So, when the moment of truth arrived, I was shocked to find (not as much as my husband) that my doc's warning of "it may take a few times to actually achieve penetration" was not a joke. I almost shot through the ceiling of our bedroom when my husband attempted to achieve full liftoff, and despite many brave attempts, we actually had to abort the mission. As I lay in my plaid school skirt and pigtails, I felt both elated and defeated. Wow, I'm really a virgin again! I thought. But do I want to be one forever? My husband's gentle encouragement and complete understanding was so amazing, and even he seemed to get a kick out of the "deflowering" process. So here we are a few weeks later, having finally succeeded, and we're both happy with the results. And now when we finish our lovemaking, I usually throw in, "Do you think my parents heard us?" Just for kicks.
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