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 adult porn casting 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 casting sex tube 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 back couch casting porn 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 back room casting calls and it bothered me enough that I didn’t get a lot of sleep and got up earlier than I usually did. giraffey33 [5
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