Straight Female / 57
The Day I Lost My Flower
The one time I have not lived through. I am 57, a grandmother. But once I was virgin college freshman. I lived at home with my parents, brothers and sisters and my grandmother. To and from college was on the bus. It was on the bus that I met this man who took the same route home. He was much older than me, in his forties.
After several weeks he just sat with me, we talked about the day before, my test, his work head aches. His hand rested on my knee, I removed it so he asked if I didn't Iike him, and his hand was on my thigh. I let him, and he rubbed up and down my thigh. At his stop he asked me to get off with him. Nerves, fear, but I got up and followed him off the bus. Walking to his apartment building I thought about how he was going to kill me, I was a lamb being led to slaughter.
Once in his apartment, old building old apartment old furniture, it smelled old. He reached around me, with his hands on my breasts, before unbuttoning my top. My skirt was easier, two buttons and it fell to the floor. By then I realized that before he was going to kill me he was going to deflower me. My bra came off, then my panties, he admired me, turning me slowly, lifting my breast with his finger, touching my lips between my legs.
I looked at the bed, it was unmade, who knows how long since the sheets were washed. On that bed I was going to give up my flower. I laid back while he undressed, until he was completely naked except for his black socks. I closed my eyes and his body was on me, my legs were spread open, his phallus went to work, digging into me. Until it was over, my flower gone forever, his eyes seeing through me, my body unable to move.
He said he talked to me but I don't remember. I didn't die that day, I fund my way back to b6s stop, got home late inventing a story about meeting with a professor after class. My grandmother said she didn't believe me. She looked at me and told me I had been naughty.
After several weeks he just sat with me, we talked about the day before, my test, his work head aches. His hand rested on my knee, I removed it so he asked if I didn't Iike him, and his hand was on my thigh. I let him, and he rubbed up and down my thigh. At his stop he asked me to get off with him. Nerves, fear, but I got up and followed him off the bus. Walking to his apartment building I thought about how he was going to kill me, I was a lamb being led to slaughter.
Once in his apartment, old building old apartment old furniture, it smelled old. He reached around me, with his hands on my breasts, before unbuttoning my top. My skirt was easier, two buttons and it fell to the floor. By then I realized that before he was going to kill me he was going to deflower me. My bra came off, then my panties, he admired me, turning me slowly, lifting my breast with his finger, touching my lips between my legs.
I looked at the bed, it was unmade, who knows how long since the sheets were washed. On that bed I was going to give up my flower. I laid back while he undressed, until he was completely naked except for his black socks. I closed my eyes and his body was on me, my legs were spread open, his phallus went to work, digging into me. Until it was over, my flower gone forever, his eyes seeing through me, my body unable to move.
He said he talked to me but I don't remember. I didn't die that day, I fund my way back to b6s stop, got home late inventing a story about meeting with a professor after class. My grandmother said she didn't believe me. She looked at me and told me I had been naughty.
