Short Story: Vanishing Virginity ...

A boy who wanted my body more than my mind

Next weekend?..

??Antonio's bed was cozier than mine, or maybe it just felt that way because he was always in it with me. Right now, he had his chest pressed against my back, one hand intertwined with mine and the other caressing my breast over my bra.

"We've been dating for six months," he whispered into my ear in his raspy morning voice. "How much longer are you going to make me wait?"

"Wait for what?" I asked, wanting the conversation to be over before it even began.

"You know what," he said slipping a hand under my shirt to touch the sensitive skin of my stomach.

???Antonio was smart, sexy, sweet, and sensitive--the only downside was that he would not let up about sex. I was a virgin. He wasn't. He wanted to change that. I didn't.

"Don't you think it's about time?" he asked, loosening his grasp on me so I could flip over to face him. "Or do I not deserve it?"

I ignored his cute little smirk, not allowing myself to get swept away by his looks. "Your parents are in the other room," I mumbled, speaking more into the pillow than into the air.

"They won't be next weekend. It'll be just you and me and that double mint ice cream you like. Maybe I'll even make you some Bruschetta. Put some music on. Make you feel like we're in Italy."

"You want to sleep with me that badly, huh?"

"No. I just love you that much."

That's all it took. It was the first time he had said the L word and it made my insides shiver. He could've asked me to do anything in that moment and I would've agreed. That's why I nodded and said, "Okay. Next weekend."


I returned to ???Antonio's place with lacy, dark blue lingerie hidden beneath a tan overcoat. I'd seen a woman wear something like it in a movie once and it had seemed like a good idea before I'd left my driveway. But now that I was standing on his stoop, with his neighbor innocently mowing the lawn next door, I felt differently.

"You look gorgeous," ???Antonio said when he finally opened the door. He had on a red button down shirt and slacks, and I could smell his cologne from five feet away. "Please tell me you're naked under all of that."

"You'd be close."

A look of lust sparkled in his eyes. Over his shoulder, I could see the dinner table set up with candles and flowers, as promised. However, when he led me inside, he said, "It'll be about an hour until it's all ready, so..."

His kitchen was connected to the living room, so he picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. Then he guided me to the couch.

Is that where he wanted it to happen? Right there on the sofa? Or would he bring me up to his bedroom later, after dinner? I couldn't decide if I wanted to get it over with or if I wanted time to adjust.

After I took a seat, he stood over me as he undid the belt of my coat and pulled the sleeves down my shoulders. When he got a good look at my exposed skin, he released a little moan and pressed his lips against mine.

He ran his tongue over my upper lip and I let him inside of my mouth, but I didn't feel the sparks I usually felt when we embraced. Everything felt forced.

The first time should've be passionate. Spontaneous. Fun. Not whatever the hell this was.

That's why, when he looped his fingers through my underwear to slide them down, I pressed my hand against his chest and said, "I can't." "Of course you can," he said without hesitation, moving his lips down toward my neck. "It won't be that bad. Promise."

"No." I shoved his chest this time to keep him away. "I'm not ready."

"Come on," he said, finally letting his annoyance show through his voice. "I love you."

Was that his whole argument? "If you loved me, you wouldn't be pressuring me to sleep with you," I said. "What? You think I'm lying about how I feel or something?"

I grabbed the sleeves of my coat to pull it back on.

When I looked at him, he was in the process of rolling his eyes and saying, "Do you know how many girls I've slept with on the first date? Waiting this long for you is a big deal. You should be thanking me for sticking around."

I didn't care if other girls had sex with strangers. I didn't judge. But I didn't agree with them, either. That's why I said, "It might be years until I'm ready. I don't know, I might wait until marriage."

"No one waits until marriage anymore."

"Well, I'm waiting until I'm comfortable."

"How much more comfortable can you get? I set this whole thing up. I made you dinner. And think of how many dinners I've bought you over--"

"And that means I owe you sex?"

He raised his eyebrows, like the answer was obvious. "I mean..."

I blinked. Then I blinked again. My lashes fluttered until I found the strength to walk out of his living room, down the porch steps, and into my car.

As much as I wanted to cry over the breakup we didn't even have to speak to agree upon, I never did. My eyes remained dry, because I found myself happier alone than in a relationship where love had requirements.

Eventually, I'd find a guy I'd be comfortable sleeping with. Or maybe I'd be alone forever. Either way, it was better than being with a boy
who wanted my body more than my mind.


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