Curiosity Killed the Virgin

Reads: 558  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 4

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
This short story was not made to be a “turn on”. It is meant to teach a lesson and remind us girls what is really important. No, this did not happen to me (thank God), but it could just as easily happen to me as it could to any other girl in the world. Most all of us have been in a position like this where we have to make a choice, in reality or in our own day dreams that run through our minds during a boring class. I very much hope that you will read this, learn, and remember what our only real precious treasure is.

I understand how easy it is to fall in love. I, myself, have already fallen in love twice in my short life. Though, no matter how much you love someone, it does not mean that they are worth giving up your “V-card”. The only person that is worthy of that gift is your husband. And if the man truly loves you, the best thing he can do to prove the worth of his love is by waiting. We are all victims of the evil that is named Passion, but we must remain strong. As you read this story about the death of something dear, I pray that you would think of the girl as you, the man as the one you love, and who would be the Angel in your life that carries you back home… With love, Holly.

Submitted: December 20, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 20, 2011



His lips grazed mine in the sweetest way. I closed my eyes, feeling him crease the edge of my jaw with the very tip of his tongue. Longing flowed into me, coming from a freshly ignited fire that burned beneath my skin. His gentle kisses set shock waves through my crust. I love you, he breathed into my ear. Those were the words I live on: he loves me. My heart thumps harder by the sound of that beautiful melody. He loves me.

I love you too, I tried to say. Though, once his lips passed over mine for the second time, all words were lost. Feeling the ticklish chill of excitement electrify my body, I kissed him back with eagerness. Where my hands rested on his chest, I allowed my fingers to trail upwards to cape around his heated neck. My feet inched me closer as the kiss grew more passionate. He nibbled gingerly on my bottom lip, begging me to release the castle gate. Without hesitation, without thought of consequences, I did. I permitted his tongue’s entrance just as his arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer yet. His tongue did strange things inside my mouth, strange things which felt so much better than I had ever believed they would. My tongue played with his just as old lovers would, twirling and hugging and laughing in each other’s bliss. As his fingertips edged up the rim of my shirt to allow cold air its admission, pebbles of nervousness and chill raised below my pale skin.

This is where I should have stopped him. This is where I should have said Nah. These roads are not roads meant to wonder by unmarried folk. This highway was not built for unlicensed high-school-lovers. This is where I should have questioned him; I should have asked him where his parents and little sister were on this late of an hour. I should have wondered why the small house was so quiet and peaceful, why no sounds of a television or privet conversation behind the other wall broke this romantic setting. I should have pondered the annoying cat begging for food as she trailed around and around our feet. And yet, I did not.

Nah, instead my body begged me to remain hushed as the man’s finger tips trailed the bumpiness of my spine beneath my shirt. Just as the house was, my mind was silent—dismissing the persistent meows of a curious cat as she pawed at the surface of my heart. I heard no objections, no voice at the back of my mind urging me to halt. There were no sounding bells or fire alarms as a fabric snapped un-shut against my back and relief was given to my chest. Now, this is where I began to wonder. Though, as a kitten yet to be let outside does not think of the dangers but of the excitement hidden past the see-through glass, I did not question what I should’ve. In logic’s place, I wanted to know what it felt like for a man to touch me, a real man to crease my breast and kiss my sinful shell.

And that’s just what I got.

My shirt was raised higher and higher as my heart beat faster and faster. The rim and all the rest bunched up beneath my chin. His lax mouth and tongue left mine just long enough to lift the fabric above my head and off my arms and shoulders. My skin was no longer human, but replaced with bumpy goose flesh. Yet, he gave me no time to blush or smile fretfully. Instead of engulfing my mouth in love and warmth like before, he moved to my cheek, my ear, my neck, my shoulder… I was overwhelmed. I felt my virgin body being attacked from all sides as his hands slipped passed the blue-jean-barrier around my waist. Any alarm of unsure-ness was quickly muffled by the warm, wet kisses he placed on my skin. The cat roaming beneath our feet no longer meowed, but purred in delight.

My body was vibrating, shaky yet thrilled. With every kiss left on my body, this surprise attack began to feel more and more like a linen basket of lovely yellow lily peddles. How could I not have seen? How could I not have seen the trespasses, the change of mind, the change of situation, as I tugged urgently at the rim of his undershirt? I cry for my stupidity! I scorn my childish mind as it did not catch what this gesture truly meant.

In reply to my gesticulation of removal, his hands retracted themselves from Pandora’s Box and eliminated the cottony fabric from between us. I’d like to tell you that I did not like this. I’d like to tell you that my heart filled with shame and not bliss as his venomous lips covered mine. And I’d like to report to you that I did not laugh or smile when his arms boosted me upward and carried me away. Though, I’d be lying if I edited the story and told you this. And since I am already confessing one sin to you, I’d best not make it two…

Before I knew what was happening, his strong arms released me and threw me atop a bouncing surface. Not a second passed before there was a fiery body atop mine. Not a breath blew before those wonderfully horrible hands roamed my skin again. I had gone too far; there was no sign of turning back, no sign of a screeching standstill. And when he fingered a circular piece of medal that marked the line between yes and no, I knew that my breaks would fail me if I stomped on them now…

I gave in.

Morning After

I awoke to the sounds of periodic hammering. I moaned in unwillingness, wishing for the sun to go away and the world to end. After a long tug-a-war of reluctance, I heaved up one eye lid to peer through and make sure hell had not engulfed me. My bare legs pressed themselves together beneath the not so soft sheets. With mournful slowness, I gripped the navy blue covers to my chest and lifted my achy head so that it relied on my raw neck to support it. Surveying the room, I avoided looking at the naked body beside me, just barely covered by sheets.

The taste of disgust was profound on my tongue. I hated him. I hated him with the deepness that a killer would have toward its victims. I despised him and wondered how such a horrible person could be sleeping so peacefully, so happily. After what he did to me…he must feel proud of himself, accomplished even. How could a person take such innocence and turn it into something so ugly for his own delight? I couldn’t be near him. I had half a mind to strangle him with a pillow right there, yet I knew the police would not see this the way I do. More strongly than the opposite sides of two magnets, I felt something pulling me away from the horrible man.

Getting out of the tousled bed, my eyes remained on the ground as I searched for my garments. I was rather surprised that my body willingly worked for me, sides the way I had allowed it to be so defiled last night. No, I shook my head in disinclination: I had not allowed that. The hollowness in my legs made me wobble as I found my dishonored pink underwear and un-neatly piled jeans. I ignored the need for a bathroom as I shoved my sticky, sweaty legs through the holes of my wrinkled clothing. Would using the bathroom be painful? I did not want to know. I was all too aware of myself and the sinful things that accrued last night as I stumbled around the square bed for my top and bra. Where were they?

Slapping my forehead, thoughts of how my trespasses had begun arose from my memories. No, again I shook my head: Not my trespasses. I did not do what was done last night by my own freewill. The sleeping body moved in the bed, stretching and repositioning. Quickly, I raced out of the room so not to take part in awkward conversations if he should awake. I ran out into the hall, eyes averted from any reflecting surface and all windows. I was not ready to see my violated body, nor was I prepared to see the judgment laid upon me by the on-looking world. Hurrying across the house in footsteps of a mouse, I found my shirt and laced bra sprawled out on the floor of the small living room. Just as I slipped my arms through the straps, I paused when my eyes caught sight of something: an oval shaped blue and purple mark with rims of red and dark spotted places. It was small, but placed where it should not be. A hiki, the mark of a slut, was imprinted on my skin as a tattoo that told the story of what I had allowed to happen last night.

Tears welled in my eyes. What I had allowed to happen… Yes, I had allowed it. I should have seen—I stopped myself. Shoving away the tears instead of allowing them to spill, I repositioned my bra and attacked hooks in the back. Needing to get out of this house, the setting of my giving into sin, I threw my shirt on with a sort of eagerness that was not there before.

“Hey,” A groggy voice said from behind me. I did not turn around. I did not say anything. Realization was given to the man standing behind me as he slowly asked, “Uh, where are you going?”

“Home,” I replied immediately. My voice was more broken up than I had expected.

“Why? Can’t you stay? Our parents won’t be home for another day,” He reminded me. Hands began to wrap themselves around my waist.

No. Not again. Grabbing them by the fingers, I unwtangled myself and stepped away. “No,” I voiced, “Mom called. ‘Gonna be home soon.”

It was a lie… Yes, it was a lie. Though, why not lie now? I had just committed the biggest sin aside from killing someone that can ever be committed.

“Oh,” He whispered unhappily, “Are you okay though? You seem different.”

No. No, I am nowhere near okay. “Yeah,” Again, another lie ran past my teeth with ease, “Just a new day.”

My feet took me towards the front door. The man walked behind me. “Okay. Just let me get dressed and I’ll take you home.” Despite my refusal to look at him, I knew he was closing in to leave a kiss atop my head.

“No need,” I said quickly, as my hands flipped the lock, flung the wooden door open, and instantly slammed it back into place behind me. Before the man could reopen the door to shadow me, I found myself running.

Truthfully, I was running away and not just from him, but from everything. I ran from my memories, my guiltiness, and my sinful nature. Wind whipped in my ear, footsteps pounding beneath me. Coming to the corner of the neighborhood I was running through, my legs suddenly refused to aid me. I stopped running and collapsed on the very edge of a neatly clipped front yard. My legs came to my chest, my forehead to my knees, and my hands clung to my ankles. I sobbed. My skin wanted to crawl off of me. I wanted to hide from the on looking sun and the golden cross necklace that wrapped around my neck with an added ten pounds... Those were the heavies ten pounds I had ever felt.

My clothing suddenly felt baggy on my body, as though I were not meant to be covered after what I had allowed to happen. I shouldn’t be covered, should I? No, I do not deserve to have my sins hidden. I should be judged. My tears and wails became even louder, stronger. I found it impossible to keep my mouth shut as uncontrollable yowls erupted out of me.

“Lord,” I whispered, though in my ears it sounded like a scream for help. More tears came. “Lord! I’m sorry!

“Please forgive me!” I wished for a gun, a knife, anything. Anything that would punish me for my even asking; how could He forgive me? Yet, it was all I could say. Again and again I begged for His love to return to me. It was an uncontrollable chant: “Please forgive me. Forgive me, Lord, please. God, forgive me. Please, please, please forgive me. I am so sorry, Father…”

I could not stop. Sobs and begging fought their way through the gaping, crying hole that was my mouth.

“Hey,” A stranger’s voice whispered. My begging stopped, my loud crying came to a slowed down whisper. “Hey, are you okay?”

I craned my neck up, rising my head from the uncomfortable hardness of my knees. A truck had rolled up to stop on the road in front of me. Through the welling tears that swamped my eyes, I saw a worried face of a teenage girl. From the look of her hair, she was fashioned in a punk style. Heavy makeup was around her eyes, a black choker around her neck with a large golden cross hanging from it. She was not gothic, but clearly head strong. A villainous thought whispered its evil words in my ear: Surely she would not have given in as easily as you did last night…

Tears water-falled out of my eye sockets, as I knew the truth of the horrid statement. I shook my head slowly from side to side, my voice was washed out from all of the crying. No, I was not okay.

For a long while, the girl simply observed me from her post in the tall, old truck. After a pondering expression crossed over her face, she spoke some words which I could hardly decipher passed the pounding in my ears. My sobbing quieted.

“What?” I asked in disbelief; I must have heard her wrong.

“Get—in,” She restated slowly as though I had a mental disability. I almost refused. This girl could be a killer, a kidnapper, or a crazy drug addict. Why would I want get in that truck with her?

Because I have nothing to lose; truthfully, a girl’s virginity is the only thing that is truly hers. It’s her dignity and her own self-respect. A girl is nothing without her self-respect. After that is taken away, she and her body become enemies. It is a delicate thing that should be cherished until marriage, which I did not do.

With the final thought of what-the-heck, I stood and hurried around the front of the truck. The stranger reached over the bench seat and pulled a button up to unlock the passenger door for me. I got in, buckling.

“My name’s Angel.”

“Pleasure,” I replied, telling her my own name.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” She answered politely before moving the truck forward and onto a main street,

“Where are you taking me?” I finally asked in a judgment-less voice after we had driven in silence for a long while.

“Home,” Angel responded, refusing to say anything else. I was puzzled. How could she know where I lived? Was she some crazy stalker or something? I was a little worried. Okay, no; I was a lot worried. How could I be so stupid? First, I give away the most precious thing there is to a girl, and the very morning after, I get into a car with a maniac!

I regretted my thoughts. The cogs in my mind froze as we came to our destination:

Angel had remained true to her word. She truly did take me home: she took me back to church.


“13No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to humanity. God is faithful, and he will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation He will also provide a way of escape so that you are able to bear it.”(1 Corinthians 10:13 HCSB)

© Copyright 2018 writerlover. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:






More Religion and Spirituality Short Stories