Virgin Sex Fetish: Taking Their First Time

I still remember the exact second I knew I had a virgin sex fetish…

I was nineteen, half-drunk on cheap vodka in some friend’s basement, and this girl—Francesca—was sitting on the couch with her knees pressed together so hard her skirt rode up just enough to show the little bow on her white cotton panties. Everyone else was screaming over beer pong, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She kept biting her lip, looking around like she was scared someone would guess she’d never been fucked. That fear, that untouched tightness, hit me straight in the cock. I wanted to be the first one inside her so badly my hands shook.

I didn’t get her that night. Some older guy swooped in and she left with him, blushing like crazy. But the image burned itself into my brain: the idea of being the very first man to push past that thin barrier, to feel a girl clench around me in total shock because she’d never had anything thicker than her own finger stretching her open.

From that night on, that was all I chased.

People think virgins are boring. They’re so fucking wrong.

There’s nothing on earth hotter than watching a girl realize what a real cock feels like for the first time. The way their eyes go wide, the little panicked gasp when the head finally pops in, the way they grab your shoulders like they’re drowning and you’re the only thing keeping them alive. I live for that exact moment when innocence cracks open and raw, filthy need comes pouring out.

My first real conquest was Silvia. Eighteen, fresh out of some strict Catholic school. She messaged me on a dare from her friends—“prove you’re not a prude, talk to the guy with the reputation.” I invited her over to “watch Netflix.” She showed up in a sundress that made her look innocent as hell… until you noticed the way her nipples poked through the thin fabric the second she got nervous. Which was immediately.

We sat on my bed. She kept smoothing the dress over her thighs like it could grow longer if she prayed hard enough. I didn’t rush. I knew the longer I waited, the wetter she’d get from pure anxiety alone.

I put on some dumb movie, let my arm rest behind her, fingers brushing the bare skin of her shoulder. Goosebumps everywhere. After twenty minutes she was practically vibrating.

“You okay?” I asked, voice low.
She nodded too fast. “Yeah. Just… never done this before.”

“Done what?” I made her say it.
“Any of it,” she whispered. “Kissed, touched… nothing.”

My dick throbbed so hard I had to shift on the bed.

I turned her face to me and kissed those soft, closed lips until she melted and let my tongue inside. She tasted like peppermint gum and pure terror. When I slid my hand up her thigh she clamped her legs shut for a split second—then forced them open again like she was proving something to herself. Her panties were absolutely soaked. I rubbed her through the cotton and she made this broken little sound right into my mouth.

“Still sure?” I asked against her lips.
She nodded, eyes huge. “I want it to be you.”

I peeled that sundress off like I was unwrapping something holy. Plain white bra, matching panties. Tiny tits with pale pink nipples already rock-hard. I sucked one into my mouth and she arched so violently she nearly bucked me off the bed.

While I licked and bit, I eased a finger under the elastic of her panties. She was dripping. I slid one finger along her slit, just teasing the entrance, and she whimpered “please” like she didn’t even know what she was begging for.

I pushed the crotch of her panties aside and looked. Barely any hair, puffy pink lips glistening, and that perfect untouched hole so tiny I wasn’t sure my cock would even fit. I rubbed my leaking tip up and down her slit until she was shaking uncontrollably.

“Tell me what you are,” I ordered.
“I’m… I’m a virgin,” she choked out.
“Say the whole thing.”
“I’m a virgin and I want you to fuck me for the first time.”

Jesus fucking Christ. I almost came right there on her belly.

I rolled on a condom (only because I wasn’t stupid), lined up, and pressed in slow. The resistance was insane. She was biting her fist, eyes squeezed shut, little tears gathering at the corners. I kissed them away and pushed harder. There it was—that perfect little pop—and suddenly I was buried in the tightest, hottest heaven I’d ever felt.

She cried out, half pain, half relief. Her nails carved into my back.

“Move,” she gasped. “Please move.”

I started slow, letting her adjust, watching her face transform from shock to wonder to pure greedy lust. Within a minute she was rocking up to meet every thrust, begging in this broken voice, “Harder, please, it feels so good now.”

I lost it. I fucked her like an animal—bed slamming the wall, her freshly broken-in pussy squelching obscenely around me with every deep stroke. When she came her whole body seized, mouth open in a silent scream, and I followed right after, groaning into her neck like a dying man.

Afterwards she curled into me, sticky and trembling, and whispered, “I can’t believe I waited eighteen years for that.”
I laughed and told her she hadn’t waited—she’d saved the best part for me.

That was only the beginning.

There was Farah, the shy bookworm who wore ankle socks and read romance novels like textbooks. I took her in the library stacks after closing. She was so scared of getting caught she came just from my fingers while biting my shoulder to stay quiet, then dropped to her knees and sucked me like she’d been starving for cock her entire life. When I bent her over the return cart and pushed into her virgin cunt from behind, she shoved back so hard the cart crashed and books rained everywhere. We didn’t stop.

Then Kayla—cheerleader, homecoming court, daddy’s perfect little princess—who told me she wanted her first time “dirty.” I tied her wrists to my headboard with her own ponytail holders, blindfolded her with her cheer panties, and spent an hour eating her pussy until she was literally sobbing for my cock. When I finally gave it to her she screamed so loud I had to gag her with those soaked panties. She came three times before I let myself finish, and when I pulled out there was that perfect crimson streak on the condom. Proof. I kept it in my drawer like a trophy for weeks.

I’ve tasted every flavor of virgin there is. The nervous gigglers who need you to hold their hand. The quiet ones who shock you when they suddenly turn into filthy little sluts once they’re stuffed full. The ones who cry because it feels so good they can’t process it. The ones who bleed, the ones who don’t. The ones who whisper “I love you” after five minutes because their brains are melted from finally being fucked properly.

My favorite was probably Ellie. Twenty-one and still a virgin because she was waiting for “the one.” She picked me anyway. We talked for weeks, built trust. When she finally came over she was shaking so hard I wrapped her in a blanket and just held her for an hour. Then she looked up with those big hazel eyes and said, “I’m ready. Make it everything I’ve ever dreamed about.”

I kissed every inch of her body until she was begging. Ate her pussy until she came twice, screaming my name into the pillow. When I finally slid inside her—bare, because she was on the pill and wanted to feel everything—she wrapped her legs around me and cried happy tears the entire time. We fucked slow and deep, eyes locked, until she was clawing my back and sobbing “I’m yours, I’m yours.” I came so hard I saw stars, pumping her full while her brand-new pussy milked every last drop.

Afterwards she fell asleep on my chest. I lay there stroking her hair thinking: yeah, this is the drug. Knowing I’m the only man who’s ever been inside her. The only one who’s felt her clench and flutter and gush around a real cock. The only name she’ll ever moan when she remembers her first time.

Some people collect stamps.
I collect virginities.

Every single one is different, sacred in its own filthy way.

And I’m nowhere near done.

There are still so many trembling, untouched girls out there who don’t know yet how good it feels to finally spread their legs for the first cock of their lives. I’ll find them. I’ll ruin them in the sweetest, dirtiest way possible.

Because nothing—nothing—will ever beat that moment when a girl looks up at me with wide, shocked eyes and realizes she’s not a virgin anymore… and that she never, ever wants to be again.

My virgin sex fetish owns me… and I fucking love it.