A Virgin Spanko Wimp

After we had been meeting for some time, College Guy and I began exploring other areas that were not spanking- related, areas that were much more vanilla, or at least, much more the norm. For me, however, these activities were scarier than any spanking could ever be. And equally exciting.

There is no easy way to put this, and I hope you all don't think I'm making this up, but the truth is that I am a virgin. College Guy and I have never had vaginal sex. Writing that fact in this post is incredibly embarrassing to me, and not because I'm ashamed of some kind of personal convictions. My virginity, while at a time due to religous conviction, is presently only due to fear and discomfort while trying to have sex. I feel it is my own stupid fault and due to great wimpiness.

Here I am, a spanko with huge pain tolerance. My bottom can withstand just about anything. But when it comes to my pussy, I am, well, a pussy.

I grew up very conservatively, with anything sexual outside of marriage denounced as horrid sin.
This, I believe, is some of the problem. I don't know what the rest of the problem is.

I have come a long way though, mostly due to College Guy and his patience coupled with unyielding persistence.

How I need his persistence.

When we first met, he could hardly touch me "down there", without me freaking out. And he, being a virgin as well (aw, ain't it cute, I know..I know..) didn't really know what he was doing. He googled info on what to do and we talked a lot. We've dabbled  with a lot of different ideas and ways of playing. It's been a growing experience, but the growth, I feel, has been slow on my part.

But there has been some growth.  Half the time when he touches me now, I don't slap his hands away and try to flip over onto my stomach so that he'll only touch my bottom. One time, he strapped my hands for knocking his hands away from my pussy.

"You will use your mouth and not your hands to tell me what you want, young lady. You will talk to me. Do you understand?"

But I still have huge problems with it all. I have learned to tolerate and actally greatly enjoy outside stimulation, but any attempts to enter me and my fight or flight insticts gear up full-force.

And yet I want him inside me. I want to have sex. And just as importantly, I want to kill this huge fear of losing my virginity and of intercourse in general.

I don't know how to fix my problem. All I know is even though he tells me, "As a guy I have the easier role, you know. All I have to do is put this thing inside of you. I know it's all a lot more difficult for you", I think he has the harder role. Because I get so afraid and so upset, and he is the one who has to keep it together and not let me dissuade him from trying.

Last night, he tried harder than I've ever seen him try.

And I was fighting him harder than perhaps I've ever fought before.

I'm not quite sure how the Bonnie-jo logic works with this, but it's something like the following: I'm so afraid of sex and perhaps even more so afraid of not being able to take the pain that comes with losing one's virginity. So I've convinced myself that something is wrong with me. It feels unnatural to me. So I must be different from everyone else. The only way I can possibly have sex is to let it be done to me. The only way I can "let it be done" is if I stop fighting and just receive it. And the only way I can stop fighting is if College Guy makes me stop. I can't stop on my own. Stopping on my own would be the same as not being afraid. The fear of this is very much a part of who I am. So I need for him to take it over, make me obey him. So that I can do what he wants and not what I want, which, in the moment  of trying to have sex, is to not have sex.

I hope that makes sense. I want sex. But in the moment of trying, I don't anymore. So I need him to take it, to make me do what he wants. If he doesn't, I"ll get what I want. But I won't ever really get what I actually want.
So fastforward to our attempts that night to finally have sex. College Guy is trying to get me to stay still. I'm squirming and wiggling and freaking out whenever he gets close to entering me. Soon, I'm outright just trying to get away. We've done this before. In the past, he's just said, "Okay, we'll try later." And given me a big smile. Usually I end up crying out of frustration and he ends up comforting me and telling me I'll get there some day. But not so last night. Last night, he got more conrolling and more angry the more I squirmed and wiggled and was difficult.

It was 3 am and we were both becoming more and more emotional and frustrated. I was sniffling and depressed and he was fed up.

Finally, he said. "I want you to at least give me a minimum effort here. You're not even trying the slightest bit to stay still. You're being a baby. Either try or let me do something else with my night."

"I can't help it!!!!" I shot back. Then, "I need to lose my personality, I need to be broken, then I could do it."
For 3-4 seconds we held each other's angry and frustrated gaze.

Then I suddenly find myself on my back, his shoulder somehow up against my raised legs. In seconds his finger (or fingers?) was inside of me, all the way inside. My reaction was a half scream/half moan, and then his other hand spread over my mouth. My hand was on his hand with the finger inside me instantly. I could feel his hand/arm shaking with the strain of trying to stay inside as I attempted to pull away.

"We are going to stay this way for a long time. You're going to wait until this feels more normal. Take your hand off my arm please." His voice is curt and matter-of fact.

I just breathe and slowly, slowly, I inch my hand off of his arm, I place both hands on the ground where we're lying. It's my best attempt at letting go all night.

"Now breathe, Bonnie-jo. Come on. In. " He takes a dramatic breath of air. "And now another one." I try to slow my breathing as I whimper against his hand. I can tell he's gone all the way inside. Something is stinging oddly and I'm trying to not think so that I won't completely freak.

I turn my head under his hand but he keeps his clasp on my mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be a jerk. I'm just covering your mouth for the neighbors."

"I know. It's okay. It's okay." I mumble into his hand.

He keeps encourgaging me to slow my breathing. I try. Then he jostles his finger and pulls back a tiny bit, then pushes forward. I twist my head away from his clasping hand. "Take it out! Take it out!" I sob. "Please."

"No." He keeps up the slight motion for a couple more seconds, then slides his finger out. I immediately curl up and dissolve into tears, but they are those short-spent kind. In seconds I'm smiling up at him and feeling sleepy.

"We've gotten farther than we've ever gotten before."

"Yup."

"I want you to know I'm fine with doing that. That's something we're going to need to do until you get used to it. And I don't mind. We won't be doing it every day, but I'm thinking once or twice a week."

I just groan....but inside, I'm hugely excited. Maybe, just maybe, we can win this battle together. Maybe.