It's Wrong To Make Her Cry...
Back in the 80's, in College, I met this girl, Christine. It was during registration for my second year of Theatre Studies. Christine was manning a desk at the very end of the main atrium. Next to the doors where the students left through, after the long line ups of selecting they're courses and collecting class books.
Christine was trying and not succeeding to find volunteers for the school newspaper, as she was too shy to get anyones attention and there were no signs supplied by the group to even make anyone see there was a student group present at the table.
This darling, petite, dark haired blue eyed Italian girl. With a Romany nose, creamy skin and dust of cappuccino freckles across her nose and cheeks took every breath away from me, the minute I laid eyes on her. But, it was her bright white incandescent smile that welcomed me to the table, and her laughing at my own nervous laughter ( which I still have today with most beautiful women ) while trying to chat her up, made me stay all evening as frustrated, tired students bullied past to the main doors.
By the end of the night, all the students had checked in for the semester and were long gone, but we were still there. I told her I'd give her a ride home in my little rusty green rabbit, if she'd let me go back to the theatre to get my carpentry tools. Their, at the equipment lockers we made out till the security kicked us out. And for the next two semesters I had my first, and only college girl friend.
As she was from a very strict catholic, chicago family, there was no intercourse during our relationship. Over at my place when she was supposed to be studying, we were instead making out like bandits. Staying fully clothed, hard on pressing thru my jeans I'd Kiss her til she'd let me pull off her clothes and eat her pussy for hours ( which is why I'm probably very good at that... And going down on a woman is still a big deal to me when it comes to sex. ) Desperately hoping that she would give in to my deep desires to loose my virginity with her. - I realise now that my life would have probably been very different if she had relented. Her friends joked at us being practically married. Once, one of her friends draped my checkered PLO scarf over her head for fun. When she looked at me from underneath it, blushing like a bride. I have to admit I was so taken with the dream of being with her forever.
But, there was this other more pressing dream that one day, after hours of making out and pleasuring her that she would beg me to fuck her, and I would know her sweet, deep insides. Throughout the year this singular fantasy made me pursue her chastity relentlessly. That summer, still wanting what I could not have. I drove over to her place in Delta and spent all night one weekend, when her parents where away on a vacation in June. I swore I would not leave without my prize.
Early in the morning, During our olympic marathon foreplay, while my blue balls ached inside my jeans. Licking away between her soft thighs, Christine began to cry. My father taught me never to make or let a girl cry. As if this was the greatest crime a man could be party to. And then, Christine told me everything in the middle of her, bed. naked in my arms, shedding volumes of tears... that our foreplay was tearing her apart.
That she'd applied to transfer to Concordia university instead of going to UBC where I was going to do my BFA in Theatre lighting. She felt so bad that she'd hurt me by going against what we'd decided in between making out and me trying to win her virginity. My dream.. and I thought hers.. of Continuing to date and go to school here.
At the time all I could think of was. "Well, We have the summer till you leave" I still love you and we can be friends... Because I didn't want to lose any chance at finally becoming a man in this beautiful girl's arms. The next day it was over...He parents where back and she had all the stuff that I'd ever left over in her room in a little shoe box for me at her front door. As she handed the box to me through the screen door I could tell that she'd been crying all day.
Seconds earlier, as I walked up the door I felt depressed, angry and really pissed off that she'd never told me of what she decided and what she really wanted. Feeling that she'd lied to me about everything...Staying together... getting a place in Vancouver. Letting me finally make love to her completely...becoming my wife. All those little love letters from her over the last 6 months, back in my apartment were lies. But, when I saw those red eyes and tear stained cheeks all of that went away. I felt ashamed for being so selfish and blind to this petite lovely girl that I just never wanted to be parted from, but really never knew.
I went home, cut out the words and sentences of the love letters she'd given me over 2 semesters that seemed true. And burnt the rest in the shoe box that previously held my watch, runners and other little things...
I've grown up since then... I swore I'd never want to stress a woman out like that again. And tonight as we spoke about what we were to each other and I asked her what she wanted.. Catherine began to shed tears.
Back in the 80's, in College, I met this girl, Christine. It was during registration for my second year of Theatre Studies. Christine was manning a desk at the very end of the main atrium. Next to the doors where the students left through, after the long line ups of selecting they're courses and collecting class books.
Christine was trying and not succeeding to find volunteers for the school newspaper, as she was too shy to get anyones attention and there were no signs supplied by the group to even make anyone see there was a student group present at the table.
This darling, petite, dark haired blue eyed Italian girl. With a Romany nose, creamy skin and dust of cappuccino freckles across her nose and cheeks took every breath away from me, the minute I laid eyes on her. But, it was her bright white incandescent smile that welcomed me to the table, and her laughing at my own nervous laughter ( which I still have today with most beautiful women ) while trying to chat her up, made me stay all evening as frustrated, tired students bullied past to the main doors.
By the end of the night, all the students had checked in for the semester and were long gone, but we were still there. I told her I'd give her a ride home in my little rusty green rabbit, if she'd let me go back to the theatre to get my carpentry tools. Their, at the equipment lockers we made out till the security kicked us out. And for the next two semesters I had my first, and only college girl friend.
As she was from a very strict catholic, chicago family, there was no intercourse during our relationship. Over at my place when she was supposed to be studying, we were instead making out like bandits. Staying fully clothed, hard on pressing thru my jeans I'd Kiss her til she'd let me pull off her clothes and eat her pussy for hours ( which is why I'm probably very good at that... And going down on a woman is still a big deal to me when it comes to sex. ) Desperately hoping that she would give in to my deep desires to loose my virginity with her. - I realise now that my life would have probably been very different if she had relented. Her friends joked at us being practically married. Once, one of her friends draped my checkered PLO scarf over her head for fun. When she looked at me from underneath it, blushing like a bride. I have to admit I was so taken with the dream of being with her forever.
But, there was this other more pressing dream that one day, after hours of making out and pleasuring her that she would beg me to fuck her, and I would know her sweet, deep insides. Throughout the year this singular fantasy made me pursue her chastity relentlessly. That summer, still wanting what I could not have. I drove over to her place in Delta and spent all night one weekend, when her parents where away on a vacation in June. I swore I would not leave without my prize.
Early in the morning, During our olympic marathon foreplay, while my blue balls ached inside my jeans. Licking away between her soft thighs, Christine began to cry. My father taught me never to make or let a girl cry. As if this was the greatest crime a man could be party to. And then, Christine told me everything in the middle of her, bed. naked in my arms, shedding volumes of tears... that our foreplay was tearing her apart.
That she'd applied to transfer to Concordia university instead of going to UBC where I was going to do my BFA in Theatre lighting. She felt so bad that she'd hurt me by going against what we'd decided in between making out and me trying to win her virginity. My dream.. and I thought hers.. of Continuing to date and go to school here.
At the time all I could think of was. "Well, We have the summer till you leave" I still love you and we can be friends... Because I didn't want to lose any chance at finally becoming a man in this beautiful girl's arms. The next day it was over...He parents where back and she had all the stuff that I'd ever left over in her room in a little shoe box for me at her front door. As she handed the box to me through the screen door I could tell that she'd been crying all day.
Seconds earlier, as I walked up the door I felt depressed, angry and really pissed off that she'd never told me of what she decided and what she really wanted. Feeling that she'd lied to me about everything...Staying together... getting a place in Vancouver. Letting me finally make love to her completely...becoming my wife. All those little love letters from her over the last 6 months, back in my apartment were lies. But, when I saw those red eyes and tear stained cheeks all of that went away. I felt ashamed for being so selfish and blind to this petite lovely girl that I just never wanted to be parted from, but really never knew.
I went home, cut out the words and sentences of the love letters she'd given me over 2 semesters that seemed true. And burnt the rest in the shoe box that previously held my watch, runners and other little things...
I've grown up since then... I swore I'd never want to stress a woman out like that again. And tonight as we spoke about what we were to each other and I asked her what she wanted.. Catherine began to shed tears.
guitargeek:
That's what religion is good for, and I bet she regrets her decision to this day.
realistic67:
I often wonder where and who she is now...