I recall the bros and I agreeing that there are NO virgin women aged 20 and up.

Selena was a virgin at 34.

Selena is one of the sexier names; it belongs to some sexy celebrities and some sexy normies. But this Selena was ugly to most guys. I didn’t realize she was supposedly ugly until I brought her up to the bros. “Really? You think she’s ugz?”

“Do you have a single eye in your skull?”

I have two eyes, but I’ve been known to be attracted to unconventional looks. Don’t get carried away; I’m not out here calling anything with a hole beautiful. I’m not a chubby chaser either; that’s one of the other bros’ deals. But goofy faces, weird bodily proportions, and not knowing how to do her makeup or clothes were magnetic to me.

So Selena and I worked the same part-time job. And… I commenced the flirting. I’ve said this in another series: my flirt technique is to ask the woman a lot of questions. It God damned works. Ask about her this, ask about her that. Make listening expressions and sounds, and ask questions about her answers. If she says something mundane, react to it like she just gave you a riddle that needs a team of investigators to untangle and decode it. When you see her the next time, and this will often seal her reciprocal interest, ask her questions that show you not only remember what she said but that you thought about her answers since. The closer you get to the stalker zone, WITHOUT CROSSING INTO THE STALKER ZONE, the better.

This worked on Selena.

We were dating within days of my becoming her de facto biographer. Asking all those questions got me to the bottom of her biggest insecurity fast; she told me she’d never had sex.

“For different reasons, it didn’t happen.”

This is the first time I didn’t know what to say because all the possible responses floating in my head were stupid: that’s because most guys think you’re mid-at-best but not me; you didn’t slut up your wardrobe enough; try lowering your standards in men; I’ll fuck you; did you try going home drunk with a stranger, etc. She took my brain freeze to mean I was deeply moved or something.

“Yeah. It’s lonely, but not, like, that bad; don’t make that face.” And she blushed.

“I won’t.”

“Can I ask you a question for a change?”

“Why not? Ask.”

“I’m curious why you’re not… don’t… never mind.”

“What? Ask.”

“You’re 23, I’m 34.”

“So?”

“Is that why you’re interested in me? Is this a cougar thing, like a checkbox?”

I laughed, loud. “I already checked that box.”

(I hadn’t.)

She breathed, relieved. “Then older is your type?”

I leaned in. “You don’t seem older, though. Like, when someone says older, I imagine… older-older. I don’t think anyone sees us together and notices… an age gap. Right?”

She blushed again. “I don’t know what to do.”

I didn’t know what she meant. “Huh? Do about what?”

“How to take this to the next level,” she said and looked away, shy.

“Oh.” What? Hey. She meant…? Yeah, she did. “Oh!”

She wobbled her leg around. “So?”

I shrugged. “Location. First of all. You can’t do it in public, you know.”

She giggled at that. “You can’t? Like, we can’t do it right here?” She held her arms out at the riverwalk cafe we were meeting at.

“I’ve got roommates.” I shook my head.

“I live with my mom and dad.” She shook her head.

I stood and took her hand. “Come on.”

We walked, fingers locked, and she whispered, “This is weird.”

I looked for a hotel, motel, whatever… walking and checking my map app with my free hand. I swore I saw one right around here. “What’s weird?”

“A man half-frantic, leading me through public in search of a place to… to fuck me.”

I felt a pang in my chest; was this bad? “You’re right. Oof. I just got excited…”

“No, I like it.” She smiled.

“Yeah?” A wave of reassurance, aura sustained.

“It’s making me horny,” she whispered.

That whisper got converted into an instant, full-on erection, and so now I was hustling along the sidewalk and through crosswalks with an odd gait because each step was compression, torturing my visible-to-oncoming-pedestrians bulge.

At last I found a room, tapped my card at the counter, and we were riding the elevator up together.

She stood next to me going up, and I nodded. “Yep.”

She snorted, eyes squinting shut, and claw-slapped me across my chest. “Yep? What does yep mean? Why did you say it like that?”

The elevator door opened. I walked the wrong way down the hall, counting room numbers, realized it, turned, and bumped into her because she was on my heels. “This way.”

Beep! Click! Into the room I went with her hanging by my elbow. Swoosh… click… shut. I slipped the key card in to get the lights on, popped the window for a breeze, pulled the curtains shut, paired my playlist to the TV, and… she was in the shower? Hey! She was in the shower; now that would be steamy.

I cracked the bathroom door, and she shouted so terribly, with the resonance of a tile bathroom, that I clasped my hands over my ears. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t come in!”

I shut the bathroom door and supposed I’d just sit on the bed. Better yet, I’d undress so when she came out she’d find me sitting back shirtless, blanket over my lower half. If that made her scream too, then I don’t know what to tell anybody, but she deserves to be a virgin. I waited, listening to her brushing her teeth, blow-drying her hair, flushing the toilet, talking to someone on the phone in Spanish; I waited in the bed until my erection had gone. I telepathically communicated with my penis: Nah, listen, don’t go; there’s a naked woman in there; she’ll be out any minute. Nah, you listen, I can’t just stand around being hard all day… You can call me when you got some fuck to do. She’s right here; if you go, you’ll just have to come right back. And he left anyway.

And then the bathroom door popped open, and out she came wearing a bathrobe. She stood there staring at me, and I just let her stand there, looking at each other in silence. And then she spoke. “Don’t make me do anal?”

I was flabbergasted. “Who said anything about anal? And I’m not going to make you do anything.”

She raised her finger to silence me. “And don’t gag me.”

I shook my head. “No gagging, OK.”

“Don’t slap me, or choke me, or pull my hair hard, or what else, or twist my nipples.” And she kept going on like this.

“I won’t. I’m not even into most of that shit,” I said.

“No urine or toilet stuff.” She wouldn’t stop. I was going to jump out the fucking window.

“OK. Got it. Vanilla sex,” I assured her in a nice good-boy tone.

“What?” She cocked her eyebrow and knit her brow at me. “What is that?”

“Vanilla, no sprinkles, no syrup, just a single scoop of normal, plain sex.” I talked with my hands like I was sitting there with a bowl of ice cream and a spoon between my fingers.

She made this sudden pouting face at me. “I’m sorry. Was that stupid?”

“Nothing was stupid. Come here and sit next to me.” I patted the open space in bed beside me.

She obeyed, thank fuck! She came and sat right down beside me and put her feet up in the bed. Except she was on top of the blanket while I was under it.

We made out. It was something she had done before. And she went from sitting next to me to throwing a leg over my lap, to sitting on my lap. All of that with the blanket between my privates and hers! But then she stopped; she could feel my angry cock trapped under the blanket, pressing against her hams. She reached a hand down and felt the blanket mound.

I pulled the blanket out from between us and lifted it over her, covering her also. She took her bathrobe off under the blanket where I couldn’t see her body. And then she lay atop me, skin-to-skin. I groped at her; she groped at me, eyes locked on eyes. But she kept bypassing my cock like it was naughty to touch a wiener. I sighed, took her by the wrist, and planted her hand on my genitals, holding it there. She had a big reaction to that; her eyes rolled white and shut, her lips parted, and she seemed to enter some kind of euphoric state… just to have a man’s meat filling her hand! I felt her fingers begin to articulate, poke, press, pinch, strum, stroke, and explore my dick and balls. Tentatively, slowly, thoroughly, she was feeling the texture, firmness, warmth, skin laxity and wrinkling, slick oily wetness, hair, pulse, weightiness, and dimensions of my manhood. I didn’t rush her; she was completely loving it, and I’d never had a woman give that kind of fascinated attention to my anatomy. It was a kind of reverence I didn’t know a person could have for… um… for my goods.

She opened her eyes and asked, almost too quietly to hear, “Can I look?”

“Yeah.” And her head retracted under the blanket like a turtle into its shell. My legs spread wide, she curled up between them, and I felt her breath on my groin, then her hands manipulating my stuff.

It was feeling pretty good; she wasn’t working me, but this counterintuitive curious examination was… doing stuff to me, and got me rock solid. Then she began mumbling under there. “Mm-bb-nn-oh?”

“What?” I lifted the blanket and looked under there for her.

She looked up at me like a miner down a shaft. “Can I do fellatio to you?”

“You don’t have to ask, Selena.”

“So yes?” She had me by the neck of my dick, guiding it to her mouth like a sucker.

“Please.” And I watched, waiting for her to say Ah and get a mouthful of me.

“Close the blanket first,” she said.

I did. And in 3, 2, 1… I felt her lips closing around my glans.

That was heaven. I let every muscle and tendon in my body go slack as she sucked the top half of my dick. But then… she stopped, and I heard from under the blanket, “That was nice. Thank you.”

“Thank you what? Are you done?” I spoke to the mound of human down below.

“I think so. Are you done? Oh? Do you want me to do it more?” she asked.

“Yes. Please,” I answered.

And she got back to it. “There. That’s what I need.”

I watched the mound rise-lower-rise-lower enough times that I began lifting it away. First I saw her hair obstructing any view of her face, then her shoulders, and more until the blanket had fallen away to reveal the fully nude Selena, kneeling over my groin, taking my cock in her mouth, making little saliva sounds.

“Selena…” I said.

She looked up at me, cheeks hollowed out. “Mm-hmm.”

“I wanna 69,” I said.

“Hm?” She looked befuddled, with my dick pressing her cheek out.

“Rotate. Keep sucking but put your ass in my face. OK?” And I thought that was clear enough.

Rotate she did, not letting my dick fall from her mouth. It was absurd, her arms and legs moving like a sidewalking crab as she kept her lips glued to my shaft. Whatever, the important thing is she did manage to get her ass in my face, knees straddling my torso. I lay back, hands on either ass cheek, and got to eating that pussy.

She spit my dick out and hugged me around my legs, making all kinds of moaning and whimpering and squealing. “Ah my gosh! Your tongue! Inside-my-rrrmmm!”

This was going excellently. As I ate her pussy with more hunger, she sucked my dick with more vigor. She had no experience, and I believed that. That she was giving bad head somehow made it really good. She didn’t know what to do with her tongue, she kept toothing me, she couldn’t keep a rhythm, she would start-stop-start and change up shit at random. I’m not sure what she was doing… but she was doing it hard!

I just about drowned in her overpouring virgin vagina. Her pubic hair glistened damp with her own excitement, and her clit was… I’m not shaming big clits, I love big clits, but her clit was maxing out. I went after it, I picked on it, I tongue-flicked it… and that’s when she began pulling from me. I pursued, she fled. I pursued, she fled. It got to the point she was going into a tumble or some shit and I was leaned all the way forward in some kind of yoga nonsense. If we kept that up, we were going to become a pair of spinning ouroboros. I came up for air and slapped her ass, meaning to signal for her to stop before we went off over the bed.

“Ah!”

But then I remembered, oh no. “Sorry! I forgot you said no slapping. Sorry.”

And she started this sniffling whimpering that put TERROR in me. “Selena, Selena, I’m sorry, I just forgot.”

And then she mumbled into the blanket, “Do it again.”

“Huh?” I wasn’t sure she said what I heard her say.

“Slap my ass again!” She demanded it with fury!

I got a devilish grin. Oh God, it was on. I smacked her big brown butt again and again. “Ah! Oh! Eh!” She screamed all the vowels, some of them with the Spanish accents. “Éh! Íh!”

With her face in the bed and ass high in the air, I got up onto my knees and invited myself to penetrate her from behind. She was so wet and tented I could just about see down into her pussy like you could toss quarters in and make a wish. My wish was to blast that middle-aged virginal cunt, so I tossed in my full fuck.

She breathed like she was having seizures at one point, and then at another point slow and deep, like she was breathing for a doctor’s stethoscope on her back. I slapped and pounded and slapped and pounded. Her ass reverberated against me and her moans undulated. “A-m I-i g-o-o-o-d?”

“So, so good. Selena?”

“Y-e-a-a-h?”

I didn’t have anything to say. I had to cum. And I pulled her as hard into myself as my hands around her waist and pelvis could. “Rmmm! Shhh! Fhhh!” I felt my ejaculate rush through my urethra like it all wanted out in one shot… and then another and another. That’s the kind of orgasm where you kind of lose consciousness and attain superconsciousness simultaneously. I was one with Selena’s… Selena. The woman. And then, disconnect, pullout.

I lay back and sat crisscross applesauce, my creamy cock still semi-hard hanging over onto my thigh. Selena flew onto her feet, spread her legs, and hunched over to inspect her groin. She watched it for about eight seconds before… there it was… she gasped as my sauce began dripping out. “It’s… that’s your sperm!” She looked to me, making that goofy, pretty face.

“Yep.”