Christine, My Great Youth Love

Foreword:

I'm an old Frenchman who doesn't have much time left to live because of several serious health problems. In particular, I've had no sexual ability for eight years. It doesn't bother my wife, as she stopped having any sexual desire since a long time ago. All I can do now is remember my youth loves and relive them in my mind, which brings back some good memories of a distant past.

My first love was a long time ago. It was with my cousin by marriage. Our brief romance ended badly: because of family feuds, they forced us to break up, and we never saw each other again.

Shortly afterwards, I fell into a deep depression and had great difficulty getting over it. But in the end, life was stronger, and I pulled through, thanks to my fierce determination to succeed in my high school studies, and also very much thanks to a kind classmate who became my girlfriend. She gave herself to me three days after her 18th birthday, providing me with a lot of support and love. She helped me recover from what was a serious shock, followed by a sort of mental illness.

I was living in the south of France, where my father was stationmaster in a medium-sized city of the lower Rhône valley, on the main railway line between Lyon and Marseilles. Our family lived in the railway station, which was located just outside the town center.

I'm now gonna tell you the story of what I experienced with her. This being an ancient story, I'm only telling what I remember clearly, knowing full well I forgot a lot of details. Fortunately, I still have an excellent episodic memory despite my age. I added nothing to embellish my story, just sticking to facts I remember for sure. I changed some names, changing nothing in the content or unfolding of the story itself.

This is a true story of teenage love and novice sex. It started slowly, with lots of love and little sex, but advanced flirting. Sex arrived gradually and triumphed when I made love to my girlfriend for the first time and took her virginity (see chapters 4, 5 and following, to come later). It was on the eve of her 18th birthday party and three days after her actual birthday. She told me it was the most beautiful birthday present she could have expected.

And our relationship kept on afterwards with lots of sex, unfortunately not as often as we would have liked since we were both living with our parents.

There's little dialogue in my story, because I can't remember what we said to each other. I reconstructed the dialogues I included from my memories; they are to be approximate while remaining fully in the original state of mind.

I'd like to point out that English is not my native language (which is French) and I'm therefore not perfectly fluent in it. Without realizing it, I may unknowingly use ill-adapted words or incorrect turns of phrase, despite my long practice of this language during my professional career, my many stays in the USA and business or personal trips all around the world. I apologize to the reader about that.

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Chapter 1:

I brilliantly completed my junior high school education in June of that year, despite my still very unstable psychological state, and successfully passed my BEPC (junior high school diploma exam in France), a very good result for which my parents offered me an adult-sized bicycle as a reward, replacing my child-sized bike which had become too small for me.

I started senior high school the following September, which was a big change for me. I was changing schools in the city, further away from the railway station where I lived, so my new bike would come in handy for getting there.

I was in a class in which girls outnumbered boys almost two to one. I quickly established myself as the best student in scientific matters, and among the good ones in literary matters. I showed no interest in the girls in the class because my psychological state didn't make me want to do so. Also, I soon integrated the school's rugby team as I was good at sports and already learned how to play rugby in junior high school.

A few days before the end of the first senior high school year, three girls in my class (Brigitte, Francine and Josette) came to tell me I should have paid more attention to a classmate named Christine who had a very strong crush on me, which I hadn't realized. They told me she was deeply in love with me, always telling them she would like to become my girlfriend.

She was indeed cute, a good and rather reserved student who looked serious and hard-working, but as I spent a very intense year studying, with no interest in anything other than schoolwork because of my still depressed state, I didn't notice her.

The last day of the school year was the day of goodbyes, accompanied by the traditional kisses between boys and girls, and promises to meet up again at the start of the new school year. Christine hugged me lovingly and kissed me on both cheeks, longer than any of her classmates had hugged and kissed me.

After returning her kisses, I asked her what she was gonna do during the summer vacations, hoping to see her again in July. She replied she was gonna spend the full summer with her maternal grandparents in Cannes (her birthplace) on the French Riviera where they lived, with her mother and two sisters, and her father would join them at the beginning of August when he went on vacation.

When I told her I was also going to Cannes for the whole month of August, she smiled happily and replied that maybe we could meet on the beach. She was very disappointed when I told her I was going to a French Railways summer camp with my younger brother, in boys' only camp, so it seemed unlikely that we would be able to.

The vacations went well and, not surprisingly, I didn't meet Christine in Cannes. I thought about her very often, wondering whether we could have a future together, and whether I really wanted to. After careful consideration, I decided, given her attitude towards me, especially on the last day of the previous school year, she indeed seemed to want it.

So it would be worth a try. As she was pretty, intelligent, a good student and was the same age as me, I was bound to like her and so she could become my girlfriend if all went well.

When I arrived at the senior high school entrance on the first day of the new school year mid-September, I saw Christine waiting for me nearby. When she saw me come on my bike, she quickly and enthusiastically went to meet me, kissing me affectionately on both cheeks and telling me how happy she was to see me, and she hoped we'd both be in the same class again.

Then we entered the school premises together. After they called the students' names by grade level, we realized we would indeed be together again for the entire year.

Our class included 36 students. They designed all desks to accommodate two students each. Christine sat in the front row with her friend Brigitte, and I sat right behind her with my buddy Robert, as school regulations at the time forbade a girl and a boy to sit at the same desk.

We kept the same arrangement every time we were in that room. In fact, there were only changes in hands-on exercises, where the classes were divided in two and where there was equipment for experiments. Similarly, in the canteen at lunchtime, girls and boys sat at different tables.

However, students could gather and talk in the playground, but any behavior which might seem ambiguous was forbidden and could cause punishment, and even expulsion from the school. Several supervisors were on duty at all times to ensure that students behaved appropriately.

The school year got off to a good start, and I already knew most of the teachers, except for the two most important ones for me, math and physics-chemistry. On the second day, we got to know them, two nice-looking women.

The math teacher was a young newcomer. The physics and chemistry teacher already had many years of experience and a reputation for being an excellent teacher. But as she was pregnant, it was sure that she wouldn't finish the school year with us, as she would be on maternity leave shortly.

Nothing really interesting and worth mentioning happened between Christine and me over the following weeks. But we got to know each other better and grew to appreciate each other more. I really liked her kindness and the attention she gave me. She was truly kind to me and took care of me.

She even had a somewhat protective attitude towards me, a bit like an older sister with her little brother. Maybe it was because girls are always psychologically more mature than boys at the same age, or maybe she realized quickly I had a psychological problem even though I hadn't told her, or for other reasons I didn't understand. Or maybe she was just really very much in love with me.

A few words about her physical appearance, which was very pleasant to look at. She was rather petite, about 1.55 m or 5'1" (I was taller than her by about 20 cm, or 8"). She probably weighed a maximum 50 kg (110 lb) and had a lovely, perky pair of breasts looking like a 90 C (34 C in the USA). The general shape of her body was reminiscent of an hourglass or a cello, with its slim, well-defined waist, flat belly, wide hips, full buttocks and slender, athletically muscled legs.

She wasn't a beauty queen nor a model, but she was a pretty, attractive girl, with a fine, tanned face, long light-brown hair she wore braided, pretty blue-green, almost turquoise eyes and a luscious mouth which made me want to kiss her. She really seemed to have everything it took to please me, and certainly much more, which I would no doubt soon be able to explore and discover in details soon.

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Chapter 2:

At the beginning of November, Christine suggested me we go to the cinema together on Sunday afternoon, November 6. She wished we see Federico Fellini's film "La Dolce Vita," the year "Palme d'or" winner at the Cannes International Film Festival, which was programmed in our town.

The film starred Marcello Mastroianni, a very famous Italian actor, and the blonde Swedish sex bomb Anita Ekberg, an actress with a nice face and a very shapely body who had a meteoric career. It caused quite a stir when it came out and was shrouded in an aura of transgression and scandal, adding to its appeal.

And it was on that day our relationship totally changed and took a great leap forward. In the early afternoon, we met up in front of the cinema in the town center, where we made our appointment. She came on the city bus that went past her house and then on to the railway station.

She wore an elegant light-colored jacket, a classic white blouse with small flowers and a light-gray straight skirt, red woolen pantyhose (the big fashion of the time) and medium-heeled shoes. Lightly made-up and discreetly perfumed, she was gorgeous in the chic style of a well-bred young lady. I must admit, I didn't put as much effort into my appearance and clothes as she did, but I looked just fine.

After a few kisses on the cheeks, we went inside and sat in the last row at the back of the room, towards the middle of the row, Christine sitting on my left. In those days, an afternoon cinema screening in the French provinces had a perfectly codified schedule: a documentary lasting around three quarters of an hour, followed by a quarter-hour newsreel, then an intermission lasting about half an hour. Then came the film, which lasted almost three hours that day.

It was the first time I'd been going to the cinema alone with a girl. It was a new experience for me. But I'd heard several of my buddies talk about what they did at the cinema with their girlfriends, and hence I had a good idea of what I should do with Christine.

We settled comfortably into our seats and had to endure short commercials for about ten minutes before the lights went down and the session began. Shortly afterwards, Christine moved closer to me and I put my left arm on her neck and shoulders. She leaned her head on my left shoulder in response. We stayed close together for a while, both enjoying our pleasurable position.

Then, after a good quarter of an hour, I brought my left hand down over her to rest it delicately on her left breast and take it gently in my hand. Feeling this, she pressed my hand against her boob with her left hand to make sure I got a good grip on it, and to show me she approved what I was doing to her. Then she put her right hand on my left knee.

I stroked her left tit for a long moment over her clothes, appreciating its volume and firmness and the fast hardening of her nipple. The sensation was fantastic. It was the first time since the beginning of my depression I touched the magnificent body of a fully developed teenager in all its splendor.

I moved my head closer to hers, seeking contact with her lips, contact quickly made as she moved her mouth closer to mine. Our lips parted, my tongue entered her mouth and her tongue into mine, playing with each other at length in a passionate French kiss. Until now, we'd kissed several times, only on the cheeks, but this was something else entirely. I felt like an electric current running through my body and I got quickly hard. And I could feel Christine was enjoying what we were doing as well, sensing the passion she was putting into responding to my kisses.

In the position we were in, we could see nothing of the documentary, which we didn't miss. And now I could put my right hand on her right breast and stroke it, holding one boob in each hand, each as pleasant to hold and caress as the other.

A moment later, I undid several buttons of her blouse so I could get my left hand underneath, closer to her left boob. I found contact with her bra and stroked her nipple over the lace of her underwear. It was now really hard.

Shortly after, she whispered in my ear, "If you want, you can put your hand in my bra and take my tit directly in your hand."

I did it immediately and fondled her nipple right against her skin, which made it harden even more. For me, it was like the beginning of a return to life after a difficult period: I was directly touching a full, soft, firm girl's boob which was throbbing in my hand and under my fingers, and she seemed to enjoy it a lot. It was a kind of illumination: I understood that thanks to Christine, I was now on the road to returning to a normal life and my depression would soon be nothing more than a bad memory.

Simultaneously, I continued to press her right breast over her clothes with my right hand. Her right nipple was also well erect. She seemed to enjoy very much what I did as she emitted little moans of pleasure and her breath had become shorter and panting. To prevent the neighbors from hearing her, I stuck my mouth over hers to gag her successfully. Fortunately, there was only one other couple, quite a distance away from us in the back row, who seemed to be busy in the same way as we were. And the people in the rows before us apparently didn't see or hear anything.

Then I let go of her right breast and slid my right hand up her skirt to access her crotch. She parted her legs to give me an easier access. I stroke her between her open thighs for a while, then I slid my hand inside her pantyhose and then into her panties, and reached her pussy. It was now quite wet. I noticed her mound was covered with wild curly hair, because in those days it wasn't fashionable to shave nor wax as it is today, and girls remained natural.

Afterwards, I touched her soaked slit, and I parted her labia majora, swollen by arousal. They were slightly hairy, less thick than on her mound. Then I opened her hairless labia minora and stroked her up and down in between several times. At a moment, I barely touched her clit with the tip of my middle finger, and she immediately reacted as if she'd received an electric shock. She whispered in my ear, "Don't do that here. It turns me on too much and we'll get noticed."

I stopped what I was doing and gently slid my middle finger inside her, and she let me. It went in fairly easily at first, since the entrance to her vagina was soaking wet. But I quickly ran into a barrier that prevented me from going any further without difficulty, most likely her hymen.

I whispered to her, "Are you a virgin?"

She answered softly, "Yes, I'm, and I want you to take my virginity. It's for you only. You can take it whenever you want." That was an unexpected and wonderful answer, full of promises for the future.

I continued to stroke the soaked entrance to her love tunnel, occasionally touching her hymen. But I didn't push my finger further inside her so as not to arouse her too much, nor risk hurting her.

In a very low voice, I asked her, "Has a boy ever fondled you the way I'm doing it?"

"No, you're the first to fondle me between my legs, and I like it a lot."

"And have you ever stroked your sex?"

"Yes, often, I liked it well, but it made little effect on me. It aroused me a little. I had some pleasure, but I think I never had a true orgasm so far. Maybe I wasn't doing it right."

Her right hand was still on my left knee. She gently moved it up towards my crotch.

She whispered in my ear, "May I touch you the same way you touch me?"

I replied, "Of course, as much as you want."

She touched my erect cock from the outside, over my clothes, stroked it for a while with her hand, which made me harden more. I whispered in her ear, "If you want, you may slide your hand in my briefs. You'll feel me better."

With some clumsiness which showed she lacked practice, she pulled down the fly of my pants and then searched for the elastic of my briefs. She slid her hand in it, took my dick in her hand, and stroked it. Then, in a very low voice, she said, "It's big and hard, and it's very soft at the same time. I love fondling you, but I can't take it all in my hand, it's too big. Do you like it when I stroke you?"

"Yes, I really like it. Your hand is very soft, and it's very pleasant. Have you ever touched a boy the way you do me?"

"No, never. You're the first one I've ever touched and stroked. And I've never seen a boy's sex close, except some naked babies on the beach."

Her answers to my questions seemed sincere, but I found it hard to take her word for it. She seemed playing innocent, but I doubted she was as inexperienced with sex as she wanted to pretend as an 18-year-old virgin. I just acted as if I really believed what she was telling me, not wanting to risk spoiling my opportunities for the future if I showed her I had some doubts.

She fondled me for a few minutes, keeping my erection very hard. But it couldn't have lasted much longer. The newsreel was ending; the intermission was about to start and the cinema lights were about to come back on. We were back to normal in less than 30 seconds. Everything was in order when the lights were on, except for my boner in my pants. But someone looking carefully could have seen it, which was highly unlikely.

At the break, I bought an ice cream for each one of us and we left the hall for the river quay, about 200 meters away. It was a pleasant temperature, cool but not cold (we were in the south of France, close to the Mediterranean sea). I put my left arm over her shoulders and held her close. We walked slowly, eating our ice cream, so as not to stray too far from the cinema.

Then she resumed our conversation.

"When you stroked my boobs, especially the left one which you touched directly on my skin, it gave me extraordinary feelings, the likes of which I'd never experienced before. You aroused me a lot, and it was very pleasant."

"I'm thrilled to hear you say that. I want to do good things to you and I'll do whatever you want, for as long as you want."