How did Charlotte Lose Her Virginity? Pt. 01

Now, how was it? Ah, yes, I remember.

Charlotte giggled with her friend, Helen, “I wonder what it’s really like – in the flesh.”

The strictest of convent upbringings had not presented the girls with much opportunity to admire the male nude or the sexual attributes of the male of the species. Certainly, they had done biology for ‘O’ Levels and drawn cross sections of male and female genitalia. They knew what the ‘bits’ did but had little concept of what the male ‘bits’ really looked like or, indeed, their size. Most certainly there were no pictures of naked men or genitalia generally in their biology book; no helpful pictorial guide to intercourse. One of the few opportunities was with photographs of classical statuary (or even the two statues in the grounds of the convent school which were much admired) or particularly the photograph of Michelangelo’s David. This most perfect of statues interested the girls not least because of the carefully carved penis. Its small size did not surprise, it was commensurate with the pictures of classical statuary, and was accepted by Charlotte and the girls as the norm.

Alone in her bed at night, Charlotte imagined what the penis was like erect as it had to be for ‘sexual intercourse.’ She knew that. Despite reaching eighteen years she had never so much as had a glimpse of that fabled male organ, not even seen a representation in its aroused state. There had most definitely been no photographs or drawings of that in the School Library. ‘The Joy of Sex’ was not filed under ‘J’ – or, of course, filed at all! She imagined the penis rather like her index finger only rigid or ‘stiff’ (a word she had heard other girls use) and naturally she imagined it like that as she played with herself. Just because she was a Convent girl did not mean she did not have desires, fantasies, or orgasms. Her finger pushed in and out just like the imagined stiff penis.

The appearance of a male teacher was an event. Certainly, the man was only temporary. whilst Sister Clara was in hospital. but it was something that had not happened before – ever -so far as the collective memory of the girls could recall. He was housed in the guest building well away from the convent and the school, but he was on site. The girls were quite beside themselves – there was a man sleeping on site and a young man to boot – with a beard!

Graham Randall was reasonably new to teaching. He had experience not just of teaching practice but working in two other schools. Graham had gone abroad for a sabbatical and now, back in England, was seeking to get back into teaching. The opportunity of short illness cover suited him. He liked the sisters, though was intrigued by the very different life style and ethos in the convent school. He could spot high academic standards a mile off – he could also spot over-sexed girls from quite a long way away and, in their navy blue uniform, the sixth form gave off a palpable aurora of charged sexuality. It amused him.

He had noticed Charlotte early on. Not because she was loud, outspoken, or even flirty. On the contrary she was quiet, but the blond pigtails done up with navy blue bows seemed so inappropriate by the sixth form and drew his attention. Rather little girly – but he supposed that was a bit of a result of the girls being kept in a school environment, away from the world and, indeed, cut off from fashion and socialising with boys.

The talk of the girls was almost exclusively about Graham Randall, certainly for the first few days he was there. He caused a stir. Charlotte was not the only one affected, but she was the one who did something about it and tried to research matters in depth. Perhaps she had meant to tell Helen, but it was her own idea and its execution fell to her alone.

Charlotte well knew where the bathroom was in the guest building flat Mr. Randall was using. She also knew the tree that grew by the guest building and was pretty sure that an easy climb would provide an uninterrupted vantage of the window – a window not, as she recalled, glazed with obscured glass. If she could catch Mr. Randall bathing then she could see what men really looked like – in the flesh. Creeping out late in the evening after the girls were in bed was not difficult; she padded down the dorm. uniform clutched in one hand, shoes in the other; dressed quickly in one of the bathrooms, hanging her nightdress on a peg and was on and out into the dark, keeping to the shadows as she had seen in films. It was exciting if a bit scary – this was ‘out of bounds’ activity.

The bathroom light was on and Charlotte wasted no time in climbing the tree, it was easy enough for her to do, her pleated skirt allowing her legs plenty of movement. Easing herself onto a bough, she could see clearly into the bathroom and at the open bathroom door, so the first part of her plan had worked out just as she hoped; a possible problem of a steamed up window had not materialised; but he was not there. Charlotte pouted; she could wait.

The sudden sight of Mr. Randall coming through the poker oyna bathroom door completely naked shocked Charlotte. He was so hairy and his penis so much bigger than she had expected from Michelangelo. Her mouth just opened in surprise. Whether it was the shock or carelessness in moving to get a better look, Charlotte slipped and fell out of the tree with a great rustling of branches and quite a thump on the ground. She lay there winded, dazed, and momentarily confused. The appearance of Mr. Randall in his dressing gown did not lessen her confusion.

“Charlotte – what? Are you hurt?”

It was soon evident she was not much damaged, and Mr. Randall picked her up and took her inside and up to his flat and set her gently down on his sofa. Charlotte lay there as he disappeared and returned with a bowl of hot water and some cotton wool and began to bathe the scratches on her face and on her legs.

Charlotte’s thoughts were coming together in one way, but in another were quite wild. Mr. Randall, a man, was touching her legs – admittedly with cotton wool but gently with warm water.

“Charlotte, what on Earth were you doing up that tree?”

It was not an unreasonable question and not one she could think of any answer other than the truth, “I was looking at you sir.”

Graham Randall’s eyebrows rose, “Why?” He was not stupid, he had a very good idea indeed, and the possibilities of the answer were not uninteresting to him. Charlotte at eighteen was very pleasing to the man in him.

“I’ve never seen a man in the nude, only pictures of statues and drawings in the Biology book and, and, sorry sir, but I wanted to see for myself…”

“The differences between men and women, boys and girls. I see, or rather did you see?”

Charlotte went red and quiet, “Yes, just a bit and then I fell out of the tree, I am most terribly sorry.”

Graham Randall continued his ministrations, folding her skirt quite high up to get at all the scratches; the hot water and his hands touched her thighs, “You’ve not cut yourself too badly, Charlotte, there may be some bruises, but it seems you are moving properly, so no bones broken. That would have given you some explaining. As it is, all you have to do is explain the scratches – perhaps an early morning run might be in order tomorrow and a plausible accident in some brambles?”

“You’re not going to tell the Sisters?”

“No, Charlotte”, Mr. Randall smiled, “I am flattered you chose to stare at me and certainly I am not going to get you into trouble over something so slight – in my eyes anyway. Shall I get you some cocoa?”

It was a nice feeling for Charlotte sitting there, mug of cocoa resting on her lap and clasped in her hands, talking easily to Mr. Randall as he sat there in his dressing gown.

“So,” he said moving the conversation deliberately, but not unreasonably, back to Charlotte’s reason for being outside his window, “did your view confirm your knowledge of male anatomy.”

Charlotte went red again, “I didn’t realise men were so hairy or so large… I mean…”

“Large? Surely you have noticed men are generally taller than women?” He was being disingenuous.

“Oh yes, I meant, your, your… you know what.”

“Ah, really?”

“The pictures of statues from Roman times.”

“Ah well that was a stylistic thing. It did not mean the Romans or Greeks had small penises, they just carved or painted them that way. The classical Greeks regarded a small cock, seemingly, as more pleasing to the eye”

He had casually used the words, ‘penis’ and ‘cock,’ it caused a little flutter through Charlotte. She ventured a question. It was something she had been puzzling about.

“What’s circumcision?”

“Come off it. You know what that is, the cutting of the prepuce – its removal or partial removal.”

“Prepuce?”

“Haven’t you a brother? It’s also called the foreskin. The tube of skin covering the end of the penis, the glans, the bell end. It is there to protect the sensitive skin and retracts when the penis becomes erect.”

Charlotte’s heart jumped, he had used the ‘erect’ word.

“You’ll have seen it on those statues and paintings you have been looking at too much. The Ancient Greeks valued a long prepuce so you’ll see it long and tapering on pictures of grown men, though it makes their cocks look like little boys, unretracted, long and finely tapered. The posthe.” The teacher was exerting itself in Mr. Randall.

“Mostly statues seem to have leaves hiding the… penis.” She had said it – used the word.

“Ah yes the membrum virile hidden behind a fig leaf. A Victorian idea of modesty, so as not to offend the female sex, but they are all later additions tacked on. Behind the fig leaf will be the real article. The Greeks did not regard the naked body as something to be ashamed of or to be hidden as a matter of modesty. Far from it, their athletes ran and wrestled naked. What was immodest was to reveal your glans, the bell end under the foreskin. Athletes used to tie a string or canlı poker oyna leather thong around the foreskin to stop it retracting and embarrassing them – the kynodesme – Charlotte, you won’t find that word in your school English-Greek dictionary. They regarded circumcision as barbaric as it resulted in permanent exposure of the glans penis.”

Charlotte had a momentary image of Mr. Randall giving lessons in sex, historic, theoretical and practical, to her class. A delicious idea.

“So, Mr. Randall, it would have been fine for me to see you naked so long as your penis was tied up!”

Mr. Randall laughed, “I suppose so.”

“Why immodest?”

“The foreskin rolls back ready for sexual intercourse; therefore, the revealing of the glans penis suggested the man was ready for sex. It was that they regarded as rude.”

He had said ‘sex,’ golly gosh! Charlotte imagined herself being rude; imagined herself rolling back Mr. Randall’s foreskin and exposing him and making him ready for sexual intercourse! An exciting idea for the young girl. She took a deep breath, “what does this glans look like?”

“Well, as I said, it’s the rounded, bell end of the penis; shaped that way to enter the vagina easily; I suppose pointed would have been best, but it’s rounded rather like an acorn. Imagine an acorn on the end of a stick and how easily that would slip into your vaginal when you are wet, lubricated of course. To be fair your fingers are rounded at the end, and I am sure you slip them in easily enough when you masturbate.”

Charlotte swallowed and went very red. She knew that word from the dictionary but the idea that Mr. Randall knew she played with herself was so, so embarrassing.

“You do play with yourself in bed? I’m sure you do. All girls and, of course, boys do. Well?”

It was a teacher question. She had to answer.

“Yes,” she said her eyes demurely looking downwards.

“Of course. Well perhaps it is time for you to go to bed.” He chuckled. “And have a little play. It is late.”

“Mr. Randall?”

“Yes?”

There was a pause, “Can I see it again?” The words were out. She almost hadn’t said them.

“You want to see my penis?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean… I’m just intrigued and a bit puzzled. If I could see, then it would be clearer…”

“Well, I suppose there is no harm.”

He was going to do it, he was really going to do it. Charlotte’s heart leapt. Mr. Randall was standing up and loosening the cord of his dressing gown right in front of her. The reality was that he had always intended to do that – of course – but Charlotte was not to know that.

Charlotte’s face was a picture to Mr. Randall as he let the dressing gown slip from his shoulders to stand naked before the seated schoolgirl. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth open almost in shock. He wondered if he had been erect whether she would have fainted!

Close up, not just through the bathroom window, Charlotte was amazed at its size.

“Mr. Randall… it’s so big. I mean compared to the statues, why it must be three inches long and twice the diameter of my thumb. And, oh that’s the glans, you can see it under the foreskin and…”

“Yes Charlotte. All very different from the female anatomy.”

“It’s funny how testes have their own little bag but that’s to keep them cooler to make spermatozoa properly isn’t it? I can see them in there, I thought they were round, but they are egg shaped.” The words came gushing out.

“You’ve learnt your lesson well. Seen enough?”

“No, no it’s… fascinating. I always thought the penis was so much smaller. I mean how does that get into a vagina? You must really have to push hard. It’s so big.”

“That’s why you get all wet. It is simply lubrication to aid penetration. But my cock is not erect, Charlotte, it does, you must realise, get bigger and harder of course.”

“Oh? What? Bigger? Really? Can I see it?” Charlotte could not imagine it got much bigger.

“I think you’ve seen enough.”

“Oh, Mr. Randall, please. Can I touch it? This is so interesting.”

He appeared to Charlotte to relent. “Well I suppose it is educational, but this is also getting sexual. You shouldn’t be doing this: I shouldn’t be doing this. You are not to breathe a word to your friends. Promise?”

“Yes, of course.”

He had his doubts, girls were not too good at keeping secrets, but the prospect of sexual relations with Charlotte and perhaps her friends was more than attractive.

“Well then, you may touch but it will erect I can assure you.”

Charlotte tentatively reached out and lifted it upwards on her fingers so that it was pointing directly at her, the wee hole, or was it the sperm hole, so visible at the top of the glans. It was soft and malleable in her hand – warm as well.

“Mr. Randall, can I pull the foreskin back and see the what-you-call it?”

“Yes, go on,” again the chuckle, “if you must. Just roll it back, yes like that. That is the glans penis, just like an acorn as I said.”

The internet casino little pale pink knob was out in the open.

Her fingers encircled the penis.

“Mr. Randall it’s, it’s growing.” And it was, in her hand, she could feel movement and she stared and stared as it got bigger and bigger, feeling firmer every second in her hand and, with it, the acorn head, the glans, got bigger, smoother and darker. Charlotte was so surprised but did not let go. She could feel the pumping of the blood as the cock erected and stiffened in her hand.

“The stimulation of your hand, you see Charlotte, involuntary really on my part. My brain cannot react otherwise to the touch of, if I may say so, a pretty girl like you. If you like, my subconscious is thinking ‘sexual intercourse,’ though, I can assure you, my conscious mind is very definitely not thinking that, so no need to worry!”

To Charlotte, on the contrary such an idea was anything but a worry.

The erection was pulling itself upwards and, rather in shock, to what was happening, Charlotte let go and the whole thing bounded upwards and stood – that was the best way to describe it, as a big curving flesh banana up from Mr. Randall’s curly hair. It looked enormous.

“I never… I mean that can’t get in a vagina it is far, far too big.”

“It can, Charlotte. It can.”

“It shouldn’t be this big, it really shouldn’t. We talked… I mean my friends and I…”

“But I can assure you this is quite normal, I am quite normal, not a freak… did you not see diagrams in your biology book?”

“Yes but no scale. We just looked at the photographs of statues and thought…”

“Wrongly it seems. Well, this is certainly educational!”

“Have you?”

“Rather a personal question, Charlotte, but yes.”

Charlotte reached out again. She could not close her fingers around it. Moving her fingers she curled the foreskin slowly back over the glans and down again. So lovely to hold in her hands – and so big. She stared and stared and thought she needed to say something.

“For protection not Greek modesty?” She rolled it down again.

“Yes, though that is also how boys masturbate – mostly. Rolling the prepuce backwards and forwards.”

“Circumcision must rather curtail that and remove the protection.”

“Yes, though an oiled-up hand will do just as well. Like sliding in a vagina you see!”

Charlotte was enjoying this talk and seeing the glans alternately appear and disappear. It was so smooth and streamlined. “You must like this then?”

“Very pleasant, Charlotte.”

“Do you masturbate.” Her boldness surprised her.

“You are getting very personal, Charlotte. Yes, sometimes.”

With her other hand she reached for the scrotum, wanting to touch more.

“Careful Charlotte, those are sensitive, a firm grasp will cause me pain.”

“That I do know. All the girls know about kneeing men in the groin. This is such a funny wrinkly skin bag. I can lift it up and down.”

“Go on and feel the testes inside, you can feel them all around but carefully now.”

“They are all smooth inside, little soft eggs.”

“Careful.”

“Oh, Mr. Randall, I’m not hurting, am I?” She pulled her hand away.

“No, no that is fine. You need to understand what they are.”

But her hand returned to the penis, squeezing the shaft, feeling its shape.

“It’s so different from how I imagined. I mean Michelangelo’s David has such a little penis in comparison.”

“You would have preferred it sculpted more like mine? It wouldn’t really have the same classical beauty now if David stood like this.” He got up freeing his cock from Charlotte’s hand and stood in the pose of Michelangelo’s statue. “More like this? Only he is seventeen feet high.”

Charlotte laughed but the idea was not unappealing. Now seeing Mr. Randall, indeed any man, naked and erect from a little distance she was struck how very different he looked from the classical statues.

“Well I suppose I’d better send you back to the dorm. Are you OK to walk, do you want me to come with you?”

Charlotte burst into giggles, “What, like that!” The idea of Mr. Randall escorting her through the dark school ground completely naked and with his erect penis was just so funny.

“No, Charlotte, I think I might get dressed first.”

Charlotte could not really believe she was actually in Mr. Randall’s flat. Moreover, with him standing there completely naked complete with an erection which was such a monster compared to what she had imagined.

“Do I have to go, Mr. Randall? I do so like seeing you like that. I mean, it’s so educational.”

“I think we’ve done the education, Charlotte, what else do you want to know?” He was standing over her, she seated, his erection above her and him not two feet from her.

“How much stuff comes out?”

“Seminal fluid and semen on ejaculation?”

Charlotte reddened again. Words she had looked up in the dictionary.

Mr. Randall sighed and sat down again. “Well it’s not like weeing if that is what is worrying you!”

“Oh, no I never thought that. But it’s so funny it all comes out of the same place. We looked at the biology diagram and couldn’t really believe that.”