Christine – My return to normal life after a very difficult time – Part 1

TRUE STORY: After a forced breakup with my youth first love, followed by three years of depression, I got back to life thanks to Christine a classmate

Foreword

I'm an old Frenchman who’s gonna turn 83 next month. I suffer from several serious health problems which drastically limit my life expectancy to just a few more months, maybe a year at best according to medical authorities. As a result, I've had no more sexual capacity for over seven years and can only recall my past loves.

My wife, five years younger than me, has been married to me for 55 years. She lost sexual desire a very long time ago, shortly after the birth of our second and last child, ie 6 years after I took her virginity when she was 22. Since then, she considered her job as a university professor was far more important than sex, a useless constraint for her having enough with two children and no more desire. Being retired now, she’s therefore perfectly satisfied with this situation as I must finally leave her in peace out of necessity, no longer being able to make love to her. And it's easy to understand I’m not! Yet, I’ve always been a faithful and loving husband; I never cheated on her and she never cheated on me either.

I started writing about my youth love affairs, my first and second so far, but I doubt I’ll be able to go on further as time passes too quickly and the end looks closer and closer. I couldn't publish the first one because my girlfriend and I were much too young at the time and no website these days accepts stories involving characters under 18. On the other hand, I can publish the second one here, because the first sexual intercourse with my girlfriend at the time, when I took her virginity, took place three days after her 18th birthday. I'm posting the first three chapters of my love and sex story with her below, the following ones are in writing process, and I’ll post them online if this first part generates enough interest among potential readers, and of course if I'm still alive to do it.
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Prologue

Every summer in July since my earliest childhood, I used to spend 3 to 4 weeks vacationing at my aunt and uncle who lived in the medium-sized city of Nîmes in the south of France, 120 km (75 mi.) northwest of the big harbor city of Marseilles on the Mediterranean sea, and 110 km southwest of where I lived in the lower Rhone valley. My uncle, my mother's elder brother, was a wealthy chartered accountant and was my godfather. He and my aunt had never been able to have children, so I was a sort of surrogate son to them.

There, I regularly met Philippe, same age as me, and his sister Solange, three years younger, my cousins by marriage who were my aunt's first cousin’s children and also lived in Nîmes. Each time, I spent a lot of time playing with them, especially with Philippe, who owned a splendid model electric train layout.

In the summer of 1957, Philippe went for the whole month of July to England with an English family to perfect his practice of English language. As a result, every day I had only Solange as a playmate during my stay in Nîmes that year. Our games, innocent at the beginning, took a sexual turn after a few days. I can’t tell what they were in this story because we were both too young at the time. I can just say we discovered each other in a new way of which I kept absolutely unforgettable memories until now.

Unfortunately, this wonderful relationship didn't last. We were forced to break it off shortly afterwards due to family feuds following the death of my maternal grandfather in 1958, widowed six years earlier. These disputes were over his inheritance, notably between my mother and my uncle, which could only be settled in court as they broke all relationships for 25 years. We exchanged many love letters for almost two years, but never saw each other again. This enforced break-up was extremely difficult to bear for both of us.

After this break, I suffered what we would now call a serious nervous breakdown, and had great difficulties 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 later became my girlfriend. She gave herself to me, providing me with a lot of support and love, and helped me recover from what was a serious shock followed by a sort of mental illness.

I'm now gonna tell you the true story of what I experienced with her. This being a very old story(65 years ago), I'm only telling what I remember clearly, as I forgot a lot of details despite my excellent memory for ancient personal events. I did my best to stick as closely as possible to actual facts, without inventing nor modifying anything. There's little dialogue in my text, because I can't remember what we said to each other at the time. The dialogues I included are reconstructed from my memories, they are to be considered approximate while remaining fully in the original state of mind.

This is a true story of teenage love and novice sex. It started slowly, with lots of love and little sex, but rather advanced flirting as described in the second chapter. Sex arrived gradually and more intensely, described in the following chapters and triumphed (see chapters 4, 5 and following, to be published later) when I made love to my girlfriend for the first time and took her virginity, 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 whenever possible, which unfortunately wasn't as often as we would have liked since we were both living with our parents at the time. So be patient, “everything comes to those who know how to wait” (French proverb, translated in English). But don't expect group sex nor anything fancy like that, it just didn't happen. It was only intense and happy sex between two heartfelt lovers, my girlfriend and me.

I also want to point out that English is not my mother tongue (which is French) and so I don't have a perfect command of it, particularly when it comes to sex. 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 and my numerous stays in the USA, and I apologize for that to the reader.
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Chapter1:

I brilliantly completed my junior high school education in June 1959, 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 uncle 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 on the following September, which was a big change for me. I was moving to another school in the city, further away from where I lived (I lived in the railway station, my father being the stationmaster), 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 pupil in scientific subjects, and among the good ones in literary subjects, without showing any interest in the girls in the class because my psychological state didn't make me want to do so. What's more, I soon integrated the school's rugby team as I was good in sports and already played rugby in junior high school.

A few days before the end of the first senior high school year, three girls from my class (Brigitte, Francine and Josette) came to tell me I should have taken more interest in a classmate named Christine (pronounced "kriss-teen" in French), who had a very strong crush on me, something 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 shy pupil who looked serious and hard-working, but as I spent a very intense year studying, with no interest in anything other than school matters due to my still depressed state, I hadn't noticed 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 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 of course to see her again in July. She replied that 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 that 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 a 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 quite often, wondering whether we could have a future together, and whether I really wanted to. After careful consideration, I decided that, given her attitude towards me, especially on the last day of the previous school year, she did indeed seem to want it, and so it would be worth a try. As she was pretty, intelligent, a good pupil and was the same age as me, I was bound to like her and so she could become my girlfriend if all went well.

On the first day of the new school year beginning of September, when I arrived at the entrance of the high school 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 again in the same class. Then we entered the school premises together. After the roll-call of pupils by grade level was taken, we realized that we would indeed be together again for the entire new school year.

Our class consisted of 36 pupils, the maximum allowed by the French ministry of National Education regulations at the time. All the desks were designed to accommodate two pupils each. Christine sat in the front row with her friend Brigitte, and I sat right behind her with my buddy Robert, as school regulations forbade a girl and a boy to sit at the same desk. As this didn't bother any of the teachers who followed each other in our class, 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 were at different tables.

On the other hand mixing and mingling was allowed on the playground, but any behavior that could be interpreted as equivocal was forbidden and could result in expulsion from the school, and several supervisors were on hand at all times to ensure that pupils behaved properly.

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 one was a new young beginner, the physics-chemistry one was well known in the school and had a reputation as a very good teacher, but as she was pregnant, it was certain that she wouldn't finish the school year with us as she would be on maternity leave shortly.

Nothing really interesting and worth to be told happened between Christine and me in the following weeks, except we got to know and appreciate each other much better. I really liked her kindness and concern for me, she really went out of her way to be nice to me and take care of me. She even had a somewhat protective attitude towards me at times, a bit like a big sister with her younger 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 didn't tell her, or for other reasons I didn't understand, or maybe she was just really in love with me.

A few words about her physical appearance, which was very pleasant to contemplate. She was rather petite, about 1.55 m or 5 ft 2 in (I was taller than her by about 20 cm, or 8 in), weighed certainly less than 50 kg (110 lb) and had a good breast-size which looked 90 C (34 C in USA). The general shape of her body was somewhat reminiscent of an hourglass or a cello, with its slim, well-defined waist, wide hips, full buttocks and slender, athletically muscled legs. She wasn't a beauty prize winner nor a model, but she was a pretty and attractive girl, with a fine, tanned face, long light-brown hair she wore braided, pretty blue-green, almost turquoise eyes and a luscious mouth that made you want to kiss her. She really did have everything it took to please me, and certainly more which I would no doubt soon be able to explore and discover.
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Chapter 2:

At the beginning of November, Christine suggested we go to the cinema together on Sunday afternoon, November 6, to see Federico Fellini's film "La Dolce Vita", the Palme d'Or winner at that year's Cannes International Film Festival, which was programmed in our town. The film starred Marcello Mastroianni, a very famous Italian actor at the time, and the blonde Swedish sex bomb Anita Ekberg, an actress with a nice face and a very shapely body who went on to have 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 deeply 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 on to the railway station. She was dressed in 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 that day lasted almost three hours. 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 and 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, with her left hand she pressed my hand against her boob 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 leg at knee level. I caressed her left tit for a long moment over her clothes, appreciating its volume and firmness as well as the fast hardening of her nipple. The sensation was fantastic. It was the first time, several years after my wonderful and unfortunate romance with my cousin, I touched a female body again, 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 mine, playing with each other at length in a passionate French kiss. Up 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 started to get 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 in turn, 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 well hardened. 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" which I did immediately, and I 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 of depression: I was directly touching a full, soft, firm girl's boob that 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.

At the same time I continued to press her right breast over her clothes with my right hand, her right nipple was also well erect, which she seemed to enjoy very much 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 nor hear anything.

Then I let go off 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 put my hand in her pantyhose and then in her panties, and reached her pussy which 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. This was new to me, as it was the first time I was stroking a hairy pussy. Then, I touched her very wet slit. I parted her swollen labia majora which were slightly covered with hair, less thick than on her mound, and then her labia minora without hair and started to gently stroke 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 did, and I delicately introduced my middle finger into her, which she let me do. It went in rather easily at first as her vagina's entry was very wet, but I soon encountered an obstacle which prevented me to go deeper easily, most likely her hymen. I whispered to her, "Are you a virgin?" She answered softly, "Yes I am, 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 gently stroke the very wet entrance to her love tunnel, occasionally touching her hymen, but without pushing my finger further inside her so as not to arouse her too much nor risk hurting her. I asked her in a low voice if she'd ever been fondled by a boy the way I was doing it, and she replied:
Christine: - “No, you're the first boy to fondle me between my thighs, some already tried but I didn’t let them and no one did it before you. I like it a lot when you do it”.
Me: - “Have you been fondled by girlfriends, and have you fondled any”?
Christine: - "My friend Brigitte sometimes stroked me between my thighs, and I also stroked her in the same way, but that was a long time ago. And we haven't done it again for many years".
Me: - “And you liked it?”
Christine: - "Yes I think, but I don’t remember well. However, I prefer it when you do it, the feelings you give me are much more intense".
Me: - "And have you ever stroked your sex?"
Christine: - "Yes, quite often, I liked it quite well but it didn't have much effect on me. It aroused me, I had some pleasure but I think I never had a true orgasm so far. Maybe I wasn't doing it right".

At this point, 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 even 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 began to stroke it. Then, in a very low voice:
Christine: - "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?"
Me: - "Yes, I really like it when you do, your hand is very soft and it's very pleasant. Have you ever touched a boy the way you do me?”
Christine: - "No, never. You're the first one I've ever touched and stroked. And I've never seen a boy's sex close”.

Her answers to my questions seemed sincere, but I found it hard to take her word for it. She seemed a bit playing innocent, but I doubted she was as inexperienced with sex as she wanted to pretend as an 18 years 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, as 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 and everything was in order when the lights were on, except for my boner in my pants, which could have been seen by someone looking carefully, 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're in the south of France, not far from 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, and resumed our conversation.

Christine: - "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".
Me: - "I'm very happy 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".
Christine: - "During the film, you can take my boob in your hand again, I liked it a lot, but try not to stimulate me too much, otherwise we risk being noticed".
Me: - "Okay, and let me know if I turn you on too much".

After a few minutes of silence while we ate our ice cream, Christine spoke again:

Christine: - "You know now I'm a virgin since I told you and you touched my hymen. I want you to tear it and take my virginity. But you, are you a virgin or have you already had sex?"
Me (with some hesitation): - "I'm not gonna lie to you, I'm not a virgin anymore, I already had sex several times with my cousin by marriage Solange who lives in Nîmes when I was much younger. It lasted three weeks but it didn't end well".
Christine: - "How did it end? Were you caught by her parents?"
Me: - "No. In July 1957, like every year before, I stayed for three weeks in Nîmes at my aunt and uncle (elder brother of my mother) who never could have children. I was a kind of surrogate son for them, and my uncle was my godfather. Solange’s elder brother Philippe, same age as me, was in England all July that year, and unlike in previous years, I couldn't play electric trains with him nor without him. My aunt and Solange’s mother, my aunt's first cousin, arranged for me not to be alone during this time and to play with Solange every day. And our games, innocent at the beginning, soon took on a sexual character".
Christine: - "And what happened to make it all go wrong?"
Me: - "Well, after my return to my parents, we kept in touch by letter, promising to see each other again the following summer, as we did for the previous years. But, in May 1958 my maternal grandfather, already a widower, died, and there was a feud for his inheritance in the family, my uncle and my mother broke off relations and I never saw Solange again. After this forced break-up, I felt very bad, I got deeply depressed, and I'm still not over it today".
Christine: - "I'm sorry for you, I shouldn't have asked you all those questions which hurt you. Don't be angry with me, I didn't mean to cause you any harm. And now I understand your attitude in class and towards me since I've known you".
Me: - "I'm not angry with you at all, you couldn't have guessed. But tell me what you've understood about my attitude towards you and in class for over a year".
Christine: - "Ever since I met you, I've found you somewhat strange. You seem to me to be an open-minded, easygoing boy, but I feel you're distant from others and at the same time a bit afraid. You give me the impression of someone who's suffering but doesn't want to show it. And now I understand the cause of your suffering. I tried many times to make you understand I liked you but you didn't realize it, you ignored all my hints".
Me: - "I'm deeply sorry, but I was too preoccupied with my own problems, coupled with my desire to succeed in my studies, and I didn't see anything. Don't blame me, it's not my fault if I was clumsy with you".
Christine: - "I don't blame you, and now I understand. And I promise you I'll do everything I can to help you get back on your feet. You can rely on me, I'll always be there whenever you need me".
Me: - "That's very kind, but why are you wanna do that?"
Christine (with a big smile): - "Because I love you, you big silly".

After these words, we kissed passionately, with a big French kiss which lasted several minutes.

After our long kiss, she resumed the dialogue:
Christine: - "And you, do you love me?"
Me (with much hesitation): - " Maybe, but I'm not yet in a state to give you a firm answer. I think when, thanks to your kindness and your love, I've recovered from my depressive state, I'll be able to answer yes with certainty, but today I'm not ready for it yet".
Christine: - "Your answer suits me for the time being, and it encourages me even more to do my utmost to help you. I'll do it without a second of hesitation, and I'm sure you'll eventually love me".

Then we heard the cinema bell announcing the end of the intermission. We returned to the auditorium and regained our seats. Less than two minutes later, the lights went down and the film began.

Right from the start, Christine snuggled up to me, I put my left arm on her shoulders and neck, and brought my left hand close to the opening of her blouse. This time, I didn't need to undo the buttons, she'd already done it. All I had to do was to plunge my hand into her bra and take her boob in my hand. In an instant, her nipple hardened again and I took it gently between my fingers. Christine held out her lips for us to kiss, which I eagerly did.

Then we stopped our effusions and watched the film, kissing passionately several times throughout. I held her left breast in my hand for most of the film, stroking her nipple from time to time. I also put my right hand in her panties and stroke her slit a few times during the show, avoiding her clit not to arouse her too much. And she put her right hand on my crotch, rubbing it from times to times.

When we left the cinema, I realized it was almost dark. I offered Christine a lift home on the bus, telling her I'd take the return bus back to my home which was at the end of the line. She accepted my proposal.

Once we'd arrived by her house, we kissed again on our lips, and she stayed with me until the bus arrived in the opposite direction, repeating "I love you" several times. After another big kiss, she went home, waving at me as the bus pulled away. Less than a quarter of an hour later, I was back home in the railway station.
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Chapter 3:

The next morning during recess, Christine told me she obtained her parents' agreement to organize a party at her house (what we called a “boum” or a "surboum" in France) inviting several of her friends from school, boys and girls, and me of course, to celebrate her 18th birthday. It would be on Sunday afternoon, November 27 (her exact birthday was actually November 23), not on Saturday night, as the parents of several of her female friends wouldn't let them go out for a night party.

She also told me she was going to try and negotiate with her parents to get them to leave on Saturday 26th and Sunday 27th and let her have the house for herself. If she could manage it, which might be difficult but didn't seem impossible to her, she would like me to come and spend the whole weekend with her, in particular so that we could sleep together and make love in her bed on Saturday late afternoon and night, and I would take her virginity at this time, as she promised me. I told her I thought I'd have a bit of trouble getting my mother to agree to it, as it would be the first time in my life I'd ever stayed overnight with a girl, but it seemed possible. On the other hand, I shouldn't have any opposition from my father.

Over the next few days, our relationship continued to progress and strengthen, but we tried not to show it too much at school, remaining as neutral as possible to avoid a fuss in the classroom. Every evening, Christine took her bus home from school and I rode home on my bike, which left us little opportunity to vent outside school. And we had to keep a low profile on school premises, which wasn't always easy.

She kept me up to date on her negotiations with her parents to let the teenagers have the house for the whole weekend of her birthday party. They were quite reluctant at first, fearing that a gang of youngsters (probably between 15 and 20 people) might make a mess of the house, but she tried to reassure them it wasn't a gang of thugs, but serious, well-behaved senior high school pupils who wouldn't do any damage. After five days, she convinced them by promising there would be no hard liquor to drink, only soft liquor, fruit juice and mineral water. On the other hand, they didn't bring up the subject of sexual relationships between youngsters as a whole, nor for their daughter in particular, and of course she didn't mention it.

When I got this answer, I asked my parents to give me permission to spend the weekend at Christine, and in particular to spend the night with her. First I had to explain who Christine was, as I'd never told them before.

When I gave them her name, my father told me he knew her father professionally, even though he had few contacts with him. As expected, he told me he had no objection to my spending the night with her, I was a big boy now, and I should know what I could and couldn't do. He advised me to buy a box of condoms at the pharmacy beforehand, as it was the only effective method of birth control allowed in France at the time. He didn't want me to have a child with her, which would certainly jeopardize my educational prospects.

My mother was more reluctant, telling me I was too young to have sex with a girl and risked having a child with her, as condoms can tear during action. She even considered Christine might have a child with me on purpose to force me to marry her afterwards. This last point was a kind of obsession for her, as a childhood friend of hers did exactly that when she was 16 to trap successfully the son of a wealthy industrialist. She already made numerous recommendations to me on the subject, having portrayed girls as potentially evil to me, which often got me into trouble by creating a kind of fear of girls in my mind. After a few days, she agreed, resigned and unenthusiastic.

I informed Christine about my parents agreement for me to spend the full week-end with her and asked her what she would like as a birthday present. After several conversations, I decided to offer her the latest 33 rpm record by the French singer Dalida, whom she liked a lot (and so did I), and a beautiful bound book of poems by the French poet Lamartine, whom she also enjoyed.

But she told me her deflowering and the night of love we'd have together would be the most beautiful birthday present I could give her. What's more, as her next period was normally due around Tuesday November 22, eve of her actual birthday, and usually lasted 2 or 3 days at most, we wouldn't need any protection afterwards, as there would be no risk of her getting pregnant then. And, being on hand, I could help her get the house ready for our party.

And we went to the movies again on the two Sundays that followed. Each time, she took the city bus to our rendezvous in front of the cinema. I can't remember which films we saw, because each time we were busier fondling each other than watching the film.

On the first of the two Sundays, she wanted to sit on my right side instead of my left as on the Sunday before, and smilingly told me that she wanted me to hold her right boob in my hand during the film, so as not to make anyone jealous (I liked her funny request!). I also caressed her slit between her thighs several times with my left hand, but I was less comfortable than when I did it with my right. I had to be careful not to turn her on too much, as she was quick to react strongly, especially if I touched her clit. This showed me that she was really enjoying it, but we had to be discreet. And I couldn't count the number of times she said “I love you” (“when you love, you don't count” - French proverb translated in English).

I accompanied her back home in the evening on the bus and then returned to my home by the same means of transport in the opposite direction.

During the week, she told me that during her birthday party her parents would be going to Lyon with her younger sister Pascale (14) to stay with her paternal grandparents who lived in a small town close to this big city, where her older sister Danièle (22) was studying medicine and had a student room. They planned to leave on Saturday early afternoon as her father worked on Saturday morning, and to return late on Sunday evening, giving us a good degree of freedom. Danièle, to whom she told all about our romance and her intentions by phone, had seen there was currently an interesting painting exhibition at the Lyon Fine Arts Museum which should please her parents, but maybe not so much Pascale.

On the second Sunday, after the (relatively short) film, we went to the riverside for a walk, and above all to be alone and kiss and stroke each other. I then accompanied her home with the bus. She stayed with me until my return bus arrived. Just before my bus was in front of her house, I replied "me too" to her last "I love you". I wasn't quite sure of myself when I said it, but I felt it was a necessary thing to do. I thought I was now on the right road to recovery from my depression thanks to her caring help and love and so I could love her, she had all the qualities for it and deserved it by her efforts to support me. Her pretty face lit up when she heard my words, she kissed me long and passionately until the bus stopped, and then she went home with a big wave.

On Monday morning, we arrived at school at the same time, her on the bus and me on my bike. So we were able to kiss on the lips outside the school, and not risk any problems with a supervisor who might have seen us in action. Then we entered the school premises.

The week went well, and we made the final arrangements for her birthday party, which would be attended by 18 people, including the two of us. Christine made all the invitations, but she consulted me about which people to invite. In particular, she invited two (Brigitte and Francine) of the three girls who came to tell me at the end of the previous school year that Christine was in love with me; the third one (Josette) being away for the weekend couldn't attend.

We planned I would come on Saturday early afternoon, as her parents would be leaving around 2pm. I'd take my bike, bringing all my dance music records, toiletries and a change of underwear. She laughingly told me that I didn't need to bring my pajamas, and more seriously not to bring a suitcase, in order to avoid any suspicion if neighbors saw me coming.

I wished her a happy birthday on the 23th, her actual birthday date, when I arrived at school in the morning, but I didn't get to kiss her until the afternoon after we'd left school, as she was already on the school premises when I arrived. After she took the bus home, I took my bike and went shopping for her birthday presents in the boutiques downtown.
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End of part 1 – to be continued
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If you liked my true story, put a rating and a comment. Also, tell me if you'd like me to post the following chapters. This story really happened close to year end 1960, therefore a very long time ago (65 years now), and kept on afterwards. I changed some names of people and places, as well as some dates, without changing anything in the content nor unfolding of the story itself. I only tell here what I remember clearly, knowing full well that I forgot a lot of details. I didn’t add anything to embellish my story, just sticking to facts I do remember for sure. It's not just a story about sex, it's a true love story in which there is sex of course, as in any true love.
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