The Loss of One's Cherry: A Virgin Perspective I lost my cherry today.
In the middle of Oak Park Avenue, at half past noon, I lost my cherry forever.
And I must admit my anticipation of that moment gave me far greater pleasure than the actual experience.
Permit me to explain: I definitely am talking about my cherry, the only one I had.
Relatively speaking, I didn't even have it very long.
I knew it wouldn't be with me forever,
But I expected it to depart under more enjoyable conditions than in front of dozens
of not even mildly concerned suburbanites; in the middle of a busy suburban avenue;
at a little after high noon; with traffic whizzing past in both directions.
I lost my cherry today, and oh what a disappointment!
What should have been a once in a lifetime experience,
turned out to be as disheartening an event as anyone could imagine: and I didn't even get kissed.
I lost my cherry today.
I felt like crying but I didn't.
Not because men aren't supposed to cry;
not because I had lost my cherry under less than romantic conditions;
not because I'd look more pathetic than I already did,
nor because deep down inside I was really angry and wanted to say unsavory things,
but because crying is simply not cool.
I might have lost my cherry,
But I was still cool.
I raged inwardly as I thought about the sexy young lady responsible
for this public display of shameful, lascivious hedonism.
She made me lose my cherry and I hadn't even noticed her at first.
Ours was one of those soap opera meetings;
planned but totally unexpected.
Planned, because I knew I'd slip away from my usual haunts
and cast my normal schedule to the winds for a change,
but I didn't know I'd meet her –
full bodied woman
The type many of my favorite erotic fantasies feature in starring roles.
This one cost me my cherry.
And when we met, my mind, honestly, was on the restaurant menu.
I had planned to treat myself to a quiet (and sneaky) diet buster;
Wander around in the fresh crisp air for a while;
Do a little window shopping at any gadget stores I encountered
And then return to my own sadly conventional routine.
Rut, I think it's called.
My mind was on the menu but my eyes were on her.
In a moment, without warning, my mind caught on to what my eyes beheld and I thought:
"Good Lord, I could get off the planet with a woman like that."
She had a body like that exciting Nubian delight who leads the Solid Gold Dancers;
The one with the long Black wavy hair that reaches down to her buns.
"Stacked", as they say, is an understatement.
I placed my order and then struck up a conversation.
One word led to another and I soon found myself agreeing, hotly, to the moment of madness she suggested.
I was putty in her hands and she eagerly fanned the fires of anticipation that were already raging inside me.
My prize and I soon left the restaurant in a hurry and made a mad dash for the train station just up the street.
We were leaving town; escaping; together. I was virtually drooling,
so hot by then I could barely contain myself.
My sweetie had long since begun to soften in the warm glow of my intense admiration.
I lost my cherry today;
right in the middle of Oak Park avenue.
Caught there by a rapidly changing traffic light,
I just couldn't wait any longer.
While waiting for the light to change,
I looked at that irresistible vision of loveliness and leaned forward;
lips parting; quivering; in anticipation of our first embrace.
And then it happened.
I lost my cherry today,
and I didn't even get a consolation kiss from that tall, sensuous tenderoni,
who works behind a certain ice cream counter and moonlights,
quite unconsciously, in some of my wildest erotic fantasies.
There was nothing I could do as the bright red cherry she gave me,
rolled off the peak of the chocolate coated peanut studded mountain of whipped cream,
Floating in my fresh strawberry and banana with vanilla ice cream milk shake,
and out into the noonday Oak Park avenue traffic.
I lost my cherry today: and didn't even get kissed.