had done this before and knew how to be gentle.

After the first time, I lay in his arms, thinking. "I'll never be a
virgin again." I wanted to cry a little but somehow tears did not come.
He kissed me because he knew that I felt upset. I kissed back, wishing I
had enjoyed my first time a little more. The petting we had done before
had actually been better. After a few of those I had rubbed myself to
orgasm. I wanted to try it again, I wanted it to be better. I wanted a
good memory.

He kissed my lips, my neck, my shoulders, my nipples, my fingers. "You
didn't come, did you, baby? Let me help." I knew what he meant. He had
offered to go down on me before and I had resisted. But I wasn't a
virgin anymore, I'd never be a virgin again.

"Please," I said. I remember his mouth tasting me, teasing me with his
tongue, his lips. Licking, probing, while he played with my ass at the
same time, Chuck looked up into my eyes. I shivered, the tears I
couldn't find before filled my eyes as I came, finally. I moaned a
little, trying to be quiet, remembering that we were in a motel.

He held me again for a while. I wiped my tears away then we took a
shower together. I gave him my first ever blowjob there in the shower
stall with water pouring off my back and Chuck almost ripping the towel
bar from the wall. 

I felt good. I clenched my left hand, feeling the wedding set on my
third finger. This is a good memory, I thought, this is how I wanted my
first time to be.

When we came out to dry off he told me he'd been lying about the letter
from the draft board. He'd only been ordered to report for a physical.

* * *

Lord. Twenty-five years later, several relationships behind me, a great
career in public relations and politics, and okay, I can laugh now. But
I'm still a little pissed about it.


+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Copyright 1998 by Morgan Preece. All rights reserved.
Email comments to morganpreece@anon.nymserver.com.
Website http://members.tripod.com/~a_nonie_mouse/index.html


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