My Virginity is My Pride

My Virginity is My Pride

I imagine his lips as they caress mine. They feel warm and tender. I imagine his touch as light as air. His hands are free to explore every inch of my body. I imagine his taste. He tastes like beautiful vacation away from my mundane routine. I imagine his voice. He groans, carnally, and it sends me into a puddle of desire. I imagine, him.  Slightly smiling as he stares deep into my soul. He asks me if I’m ready. And all I can do is nod.

I imagine he walks me over to the bed, and everything becomes so real. He takes off his shirt . Then his pants. They land on the floor as there sound echoes throughout the room. He starts with my shirt and pulls it over my head. My breathing is loud and irregular. He looks at me. “You ok?” I nod, still unable to produce words. He undresses me completely and I feel as vulnerable as the day I came out of my mother’s womb.

I imagine our bodies moving in perfect rhythm. His weight keeps me grounded. We sing a pleasure that is only familiar to the both of us. I imagine our connection swelling deep inside, and we now know of secrets that have never been spoken out loud.

I imagine after. I imagine extreme pain, but where there’s pain there’s also extreme pleasure. We gaze into each other’s eyes and a small laugh escapes through my lips. We relax into each other’s arms, and let all of our feelings carry us away.

I also imagine him. He’s seems more nervous then me. I laugh and take his face. I whispher “it’s ok.” Those are the last words spoken for the night. We kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and kiss. I take off his shirt, and he takes off mine. I take off his pants, and he takes off mine. We go the bed and we kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss.

And it happens. It’s nothing at all like what I imagined. He was fast and insecure. But it was still perfect in everyway.

I also imagine him. He’s experienced and knows what he wants. He isn’t caring. He doesn’t ask what I need. He just takes what he wants for himself. And I feel empty.  I cry and ask myself how I could let someone take away something so important. I vow to never let that happen again. But I’m a liar.

But this is only what I imagine. I hold virginity in my arms. I protect her. I cherish her. I love her. She will only be given to someone who feels the same about her.

I dream of when imagination becomes reality. I’m yearn for the mistakes, the desire, the dependency, the want, and most importantly, the love.

But until then, I’ll hold virginity in my arms. Because she is is my pride.