The sun sparkled on the Mediterranean Sea. As the Catalan countryside rolled past him, Carlo P. looked out of the window from the train. It was beautiful here, no doubt. Coming to study his history degree from Rome, he knew the Spanish climate here would agree with him. It was mid-September in his eighteenth year. He had the whole rest of his life ahead of him.

Freshers’ week passed. Carlo had partied hard and was ready to hit the books on Monday. He’d even found a group of friends with whom he could potentially share a flat and made some progress with the basic steps of learning Catalan.

He spent Saturday at the beach, working on his tan. He went for a run and signed up for a ‘trial session’ at the local gym. When the time came to shower and dress after his workout, he felt terrific. He saw himself in the mirror. His chest was buff. His skin was a healthy brown. He looked great.

Now he had, at last, escaped his parental home, it was surely only a matter of time before he popped his cherry. All those years of no privacy, no opportunities in the Conservative circles his strict parents moved in. It would be soon now. He looked at his body in the mirror. It had to be soon. He couldn’t wait much longer. Not when all his friends had done it. Or at least, not when all his friends claimed they had. Of course, none of them knew that he was still a virgin.

Cristina M. brushed her long brown hair in readiness for her sixth shift at the coffee house. She’d taken the job the week that all the students at the local University arrived. It hadn’t been why she’d taken it, but all these young guys passing through her café was definitely a perk of the job. Cristina was eighteen years old. She’d decided Uni wasn’t for her, at least not for now. She needed to be sure about what direction she wanted to take, and she simply couldn’t make that commitment yet.  

And the café was a cool place to work. The staff were young. The music was current. She got a staff discount. It was all good.

Cristina poured out another latte for another punter. The coffee bar was half full, for now. It was getting close to closing time. Looking up, she saw Carlo come in. Tight black t-shirt. He looked good. But why did he bring the books? Who did he think he was kidding? He’d been in every night since he’d introduced himself. And they’d flirted and now he had her number. Bless him, he hadn’t been in town long. He didn't speak the language so well. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to hang out.

“Hey, Carlo. Making a head start on the books?” she said drily.

“Yeah. Hey, Cristina… I was wondering what time you get off work? I was going to head out and I’d love some company.”

She smiled. At last, he was at least being honest about why he was there! Why not? She hadn’t been out this week.

“Nine o’clock.”

“Meet at the Yacht club bar at ten?”

“Great!”

They met and sat in the bar, which had a nice view of the harbour. They watched the boats of the impossibly rich bump up and down in the water and talked about where they’d like to sail them to. What they’d do if they had that kind of money. They learned about each other. Cristina told him about growing up with a twin sister. She told him about her hopes of being a writer, and the food blog she kept. Carlo told her about the great ruins of his home city, and how they had inspired him to study the past for his degree. They both watched their spending carefully but enjoyed each other’s company so much that they didn’t need lots to drink to overcome nerves.

At last, the sun went down. They drank up and paid the bill and agreed to take a walk along the shore.

They walked along the deserted beach. Cristina took his hand. Carlo suddenly stopped. He stepped in front of her. Her eyes did not blink as he looked deep into them. He put his fingers gently to her temple, and then kissed her. She kissed him. The sea was lapping at their feet. A wave ran over their shoes.

“Tide!”

They walked three meters further and then they noticed the windbreak. Someone had left a blue windbreak open on the beach, open to the cliff but not to the beach in general. It would provide shelter and privacy. A cocoon.

They lay down together. The sand was cool in the night. They kissed and then Cristina slipped her hand under his shirt. Carlo was thrilled with the human contact on his skin. Her cotton shirt was tucked into her black trousers. Carlo pulled her shirt out and slipped his hand under hers. He held his hand to her side, and then he ran his palm across her belly. Where was that belly button? Blind, he used his index finger to find it, and it was shallow and soft and he pressed into it. He had always found the navel the sexiest part of a woman’s body.

Cristina kissed Carlo’s neck. She felt Carlo’s muscles and the cricks in his neck and where bone protruded slightly at the shoulders. She ran her hand up to his chest and it was firm. She pressed her hand to the left of his chest then moved, feeling the dip between his ribcage, to the right. He had a nice body. He was an attractive young man, and her body was definitely warming to him.

Carlo slowly moved his hand upwards, hardly daring to reach her breasts in case permission would be denied. In case that was as far as he’d be allowed to go. At any moment, he was sure she’d object, or a stranger would pass by and break the spell, or lightning would strike him dead but…no. His hand reached up and squeezed her breast through her bra. It was soft and malleable, and she kissed him even firmer.

Cristina felt him take her left breast in her hand and she sighed inwardly. It continued to surprise her that men did find her small breasts attractive. All those hours she’d wasted in front of the mirror, imagining a boob job. Imagining a boyfriend wearing a look of disappointment as she nervously bared her breasts for him. She smiled. Then she reached down, pulled up her shirt, exposing her midriff and breasts. Carlo looked up. Her eyes motioned to say ‘kiss me’.

He did. He pressed his lips to her bare flesh and breathed deep to catch what little remained of her scent after the wind had spirited most of it away. He kissed Cristina’s breasts urgently, as if they could be snatched from him any moment.

When he’d made love to her breasts, she asked him to return for more tongue kissing. She felt his arm reach behind her neck, and he held his other hand to her bare side. Carlo kissed her seriously and he left no inch of her mouth unexplored. Now he was holding her bottom lip between his lips. Now, his tongue was slithering along her teeth. Now their tongues were locked together. There was a semi-reverence in his kiss that seemed to say, “I want nothing in the world more than to be here with you.”

When they’d made out for a few more minutes, Cristina realized that she was feeling a desire for physical intimacy at that moment that needed to be satisfied. If she got up and walked away now, she wouldn’t sleep. She’d regret it forever. She reached down. She unbuttoned his trousers. And she reached inside them and felt his penis inside her hand.

Carlo felt Cristina’s hand fumble at his clothes and then breach his clothing. Her hand was a little cold, but oh! She was fondling his circumcised glans and now she was running her hand down and gripping the base. It felt great! It felt just as he’d imagined it would, but better. He knew it was down to him now to take things further…

She picked up his wrist, the hand of which was busy with her breast, and pulled it downwards. Then she opened her trousers and pushed his hand down to the outside of the cotton of her knickers. She felt it as he rubbed her a little on the outside, and his cock stiffened as he caressed her mound gently.

“Ready?” Carlo asked. She nodded. She lifted her bum slightly and pulled her panties down, so they were clear of her ass. Carlo looked down at her vagina. Pink and soft and with a thin mat of trimmed black hair. There was no pretending it was the most aesthetically beautiful part of her body, but it stirred something in him all the same. He half wanted to go down on her but decided to try that another time. He needed to get his penis into action. He’d waited eighteen years. Why wait longer? Carlo pulled down his pants, and his cock was free. He moved up and handled it up to her pussy and saw her spread her legs. He was worried he wouldn’t last. He was already rock-hard, and he wasn’t even inside her yet.

She reached down to help him inside. Being inside her pussy was amazing. It was soft and wet, and the grip of her lips was quite different from her hand…

Cristina felt the penis enter her and immediately it felt good. Immediately she wanted closer contact, and she reached up and pulled him downwards so that he was within kissing range. Carlo responded eagerly, and their tongues locked. Cristina had never had sex in such a public place before! It felt rather naughty, yet she wasn’t afraid.  

For a second, Carlo thought of other women he might have lost his virginity with. There was one who perhaps was being rather cheated, who perhaps had a better claim. Her name was Joana. He’d been the first to kiss her. He’d taken her to the school prom. He’d bought her flowers. He’d also sat with her in hospital for an evening once. But they’d never found the right evening and time had drifted on. They’d grown apart, just a little. Still, he could always make it up to her later. But perhaps it should have been her.

They kissed for a moment. No thrusting, no pumping. His cock was suspended inside her. Carlo was savouring the first moments of lovemaking in his life. He’d thought about this moment since he knew what sex was.

Carlo gave a thrust and then another and he was already feeling the first stirrings of orgasm. He closed his eyes and lowered himself, so he was down at Cristina’s level. His eyes closed, he kissed her neck, but he concentrated on the feeling of the breeze on his bare bottom as he moved up and down inside her, and he focused then on the sounds of the waves. Tuning in to other senses helped delay the orgasm a little…

Cristina had begun to suspect it was his first time. Carlo certainly seemed nervous. There was a sense of awe and wonder at what he was doing in his manner that betrayed his inexperience. She decided not to embarrass him by asking. She knew guys didn’t last long on their first time, so she had to make the most of it. She knew to rub herself and she encouraged Carlo to fondle her nipples and kiss her neck…

Carlo knew orgasm was not far away now and he suddenly thought that he might not see Cristina naked again, so he looked down at her bare breasts and her soft white belly and her pussy and her inner thighs and he drank it all in, determined to take a mental photograph for his memory.

Suddenly, Cristina was close. It came quickly upon her, and she leant up and whispered, “Faster!” in his ear.

Carlo, glad to be invited, doubled his stroke and she felt his cock rub her insides, felt her first…was it going to come? It was a race against time as he was close…with a slight tremble and an oozing of juices, she came. It was in the nick of time, for three thrusts later Carlo orgasmed inside her with a soft moan. She felt his cock deflate rapidly inside her.

It was hardly the orgasm of a lifetime for Cristina. But it would do for a night.

He pulled out, feeling slightly triumphant but also anxious that they had not used contraception. They made out briefly, then got dressed and got up. Now the moment had passed and without the physical proximity, the wind was chill on their flesh. They quickly dressed and got up to walk back to the town from the beach.

“That was great!” he enthused.

Cristina nodded. Then, she added slyly, “It WAS good…for your first time!”

“What? First time? Wasn’t my first time!”

“Oh yeah? I’ll believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.”

“Hey! Hand on heart! It wasn’t your first time, right?”

“No, Carlo.”

“First time on the beach though?”

“Maybe.” She giggled.

“Ha! I’ll take that…”

The lovers walked along the beach, and they bonded and flirted as the waning moon looked on benevolently. They kissed good night and they both went home. Carlo barely slept a wink. At last, the monkey was off his back. He was a man.

The next morning, he sat in the Café and opened his history textbook.

“The Roman period of Spanish history began with a naval invasion on the beach…”