Last Summer as a Virgin: 32 (Sexy Erotica) by Cathy Kong

Last Summer As A Virgin
    One initial statement of my story is that I’ve had enough encounters with boys my age, and none of them seemed to be...adequate, which explained why I’ve never given even the slightest thoughts on sex or boys before one particular night, the night when I was having dinner with my religious parents.
    It was that night I ran into a couple having sex in the bathroom stall of a Chinese restaurant and for the first time, I felt a strange tick in my stomach when I noticed a particular noise from a stall, suppressive yet provoking.
    Somehow I ceased my feet, walking as quiet as I could toward where the noise came from. I wanted to know what was going on behind that door. Apparently someone having sex in a public bathroom was not the first thing sprinted through my mind, I reckoned some old lady fell on the floor or some sort.
    ‘Hello?’ I asked, pressing my ear against the door. ‘Someone in there? Do you need help?’
    Then it came about three minutes of silence from the other side of the door, I knew someone was in there, and I was going to get help from the people of the restaurant.
    ‘No, we’re, I am quite alright.’ A girl’s voice came before I left the bathroom.
    ‘What’s the matter, do you need help, ma’am?’ I tried to be helpful.
    ‘No, thank you.’ She said, along with someone giggling from the back, someone either a girl with a really masculine voice, or a male.
    I stood still, it was then the idea of a couple having sex in a stall struck through me. I felt hot and dizzy. I didn’t know what had gotten into me, as I walked toward the door, I slammed it rather hard, as though I was trying to trick them into believing that they were alone again, then I tip-toed back to the stall next to them and sat on the toilet.
    ‘Do you think she’s gone?’ The girl whispered, making that weird noise again. I could hear so clearly I thought she must have pressed against my side of the thin plastic wall.
    ‘well, why didn’t you invite her to stay?’ The boy said with a laugh, also moaning.
    I held my breath as they were conversing in a turbulent tone, as though they were running in sweat. I could almost feel something biting me, something tiny with sharp teeth, biting wherever I had my hands on, I was desperate to scratch the itch I had in my stomach, but I was too scared to move.
    Then the movement became more turbulent. I could hear the boy slapping the girl, probably on the thighs, I couldn’t help running my hands on my lap, I felt ashamed yet unutterably exhilarated at the same time.
    The girl fizzled with a suppressive moan each time the boy slapped her.
    ‘Yes, spank me, Joey.’ The girl cried. ‘Ah...Joey.’
    The boy chuckled as he said, ‘Turn to the wall.’
    I imagined the girl having her breasts and her hands pressing against the wall, which was about less than an inch thick; and the boy, Joey vigorously penetrated into her when she let out that beastly moan. It was as if she moaned right into my ear, I cringed immediately. Then the stall wall started to shake in a rhythmic pattern, with both of them heavily breathing and groaning in suppression.
    I inadvertently let out a gasp and the movement once again became tranquil, I panicked as I hastily opened the door and galloped straight back to our table before anyone noticed anything.
    ‘Joey...’ I mouthed the name into the air, and shamefully reminiscing what I found when I got home.
    We arrived home at 10:30 PM, I went straight back to my room for a shower and found a water stain in my vanilla underpants.
    I remembered one time the girls in my dorm room discussing sexual experience when the lights were out, and one of them, my friend Lisa, claimed that she was always ready for sex because she was wet all the time. The girls laughed so hard and called her a sex addict because she’d had sex with more the 20 boys in our school. Lisa had somewhat been an acknowledged sexual icon in our grade, she was pretty and she