Voice in My Head

My senior year of high school, I almost lost my virginity. It was probably a good thing I didn’t. 

I was pretty shy with the opposite sex, but when I sat in front of this one girl during history class (an accident of alphabetical seating)she started flirting with me. She gave me rides when I needed them. (She had a car; I didn’t.) She made my life easier in little ways. Pretty soon, you know, like a couple of months later,I started to get the hint. 

Clara was not the type of girl I was usually attracted to. She had dark hair. I liked blondes. She smoked. I didn’t. Clara had a track record. I liked girls who seemed more innocent (like me, I suppose). In fact, she told me about her ex, and he sounded like bad news. He was five years older and married. He was the one who gave her her first cigarette. 

By spring (I was a very slow learner), Clara and I were spending a lot of afternoons making out. In her bedroom when her parents weren’t home. At my house at other times. I was the youngest in my family, so I was the only one still in school. Since everyone else worked, we had my house to ourselves and would play albums on the family stereo in the living room and make out on the couch. 

We’d spend a lot of time kissing horizontally wherever we were, clothing coming off one piece at a time. I seldom had to remove any clothes from either of us. She was more than willing to take her own clothes off and insisted on removing mine. 

Clara kept hinting, then stating outright, that we should go all the way. Some voice in the back of my head kept telling me that was a bad idea. So, I never let it get that far. But we got pretty close. 

Hers were the first breasts I ever saw. And felt. And tasted. I was mesmerized. She’d lie on top of me, each of us with just one piece of clothing left, and let me fondle her boobs. She’d slide down my nearly naked body and run her tits over my hard cock hiding just inside my Fruit of the Looms, asking me if I was sure I didn’t want to take it out and slide it inside her. 

Then I’d lay on top of her, my briefs grinding against her panties, moving our hips to the music. Her favorite was any song that picked up tempo from beginning to end. She said it was great to keep up with the changing beat while fucking, something she told me she learned from her ex-boyfriend. We were so close. All we had to do was strip off our underwear and do it. 

I wanted to so much. My cock ached. Her pussy was right there. I could feel it! Still, there was that voice telling me no. So I abstained. But my briefs and her panties got very wet. 

For senior prom, we went to dinner, then attended all the functions that the class had lined up. Well, most of them. We made it to the dance, then the drive-in movie. I don’t remember much about the movie. She had my tux pants and my briefs down below my knees and was stroking and sucking my cock, hoping I’d get so hot, I couldn’t say no to intercourse. She seemed almost desperate. But I held out. She was pissed. We didn’t make it to the prom breakfast.

Eventually, our differences got to be too much and we split up. My dick didn’t agree to the separation but the voice in my head was much happier. 

A couple of weeks later, a mutual friend told me that Clara was about three months pregnant by her “ex-boyfriend,” the one who liked fucking to music. 

Now I was pissed. It was clear that she had been fucking him while we were dating and that if I had said yes to intercourse, I was her safety. If she got pregnant, by either of us, I was the guy who would marry her. The other guy wouldn’t. And he didn’t, leaving her to the life of a single mom in the late 1960s. I certainly felt sorry for her but I aldd also felt very used. 

I think about her sometimes, especially when I hear certain songs on the radio. My dick twitches a bit as I remember our afternoon make out sessions. But I’m still thankful for that voice in my head that kept me a virgin.