Dr. Guenter Klow
Dr. Klow's Gallery Of Women: Bette
"Stop behaving like a bloody twit," Bette told her naked reflection in the full length mirror. "There isn't going to be any change in how you look after you get rid of your virginity."
"But are you sure? Really sure?" her reflection seemed to ask. "Shut up and get into your panties so Derek can get you out of them and get rid of that seal in your pussy."
Before leaving the bathroom, Bette paused as if to take inventory of her physical assets. She counted two breasts. They were neither big nor small, she decided, just average in size.
"They are beautiful," she mused aloud as she fondled the firmly jutting, creamy white breasts and watched pink nipples darken and elongate. "Derek will love my breasts. God, it's going to feel so good when he does things with his hands and mouth. I just know he'll suck my breasts. Will I feel like a mother having a baby suck? No, I'll feel horny, that's what I'll feel."
Bette continued the inventory. She admired her not quite flat tummy, just slightly rounded and then the neat triangle of reddish brown hair below, where her firm, white thighs met.
"He'll like it all," she told herself. "When he sees me like this, he'll want to part my thighs and look at what I'm hiding between them. My flesh is young and firm and so smooth. He'll be dying to spread my thighs and see my cunt, my tender little virginal cunt. He'll want to see it and touch it. He's going to be gentle. I know he is. He won't be like those pigs at school, grabby and rough. He'll know just what to do and how to do it."
As she talked to herself, Bette felt her thighs moving apart, found a hand slipping between them, rubbing gently on her vulva.
"Should I masturbate?" she asked herself as the tips of her fingers parted a moist path to make that possible. "No, not now. I'm randy, I'll keep it that way and let Derek do it all."
Her mind was too slow in flashing the message and one finger slipped slowly, gently into the slit before she was able to order it out.
"Get your finger out of your slit and get dressed, you randy bitch," she told herself, then she laughed an almost silent laugh as she walked naked to her bedroom.
Bette was free to walk naked around her house because her parents were away. It was her eighteenth birthday and they weren't there to help her celebrate.
They had arranged for an employee of her father's firm to deliver the red Corvette and the salesman's professional smile as he handed her the key, but they couldn't change their travel plans to be there themselves. That would have been too much trouble. That would have involved love and they couldn't waste their time on something silly like that. It wasn't as if love were as important as money.
"Bastards," she snapped angrily as she sat on the edge of her bed and began dressing. "Goddamn selfish bastards. They can't spare me any love, just money. Okay, Derek will offer love when I give him my virginity. For just a little while, I'll be loved or at least, made to feel that I'm being loved. I hope he likes my uniform. Oh hell, I'm sure he will. How often does he have eighteen year old virgins coming to him to be deflowered?"
The eighteen-year-old virgin put the white satin garter belt on, then drew on the dark brown nylons and attached the suspenders. She liked the way the nylons caressed her firm, white thighs and was sure Derek would too.
After that she slipped into a pair of white nylon panties and smiled as she saw the bulge of her nicely bushed mons veneris through the stretched fabric.
"White is the color of virginity," she told herself as she reached for the white bra she had purchased for the big event. "Perhaps if I have him fuck me again, I'll wear sexy black lingerie, but this time, it has to be white for the vestal virgin."
Tucking her breasts into the cups of the bra, she sighed, fastened it, rubbed her hands over the more than well filled cups, then reached for the short dress that was the rest of her uniform.
"I wonder what the neighbors will think when they see me walking out of the house, getting into my new car?" she asked aloud. "Wouldn't they shit if they knew that Bette, the eighteen-year-old virgin is going out on her birthday to have her cherry plucked?" She laughed as she hurried from her bedroom, paused in the living room to pick up the keys of her car, then she was outside, her skin tingling with excitement, seeming to respond to the touch of sun and air as she anticipated other touches she would feel in just a little while, the touches of the man she had chosen to rid her of the impediment of virginity.
"Hi, Bette," her neighbor, Mrs. Carlson called as she paused from her chore of digging dandelions out of her front lawn. "You look as radiant as a bride."
"Do I?" Bette asked with a beaming smile as she paused for a moment. "I guess I feel radiant, but not as a bride."
"What do you mean?" the matron asked, a puzzled frown on her tired face.
"I mean if I were a bride, it would mean that some man was going to own me. That, wouldn't make me feel at all radiant."
"Oh you young ones," the woman said with a sigh and a smile that looked almost bitter, "you're so smart. If our generation had been that smart at your age, the world would be a very different place."
"For better or for worse?" Bette asked and realized that she was staring down into the crotch of the woman as she squatted.
The mature thighs looked big and smooth and white, yet there was something wrong, as if the fleshy nest they were capable of providing, was somehow neglected, unoccupied. Mrs. Carlson had a husband, but as Bette thought of the man, of seeing him sitting on the porch in his singlet, swigging beer from a bottle, looking sweaty and unshaven, she decided the woman showed good taste in keeping the space between her clean thighs unoccupied if he was the alternative.
"Don't tell anyone I said so, Bette, but for better. I wish someone had told me that when I was your age."
"I won't tell if you won't, Mrs. Carlson," Bette told the woman, moving closer and lowering her voice. "I'm on my way to spend the night with a beautiful man who is going to take my virginity. That's why I look so happy."
"I think you mean that, Bette. That's why you are wearing white," she added and as she looked up, Bette realized how short her dress was, short enough so that the woman was able to see her panties. "I hope it will be very good for you. It was not good for me the first time. My husband, he was like an animal."
"This won't be like that. I picked the man especially for the job."
"But no. The woman does not pick the man. The man picks the woman."
"That was then, Mrs. Carlson. This is now. When I want a mechanic to work on my car, I'll pick one, a good one. When I want a man to work on my cunt, I choose the right man for the job."
"So different the world is, Bette. Too soon I was born and too late I learn. For you it is so different."
"Are you going to wish me luck, Mrs. Carlson?" Bette asked, feeling that it was somehow important.
"Luck you do not need," the woman replied, her accent rising with her excitement as she got to her feet. "Always I know you are a beautiful girl. Now, under your dress, I see a beautiful woman. 'very beautiful, so much that I get excitement. When I see you next time, I hope you will say it was very good, very beautiful. Your man, he is young?"
"No, my man is forty-two years old. He has had many women. He knows all the things to do to make it good for me."
"Ah yes. Later, you will marry him?"
"Good God, no. I just want a nice fuck, not a bloody husband. I really have to get going, Mrs. Carlson. He's waiting for me and I have a feeling that his cock is very big and hard and just waiting to get between my legs."
"Such a girl you are, Bette. No," the woman amended, "I say such a woman. You make me very excite. You see this?" the woman asked showing Bette the handle of the trowel she had been using.