I’ve been a long time lurker here and have always considered this sub one of my favorite guilty pleasures—a pleasure that neither my family or fiancé would find appropriate or appreciate. I’m too embarrassed and fearful of judgment to buy and own books, and watching rather than reading tends to be a bit much for me so the internet and sites like literotica help to quench my thirsty imagination though I do have to sift through a lot.
I don’t really have many stories of my own to add to the archive, let alone anything remotely like most things on here, but I’m getting married in less than a month and the closer it gets to the date the more I look back and dwell on what little experience I do have.
I’ve only been with two men, my fiancé and the man I lost my virginity to. Recently, every time we discuss the upcoming nuptials and especially the honeymoon, it seems like the knowledge of my one previous experience has somehow become a point of contention. And honestly, the fact that it’s being discussed so much has me thinking about it more than I think is healthy.
My fiancé and I both come from very religious families and church has always been a big part of our lives. We met at the same Christian university and I was honest about my previous experience and I think he resents the fact that I don’t express any sort of remorse over not remaining abstinent, even though he didn’t seem to mind and even was happy about it in the beginning.
It’s a memory that I’m not ashamed of even if it was a moment I willingly and happily let myself lapse, and although I sympathize with his disappointment and insecurity, I can only apologize so many times and try to put it behind me—even as it keeps being brought up and I’m constantly being questioned why I let desire overrule sense and if that’s something he need be concerned about in the future. It really isn’t and it seems like he’s only now just fixated on it, but the resentment on my part is starting to set in and I just want to get it all off my chest in hopes that confession will be cathartic and the guilt that is beginning to develop can be forgotten. I hope you can bare with me because I know this probably isn’t what most people hope to read about when they come here and it is quite long.
From the time I was 11 until I was 17 I went to a Christian summer camp every year. Even after I was too old to be a camper I started working there, first in the kitchens and then as a counselor when I was 19.
I have so many good memories of spending my summers there. I always loved it and more than just my religious comfort zone, it was about the fun and games. About running around in the woods and playing large scale Capture the Flag or Gold Rush with over 100 people while decked out in camo and face painted, not to mention being on the lake all summer and meeting tons of great people; people with similar life outlooks and traveling at my same speed if you will.
It was never as innocent as you think Christian camp would be though. As a counselor you were always trying to stop boys and girls from sneaking off together and occasionally you’d find kids making out in the woods instead of trying to Capture the Flag or find the rocks we’d spray painted silver and gold for Gold Rush.
Campers weren’t the only ones who were guilty of offenses though, counselors often coupled up throughout the summer and used game times as a means to get some alone time considering you only had an hour break per day from the campers. I personally never dated any of the male counselors, mainly because my older brother was a counselor as well, but I was certainly attracted to a lot of them and so were my campers. Mostly though I always found my eyes straying to one counselor named Greg and apparently his eyes were on me more than I realized too.
Greg was the tall musically talented and extremely competitive counselor of the group. As far as build goes he was at least a couple inches taller than me, I’d guess 6’1’’ or so, and he wasn’t particularly muscly, but he did have a faint 6 pack. His music was a priority and he’d have campers swooning while leading worship playing guitar but I knew from talking to him over the years that he was a religious runner and loved hunting and fishing as well. He always wore square black framed glasses that looked good on him and emphasized pretty charming green eyes and had his brown hair buzzed pretty close to his head. I thought he was gorgeous.
As for me on the other hand, my brother and I both inherited my mother’s Scandinavian blonde hair but managed to get my fathers brown eyes. At 5’9’’ I’m taller than most girls but it works out for me in wingspan considering I’m a swimmer and avid climber. As a preteen I looked quite gangly but thankfully I’d filled out a little at 21 and look pretty much the same now at 24. I’m admittedly pretty modest in terms of both bust and bum but am supposedly leggy.
Anyways, he and I got along well and worked together during activity time, the two hours a day the kids were allowed to chose what two activities they wanted to do, whether it was crafts, fishing, canoeing, swimming, archery, cooking, music, theatre, stuff like that. I was a YMCA life guard during the school year and on the swimming and diving team in high school and college, and he’d worked as a lifeguard as well so we were always paired up to watch the swimming hole which entailed making sure no one drowned while taking care of the water slide and watching the rope swing. We always got on well, had a lot in common and bantered back and forth amiably, though I suppose you could call it flirting—and especially so after one particular game of Smugglers and Spies.
Smugglers and spies is essentially where all the campers and counselors are split up into two teams. Team 1, the smugglers, are given goods (candybars) to try and sneak into designated areas while team 2, the spies, try to intercept and take these goods. The whole cabin area, probably around 15-20 acres, is considered in bounds and whatever team has submitted the most amount of goods to score keepers in the designated safe areas at the end of the game wins. We only ever played this game the summer of my Junior year in college and stopped after the first 13-15 age group came through for good reason. It was only after playing with them that we realized it wasn’t entirely appropriate as it involved the spies frisking the smugglers to try and find the goods—preteen girls took advantage of this with the male counselors they had crushes on and the boys vice versa. Luckily I always managed to get sorted as a spy so I didn’t get frisked. Somehow though I still had a similarly on par mishap with Greg.
Part of the strategy of the game on the smugglers end is to choose people who are extra sneaky and give them most of the goods while sending in decoy smugglers to occupy the spy’s time. Greg is known to be super fast and a good woodsmen so as a spy I was excited when I managed to sneak up and catch him.
You’re only allowed a minute to search the smugglers and he was wearing camo army pants and a jacket with a lot of pockets so I had my work cut out for me. I patted him down and felt most of it in his lower pants pockets and when I thought I had everything I reached back in to make sure. I happened to feel two something else’s in his upper pants pockets.
I pulled out one fun sized kitkat and reached back in to find the larger thing I’d felt. I brushed over that something feeling fabric over it and sort of felt at it confusedly, chasing after it even he as jerked away, telling him to hold still and asking him if he was hiding something. I was baffled because it really didn’t feel like the melty candy bars I’d already confiscated, but as I tugged right after he tried to pull away I heard Greg grunt and then with a loss of breath tell me that wasn’t what I thought it was. I’ve never let go of something so fast in my life.
I was absolutely mortified and apologized profusely for naively groping him and made myself look like an idiot in the process by having verbal diarrhea and admitting I’d never touched a penis before and therefore didn’t know what it felt like; essentially I told him I thought he was hiding snickers in his pants. I’m cringing even thinking about it now. For the rest of the week I had a hard time looking at him let alone talking to him. I was already shy not to mention a virgin who’d only ever kissed a guy—not even coming close to feeling someone up like that.
He never seemed offended and honestly appeared more amused by my awkward blushing and embarrassment, however that only made it worse for me. I only began to feel better about it after he approached me Saturday after the campers left, the next ones arriving the following day on Sunday.
We were doing regular housekeeping and maintenance stuff when he pulled me aside only to tell me there were worse things he could think of than having a pretty girl grope him and got a kick out of teasing me saying I probably knew and just wanted to cop a feel.
After that the flirting intensified and he was always trying to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible and make me blush. Before the end of the summer I had a full blown crush on him but nothing ever happened until the final week which was reserved for closing up camp.
Everyone else was working on winterizing the cabins while Greg and I were responsible for taking the rope swing down from the swimming hole platform, removing the water pump from the waterslide (it was a bush league water slide not like a water park one), removing the rope floats that demarcated the shallow end from the deep end of the swimming hole, and taking the canoes and everything back to the storage shed. Of course before we got started on all that we had to give the rope swing one last go, him egging me on after he was already in the water. It didn’t take much for him to convince me to go ahead and swing and I did, but when I surfaced he was nowhere to be found.
I had just opened my mouth to call his name when I felt a hand on my ankle and was dragged under water unexpectedly. I managed to swallow a mouthful of liquid and when I surfaced I could hear him laughing as I coughed up a lung and swam for shore. I was on my hands and knees in half a foot of water trying to catch my breath as he caught up to me and sat down facing me, asking if I was okay and how much water I inhaled. I glared at him and once I stopped coughing I reached out with a hand on his chest and pushed him backwards, only he’d grabbed my hand and dragged me on top of him in the process. I was wide eyed and embarrassed again but then he was kissing me, tentatively at first and pulling back to gauge my reaction, then more confidently after I didn’t pull away.
No one had ever kissed me so…I want to say innocently but that’s not the word. He wasn’t insistent and it didn’t seem like he expected or wanted anything more than what was happening. It didn’t feel like he was warming me up for something more.
Even once he rolled us over and I was on my back with him hovering over me from off to the side it still felt like he was happy just to kiss me. There was still no pressure and it was lighthearted and entirely too enjoyable. I wasn’t worried about him taking it further and it succeeded in shutting down my brain’s objections altogether and actually give into it instead of being worried that it was going to be taken too far.
If someone had ever even tried to kiss my neck before that, or move their hands and grab at me anywhere but my shoulders or waist, I would always pull away and stop them because I knew what was coming next, what they expected. That expectation wasn’t something I was ready for or could welcome happily. It always made me so nervously uncomfortable. I’d feel prostrate and vulnerable, and often scared of their reaction.
When he slowly and leisurely moved his lips to my neck however, there was no weight or force behind it that made me want to curl my chin towards my shoulder and block him out. He was barely grazing my skin, teasing me pleasurably not seemingly trying to devour me and satiate his own desire, only add to mine. I just sort of melted and sighed while feeling his hand come to rest on my hip, his touch feather light. I leaned into it as he worked up and down my neck delicately and in no hurry, and after he moved back to my mouth from my collarbone I was surprised to actually feel disappointed he hadn’t ventured on.
It was as if because he didn’t seem interested in taking it further and I wasn’t preoccupied with how aggressive he was, I wasn’t trepidatious and I actually desired to see how far I could be taken out of my normal comfort zone and still feel pleasure rather than panic.
I was wanting him to touch me everywhere and that was completely new for me. I didn’t really know how to ask for it or even if I should, wondering if it was just a fleeting thing. I’m sort of ashamed to admit that I pushed moral consideration to the side and think I was almost trying to communicate my want by how I renewed the kiss, how we both began moving our lips together slower and more intensely but with added pressure, tongues delving deeper and breathing heavy. I think he got the message but he still pulled away, telling me we should probably actually get something done. I just sort of nodded dumbly feeling flustered and a bit rejected though I was thankful for the time to process things.
While we went about our work I noticed him considering me from time to time and found myself blushing and feeling really foolish for how I’d behaved. It wasn’t until we loaded all the canoes up onto the trailer and found ourselves at the storage warehouse that we really said a word other than the necessary communication while we hauled things around. He broke the silence suddenly by asking to confirm if I was a virgin or not.
The troubled thoughtful look he gave when I admitted as much is still something I find myself randomly wondering about three years later. Back then I took it as indication that he didn’t believe I was being truthful because of the eager way I’d welcomed his advance and didn’t try to stop him. The hurt must’ve shown on my face as I turned to leave because he was quickly turning me around telling me it was “nothing to be ashamed of” as I miserably looked anywhere but him. I thought he was implying that if I admitted I wasn’t a virgin there would be nothing to be ashamed of, problem was I was already telling the truth.
My inability to look him in the eye turned things weird fast and when we got back in the truck to head over to the cabins and help, he didn’t even glance in my direction. We avoided each other for the rest of the day and it bothered me enough that I didn’t get a lot of sleep and got up earlier than I usually did.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/2zdi3y/losing_my_virginity_as_a_christian_camp_counselor
I figured I’d head to breakfast and see if the kitchen needed help but as I walked out of my cabin meaning to make my way around the lake to the dining hall, another male counselor waved me over saying I could hitch a ride in the truck, Greg was dropping him off at the barn before going to town to get gas and the dining hall was on the way too. I didn’t want to make my discomfort known and hopped in the cab to sit in the middle of the bench seat. Once we dropped Brian off and unloaded tools and some scrap wood at the barn, it was just me and Greg in the truck and the silence was stifling. He’d put the truck in park outside the dining hall to wait for me to exit before I finally decided to work up the courage to say something, though I did intend to bolt right afterward. I tried to look at him but found myself staring at the truck bench as I said, “Just so you know, I *really* am a virgin. If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be too ashamed to admit it.” I was probably as red as a tomato as I moved to bolt out of the car, but then his hand was on my wrist stopping me and when I looked back he appeared bewildered. “Wait, you think I didn’t believe you?” He questioned shaking his head in disbelief. It was my turn to look confused. “I mean, yeah? I don’t normally let it get as far as it did yesterday and I think I probably gave you the wrong impression…” I hurried to explain trailing off. He smiled and let out an incredulous huff and told me to get back in the car and come to town with him so we could talk. Even though I was mortified I was curious so I did. He didn’t say anything as he backed out and we made our way down the dirt exit road, it was only when we were close to the main road he finally looked at me. “I do believe you, you know.” I frowned still confused about yesterday. “Then why did you look at me like I was lying after I told you I was? You looked sort of upset, like you didn’t think I was being truthful.” He chuckled mirthlessly but was honest. “I wasn’t upset. I just—it’d be easier if you weren’t a virgin.” He blurted out as explanation. He must’ve seen my wide-eyed shocked look because he was immediately apologizing and backpedaling. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it or anything! That’s not what I meant at all! I’m sorry, it’s just…after smugglers and spies I knew you had to be a virgin and that’s why I stopped. I didn’t want to rush if you were. I only asked at the shed because I was still thinking about…ya know, and hoped maybe if I was somehow wrong there’d be more of a chance.” He immediately looked like he regret saying anything at all and silence lingered for a moment with us stopped at the exit to the main road. Finally he groaned. “I’m such an idiot. You must think I’m such a jerk.” I was still kind of astonished at how badly I’d misconstrued things after being told what he’d really been thinking, but I managed to squeak out a “No” for answer. And even though I was convinced I shouldn’t say it I came out with it anyway. “You shouldn’t have stopped.” I told him. When he whipped his head towards me I looked at the seat. “I didn’t want you to stop.” He looked physically pained, like actually hurting at that point. I was hoping maybe he’d do something because I was beyond nervous, and yet when he didn’t I managed to lean forward and kiss him lightly trying to urge him to do something. He did. He put the truck in park and gently dragged me closer to him before returning his lips to mine and kissing me just like he did the day before. I was afraid that he was going to pull away again after putting myself out there, plus I was a little nervous about our location so after only a short while I sort of whined, “please” through the kiss hoping to get my point across. Greg pulled away and fluidly pulled his shirt over his head before renewing the kiss and tugging at the hem of my shirt as he said, “Tell me to stop if you didn’t mean it”, as a means to get my permission. I shook my head indicating I wasn’t going to and I found myself divested of my top with his calloused fingertips skimming up my bare sides as my own made their way up his torso. It all seemed to happen rather fast and I was thankful I didn’t have time to second guess or analyze the source of my desire. His lips were on my neck again and then my collarbone as his hand reached around to unfasten my bra. I felt relieved and an acute sense of satisfaction when his mouth trailed lower over my breasts and finally to my nipple, happy to finally experience what I wanted to yesterday. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing and so just grasped and clutched at him as he sent wave after wave of new sensation through me, his lips moving to my belly and causing my muscles to flutter involuntarily. When he tugged off my shorts and panties I remember experiencing a self conscious awareness that wasn’t entirely comfortable, but when he leaned over me and ushered me to lay back on the bench with his lips on my neck, I felt fingers low on my belly begin to trail through my hair and then over my lips. The first finger he slipped inside of me felt so foreign yet so delicious and I could *hear* as well as feel how my body had prepared for him with wetness. I felt tight around him, but no more uncomfortable then when I delved inside of myself. It was when he added more that I started to feel strained and only when he was finally pushing his length inside of me that it began to hurt. He was slow going and as a much as I fought the urge to tell him to stay still so I could cope with the uncomfortable bit of pain, it only began to ease when he started giving the slightest thrusts of his hips in and out, my body seeming to accommodate him and stretch around him better given the movement. Feeling another person moving inside of you certainly makes you feel vulnerable in an indescribable way, and it was the build up of panicked helplessness at the thought of such an invasion that had always frightened me before. Being so prone now and at the mercy of Greg as he worked into me left me feeling rapturous of both my own body and his, that such a surrender could yield such pleasurable deliriousness left me dumbfounded and euphoric. I found myself instinctively trying to match his rhythms and when he buried his face in my neck with a groan I felt like I had been rewarded and so continued until his pace picked up and he sat back up on his knees his brow furrowed in concentration. I could feel myself close to orgasm, and drawn closer to the edge when his thumb sought out my clit, but then his hips sputtered and he was drawing in large gasps and falling forward on his hands above me before I actually reached it. We kissed for a moment more before he started to slip out of me, and when he felt it he leaned back and saw there was a little tinge of blood on the condom. I carefully pulled my panties back up to absorb what little else might come and not get any on the bench. Once we were both put back together we finally pulled out on the main road to run the errands we had meant to. I said goodbye to him that week and didn’t see him until Christmas when we ended up together again. After that there was one final summer and then he left to do mission work. Currently he’s in Thailand teaching English. I have no idea when or if he’ll be back stateside and I am fine with that.
Your man is insecure about sex, a not uncommon thing in people raised in an overly religious background. I could elaborate on how the no sex before marriage thing an outdated concept, but what it all really boils down to is his insecurities,… I would guess that other than you he has had little to no experience and as such probably has a lot of hang ups, and knowing that you’ve had another partner makes him look at his skills, or lack there of, in a more critical light… there is a flip side possibility that knowing you’ve been with someone else and thinking about it turns him on, and his obsession with your past is really him coming to terms with his desire/guilt over that desire. In either case I doubt his obsession will fade entirely to the background, and you should really decide if this is something you can live with, because it will most likely come up over and over again in your married life, and if your feeling a little resentment now image where you will be after ten years of this resentment. Good luck to you.
Loved this story. Thank you for sharing – I really hope it brings you some peace to have been able to get it out. Having grown up at camps like this, I always wondered what might go on behind the scenes, and though I eventually chose new paths for my faith, the awesomeness of a few counselors taught me a lot about myself and about treating others well. That said, there is nothing here for you to be ashamed of. The insecurities of others are not to direct how we should feel about who we are or the choices we’ve made. Uncertain experiences are shared with the people we love in the expectation of acceptance and assistance, helping us move on into new lives with them. But the more we fight the things we know about the people we love, the less our love means. This is a big time for you two, make it clear how much it means to you that he accept what you’ve done and already worked beyond – otherwise it’s impossible for him to truly love who you are. Best of luck to both of you!
What an amazing experience you had for your first sexual encounter. It’s a pity your fiancé doesn’t see that and understand what trouble and heartache it would bring your relationship if the opposite were true.
This was so beautifully written
This was beautifully written and to be honest, if I read this and was your fiancé I would be insecure too. If you explain it to him anywhere near as idyllic as this that would be hard. I would be afraid I could never live up to that. Are you getting cold feet do you think?
Your writing style is excellent
god damn your writing style reminds me of the woman who took my virginity lol XD exclent read
What?!?! It was all buildup with very little payoff. We don’t need to know THAT much backstory before getting to the point.
Dear OP, It grounds me a bit to remind myself that some women have very few life partners throughout their life in terms of sex especially after being in a world of many dating and pickup coaches where they talk about approach after approach (usually most of the girls arent even that hot that they approach). Moresothanthat, my heads been filled recently with all this stuff about guys getting girls to cheat on their boyfriends with game and giving them different emotions and so forth. Im still struggling with that and figuring out what I have to do as a person. Im prob around your age and have no real experience with girls though Ive tried. I realized that there is a bit of ‘game’ or work the man has to do … or at least me. I realized a couple years back that unless I took action and initiated myself somehow, it was close to impossible for me to ever get a girl I like. For the man in your story, it seemed very natural. But for someone like me, it is very unnatural to do so. This man just knew what to do and wasnt scared of rejection. It’s like the stuff in movies or something and yet it happens all the time around me because, of course, people are having sex and having kids and getting married. I dont think Im alone though. There are very shy guys too. Questions for you: If this is real, dont you find it weird that he was packing and prepared with a condom already? Is it true that you cant have sex before marriage in your religion? If so, it seems like he just naturally got you to forget about that by amping up your emotions and things Ive heard from pickup coaches
The buildup and details make for a better piece of writing. If you want porn without plot the internet has tons of that as well.
Well, I’d agree that a religious background and insecurities must have their fair shares of drawbacks… But come on, her one other partner is a dream man, that mustn’t help. *"Oh yeah he was playing guitar and hiking mountains and really good with kids and I met him in the summer of my 19 and now he’s in Thailand for volunteering and did I mention he was passionate with his music…"* Well fuck you Greg.
It was a good story and well-written but not so GoneWild, yeah.
I suppose I may be overly nostalgic (it was my first time?) but I love my fiancé and am completely devoted to him
Lol…I guess I do put him kind of on a pedestal but my fiancé virtually knows nothing about him or how it happen, just when. I wouldn’t torture him with details, I love him. And for the record he’s my dream man, I’ve got a running and climbing partner, a man who my family loves, shares and supports my dreams and life outlooks, is good with kids, actively lends his gifts and kindness with the community, and looks *very* good in his carpentry belt :) honestly I’m afraid he’s getting cold feet and this is what he’s fixating on because of it
There seems to be a disconnect. At the start of one paragraph he’s slipping a finger in, and then you start talking about him thrusting his hips. And then later on, he’s wearing a condom. Where was the transition? When did pants come off and the condom go on? When did he switch from fingers to penis? I feel like there is a paragraph missing. This really is an excellent story. The reason I visit GWS is for the buildup, the anticipation. Far too often I read stories that gloss over the flirting and foreplay, and spend the vast majority of the story describing intercourse. Unless it’s some fairly kinky sex, there’s not a lot you can say about intercourse that is going to be new and interesting. It’s a shame when people spend a paragraph on the hours/days/weeks of buildup, and 10 more paragraphs describing 15 minutes of sex. This story was an excellent read.
I honestly struggled writing the actual act. I didn’t want it to sound crass because that’s not how it felt to me and I just thought the explicit dictation of events, detailing those things would make it read like a different sort of experience. I like reading erotica but I admittedly am not the best at writing it because I can get squeamish, I like that feeling when reading but it was hard for me to continue when writing.
Is there any way you can write a story like this about your first time (or best time) with your fiance? Reading something like this about himself would probably be pretty amazing.
Does he know all that?
Human sexuality is inherently good, as it is part of God’s wondrous creation. Nothing to be ashamed of or sorry for. What you had was a wonderful coming of age experience. So many people have really crappy ones. Hopefully your fiancé will get over his hang ups quickly and you can both move on by creating new sexy memories together.
Very well written. I would suggest you embrace this experience. Most other people don’t have such an ideal first time. Perhaps even with a stranger, or an complete unknown, drunk at a party.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful story. I see other people have chimed in on your fiance’s insecurity, with a lot more sensitivity than I could muster, so I’ll be blunt: You did nothing wrong. Your fiance has to get the Fuck over himself. If he’s being a jerk about this now, I’m willing to bet even money he will use this as a club to beat you with throughout your marriage. You didn’t do anything he wouldn’t have given half a chance. It doesn’t matter who you both slept with in the past, you’re choosing each other *now* and if that’s not enough for him he’s an asshole. He should see a secular therapist (NOT his priest) if it’s a hangup for him, but he needs to get over himself if he wants to have a life with you.
Absolutely beautiful. And arousing. Thank You.
I totally understand your fiance. If you spend your life waiting for the day you will get to share that moment with that special someone and spend the rest of your life with that someone – that moment is built up. But love destroys that moment. Because you can’t choose the love of your lifes past. Same thing happened to me with my first GF. I am also OCD. Prob doesn’t help. But you imagine the day you will pop the cherry on your wedding night. There will only be the two of you and that’s the perfect thing. But then they never saved anything – done it all. But you love that someone and it drives you crazy. How does one get over it. A man becomes a man – he feels he becomes a man when he takes a girl for the first time – if he doesn’t get that moment then he is left wondering for the rest of his life. He is left wondering "Why did I bother holding out?" – It is a painful thing. Some people don’t get it, because they didn’t grow up in the same kind of setup. They grew up treating sex like it was meaningless fun. But to a Christian, from a mans perspective, it is the marriage and only marriage one should have. Well, his chances of getting over it are not really there. Except with a spiritual miracle. Or you let him "even" up – which is unlikely gonna help either party feel good.