Tomgirlx93@yahoo.com
Stories from the Life- A Rare Situation
12/26/06
COPYRIGHT 2006
Author's Note: My stories involve off-beat plots. Weird, even. Sometimes, if not always, drug use. I do not contribute to the usage, nor distribution of illegal substances. Neither do I encourage the act. I would like to say, for legal purposes, and for those wondering if I indulge in the drugs that are/have been listed; always keep in mind that it is only a story. A hallucination of a writer's imagination.
If any of these facts have concerned you strongly, please don't read beyond the punctuation.
I find it very hard, to share how I lost my virginity. Now, this experience isn't one to just blush about, in a curious conversation. Whenever I have been asked, either by a small group of people also sharing, I keep it short, and sweet. Or even lie. Chopping, and mixing details. I probably wouldn't be believed. Perhaps be taken for an excessive liar. Making wild shit up, to compete with their tale(s). How could I begin such a story, though? All I can start with is: " I was fifteen. The girl was a random, drunken-druggy tourist? A twenty-something, rather attractive Russian girl, out with her equally attractive, native-friends. Looking to pay for sex, just because they could." Mouths would drop. I would hang my head. Discomfited by it all.
I've read, and have heard, every clique, how-I-lost-my-cherry story. The lesbian versions, anyway. They're always along the lines of: losing it to a friend, they were madly in love with. Sometimes to just plain some girl. The tales of losing it to a friend, of a friend, are common. None, however, contained the content, such as mine. Their stories always end with cuddling, and sweet kisses. Cute endings, that make me gag. Also reluctant, to fully review. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy myself. I run the moment through my mind, at least once a day. It even occurs in pieces, in my mind, when I do masturbate. None of it would have happened, had I not run out, with Frankie, that breezeless night.
The weather felt stale, on August sixteenth. It was about 3am, in the morning, when the situation occurred. We had snuck into a bar, earlier on, for kicks. It was one of the exclusive yet small, gay bars in New York. We were there on a road trip. Frankie and, her friend, Damien Lot came up with the idea. Damien's friend Alton, whom was living with him at the time, came along. As well as my twin sister Chris, and Frankie's girl-toy Amanda. Seventeen straight hours of driving, left most of us beat. Frankie wasn't about to just sit, though. I was the only other person, whom didn't crash; as soon as our Hilton hotel room was opened. So she wasn't about to let me sleep, either. I objected a few times, but after looking out, at the view of the city, I was sold.
I was always of the Dennis the Menace sort. Frankie was a friend, since grade school. She was always the ringleader, to a mischievous plan. Even as we went into our high school years. There were bigger messes to get into, however. Once we thought we were getting older, than we really were. There was smoking out of apples, in the garage, after our parents were sleep. Exchanging porn, amongst each other. Speaking of sex, even though some of us hadn't experienced it yet. Ditching our separate schools, to meet up at someone's house. Done at least once a week. Usually, it was taking the train to the city, during school-hours. Where Frankie lived. We would window-shop the high fashion. Then we would sneak out, at night. Getting decked out, in stolen club-wear, to crash a party. Buying fake Ids, was the best thing one could do. To get into a downtown club, was the thing you just had to achieve. As an under-aged drinker.
My friends were like a wing of nuisance, and I willingly walked under it. Trouble equaled fun, as far as we knew. It couldn't be had any other way. Damien or Frankie were the trusted guides, on the path toward planned-mischief. I knew the sightseeing, in New York, was going to be fun. It had to be. We made sure to find a room, on the gay-strip. Just so we were in the heart of entertainment. Our fake Ids-regardless of our obvious, young faces-got us into a nice pub. It was the weekend, so of course every where seemed to have a line. There wasn't much patience between us, to wait, and get into a bar. Just for a quick drink. So, we settled on something small, but alive. Frankie got me to smoke a few bowls, behind a dumpster. Before working ourselves inside, the swank pub. My brain was sailing, then. However, after a few appleteenies, and several shots of whatever sounded exotic; I was soaring. The sheepish look, across Frankie's face, read she felt the same. Though we were
kids, we had a high tolerance. Not such a great fact. It gave our group freedom to get drunker, and stupid, on those all-nighters. That's when trouble really would boomed.
Frankie and I agreed to keep the night short, though. Not to get too crazy because there was plenty of that, to be done, in the following nights. So, we spent three hours sitting at a booth. Laughing, and getting buzzed satisfactorily. Frankie suggested we leave, when she realized the time.
"Before the girls get to us. I would like to avoid cheating, while I'm on this trip." She had said. Eyes lowered by inebriation.
"I thought you weren't dating her, though. Not actually." I inquired, as we exited the bar.
"Well, there are still feelings involved. Stronger, on her part, anyway." Even as teens, we had a adult-concept of dating. Or so we would think.
As we went on to walking, I looked over at her crotch. It was something I would do. Just to see, if she was packing. Frankie was by far the most confident butch, I had ever met. Always smiling, and her personality very regal. Some could easily figure her to be a bit arrogant, a tad stuck-up, and promiscuous. She was, in fact, all of the above. I don't think anyone that attractive can help themselves. No matter how much they contradict it. My friend was, indeed equipped, below the waist. Carelessly tucking the dick away. It was what made her. What enticed Amanda, whom was actually straight. She was labeled as trade. A heterosexual, whom fools around with the same sex; when bitten by the idea. More complex than a bisexual, to put it plainly. This accrued most in the likes of: housewives or, in Amanda's case, bored rich-teen bitches. Those with "trade-tendencies", were the ones, that only liked the girls; such as Frankie. She automatically posed as a sort of poster boi, for
baby butches. She stood a few inches taller, than the average woman,. Short, dark hair, and blue eyes. Frame girlishly-slim. Slightly chiseled like a guys'. Frankie was famous, for her flawless abs. Other boyish girls looked to her, for guidance of all sorts. From fashion to the proper diet. Even advice, about how to make their hair as healthy, and stylish as hers`.
I then figured, even if she was going for the good-girlfriend role, that night; perhaps she still wanted her notorious attention. I almost toppled over, when focusing back on to the sidewalk. When my footing was stabilized, I looked over at my reflection, in the windows of the store-fronts. I had always been a lipstick kind of girl. My hair was always down. Damien, with his skills, kept it styled to his image. Like a porn-star. Though make-up was never necessary, I loved to apply it. It was fun to act as a model. Begging my mother for Dior, and other expensive names . I drooled over designer purses. I rarely dressed down. Even my sweats, that I wore on relaxed days, were designer. That night, I went for the country-girl look. Just because I wanted to save my best looks, for the latter nights. I wore a curvy, plaid long-sleeve shirt. Checked with red, and black. It was unbuttoned just low enough, to barely show my cleavage. Which was blooming, to my excitement,
beautifully. The low-rise, denim skirt I was wearing ruffled slightly, at the bottom. My smooth, womanly legs steamed from my high-heel boots. The design of the footwear matched that of my top. I had my hair dyed, before the trip, a rich `sienna tone. Which hung freshly styled, around my shoulders. Though sure this outfit was hot, I started to ask Frankie how it all looked to her. As all girls tend to ask, of their friends.
The question was just coming to my lips, as we rounded a corner. Which lead to a side-street. The hotel was straight ahead, in the distance. Not visible, but we had remembered the route, we had taken earlier. That's when that dark, imported car turned along with us. Following at the speed of our stride. The windows were tinted heavily. Frankie looked at me, then at the car, straight ahead, then back at me. All this before leaning over to whisper: " Is it me or is that car following us?" She seemed very concerned.
I didn't even want to think of it. Having my wing signal trouble, in an unfamiliar city, made my stomach lurch. Even with my system occupied by hard liquor, and my head full of smoke, fear still ascended. They must have been following us a while. I had sensed so, a few minutes before. However, I ignored the feeling. The car slowed even more, and the driver's window came down. I think we both swallowed, as we looked over, and waited. Slightly quickening the pace, of our steps.
"Are you hustlers?" the girl asked.
We stopped, and so did they.
"What? Are you high?" fire was on Frankie's tongue.
"Coming down, unfortunately." a voice from the back seat said.
"Ask them if they have any shit." The passenger pushed. "I need another roll. A few more."
Frankie looked at me, and grabbed my hand. She needed back-up, on this one. Usually either Damien, Chris or even Amanda would be her back-up. In sticky situations. Things that involved fierce come-backs, along with wittiness. It was required, in such instances, to shoo away idiots.
"What do we look like?" I was ready for action, in that instant.
"The streets." the driver responded.
"Stylish, and very cute. But I'm also getting troubled, urban, youth." the passenger leaned over, to say.
Frankie's mouth dropped. My expression also read that I was offended. Those had to be insults. Intoxicated, foreign girls could be the root of a bad night. That was apparent, back home, in Chicago. They were the ones with money. In town, from where ever they fly-in from. Out indulging in fag-hag activity. Being a drunken mess, with their up-tight fag friends. Always straight, pretty, and snotty. These girls were giving us that vibe. Them laughing, after our reaction, gave me the itch to find the nearest brick, and use it well.
"Look, I'll give you this..." the driver presented the largest hunk of money, I had ever seen, "if you fuck this whole car."
I blinked, and tried to wake up. Frankie tightened her grip, on my hand.
"My friend won't stop nagging me for a fling." The pretty driver continued.
Her thick accent, and long eyelashes titillated me. Even when trying to hate her. She noticed Frankie was packing. Not a straight-girl fondness. The bitch knew exactly what she was looking for, though, even if she was straight. We must have been it. Something wild, hot, and kinky, perhaps. However, girls or even people like them are trash. Considered that, in our terms, anyway. Only trash would stop someone on the street, in the twilight-hours, and offer money for sex. While they're on hardcore drugs, and perhaps even alcoholics. We had a knack for defining people.
"Get the fuck outta here." Frankie moved to walk away. Pulling me along.
"Don't be scared." The driver teased.
This made Frankie stop. They looked at each other, for a moment. She and the driver. Frankie pulled me close. Steering me so that my ear, was at her lips.
"How crazy is this, right now, Ashley?" She whispered.
"Too crazy. What's going on?" I was all messed up, in the head. Sandwiched between fear, and curiosity.
"Let's do it."
"What?" I snatched my hand away. "This is that kind of random moment, you know, that we should walk away from."
Frankie was obviously taken, by the whole thing. Up for a challenge, as always. I was doubting the idea, mentally. Hoping she was just speaking drunken-thoughts. This was too good to be true. These awfully beautiful girls, pulling up, and offering us a large amount of money, for lesbian-sex. It had to be a trick. Only a fool would fall for such a thing. A damned fool. I was sure of it. Plus, I was becoming incredibly shy. It was like being told you were next to play, in a crucial basketball game, you never really practiced for.
"I got a good feeling about this, though. It`s ok." Frankie had insisted.
I was losing. Optimism was running low, now. I was in a situation, that needed to be avoided. That I had some bad feeling about. I needed to talk her out of this. It was going to be hard. However, I never objected aloud. I was thinking of other options, to steer my friend away from that mess. I was also slowly tossing my trust, into her hands. As I always ended up doing. Before I knew it, we were getting into that posh, foreign car. Packed in the back, and being driven to a deserted place. Getting felt-up, by complete strangers, along the way. When isolation was found, there was no time wasted. The choices in sexual tastes, were odd. The back-seat girls started the unusual, situation. One wanted to blow Frankie's toy, while I licked her pussy. The other sat on Frankie's face. All this in the backseat, of a Jaguar. It worked, somehow. The girls got off quick, and hard. Driver and Passenger jerked each other off, while watching from the front seat. The one I was doing
spilled her cum, all over me, when she came. Licking her was staggering. I couldn't believe I was actually doing it, finally. I shivered when her sweet taste, and smell effected my senses. I also grasped why my friends loved this so much. Giving a girl head. It really is incredible, I had thought. Her response alone, was making my heart race. My body felt sunny, even though I wasn't being stimulated. It couldn't have been the inebriants, making me feel that way. This had to be how it really was.
When they caught their breath, for a moment; the back-seat girls sat outside, for a smoke. Also to make some room. The passenger let her seat all the way back.
"Fuck me in my ass." She demanded, of Frankie. Her accent, made the statement sound tasteful.
My friend wore a shocked expression, for a quick second. Kneeling on the backseat, with her Lucky Brand jeans open. Silicone-cock sticking out 12 inches, wet with saliva. Black, ribbed tee pulled behind her neck. Lips glossy, from the one girl's wetness. I was even turned on, by the sight. Frankie slipped on a condom, as the Passenger positioned herself on the seat. Face toward the floor, with her nicely-formed ass up. My thong was becoming slicker, just watching. The girl's swollen pussy was glistening, even in the darkness, of the car's interior. It was mouth-watering, and I was picturing Frankie sinking into it. Fucking her like a boy. I started stroking myself, as The Driver slid into the back. She positioned my back against the door. My thong was off, with one aggressive- glide. Before I could prepare myself. The girl opened my shirt, and unsnapped the front clasps of my bra. My nipples perked out, when the air brushed my chest. She sucked them forcefully. Licking,
and biting. Pulling with her teeth, till they couldn't stretch anymore. The stirring in my cunt amplified. Lips were touching my bare skin, for the first time. Pleasuring and hurting me. My body went into shock. The feeling startled me, and I tried pushing her away. However, The girl was much too ravenous, for that game. She pinned my arms behind me, and covered my vulva, with her mouth. I yelped, when a flash struck me, like lightening. Hitting my brain, like a pain. Her lips wrapped around my clit. Sucking so hard, it hurt. The skin of my bud, was sliding between her teeth. It was abnormally gratifying, none the less. I was half crazy, from this new sensation, carrying out in my nervous system. Scrambling my thoughts, more worse than a drug.
As four fingers sank into me, I watched Frankie pound the other girl. I recalled grunts of difficulty, a few moments ago. I had heard the girl refuse lube, when Frankie popped open the small bottle. She had it, in her pocket. How prepared, I thought, for trying to be loyal. The girl was taking the dick well, though. Groaning and begging Frankie to go harder, and faster. Frankie did fuck her extremely. My orgasm climbed, as the driver finger-fucked, and sucked me. I was being pumped with so much rapture, I almost couldn't stand it. When she came up to kiss me in the mouth, that's when The Girl noticed company, in the distance. She continued fucking me, even when focusing on the distant headlights. I squealed, kicked my legs, and bounced on her fingers, as I came suddenly. This was just before her saying: "Someone's coming." Sharply addressing this to her friend.
"I am." The other girl grunted. Though it was kind of sexy, her taking it up the ass, it appeared quite painful.
"No. I see someone driving in. Over there."
But her friend kept moaning, and receiving Frankie's thrusts ecstatically.
"It's the police, you fool!" Her friend said, climbing back into the driver's seat.
"Don't stop." The passenger warned, when Frankie tried pulling out. "Let me cum. I'm almost there."
The other two had also spotted the car, slowly coming our way. We were hidden, by stacked freight-trailers. Though the person approaching probably couldn't see us, they were still zeroing in. The others jumbled to get into the car. Causing me to drunkly topple out, when they opened my door. The passenger-girl rubbed herself vigorously, and finished. Nothing was going to stop her from that. Then, again, Frankie tried pulling the toy out. It was all the way in.
This is where it got crazy.
"Shit. It's stuck." she announced.
"What?!?" The driver looked over.
"Open up. Stop being greedy!" One of the others shouted.
"I can't. It won't now. "
By the way Frankie was pulling back, I could see how jammed they really were. When taking it out by her hand, the best she could, wasn`t working; the other girls tried. Pulling Frankie by her hips. The Passenger was grunting out in pain, that time. Then, somehow, they managed to slip Frankie out of the harness. After five seconds of trying, the other way. They tossed her and our clothes, out of the Jag, and drove away. Leaving us there to deal with that mysterious car. All of this happening, in a matter of seconds.
It was indeed a cop. We were able to hide, though. We waited until the pig was out of sight. When the sound of his wheels, fully disappeared, we dressed. Frankie lit a cigarette, as we made our way out of the yard. I was speechless, and so was she. As Frankie went to put her lighter in her pocket. Then her hand hit something, that she hadn't noticed before. I looked over, and there was the promised wad of money. It seemed to weigh down her hand. Both of our eyes popped out.
"How did it get there?" I asked, never recalling Frankie taking the cash.
" One must have stuffed it there, at some point. I don't remember." She smiled, with a coy twinkle in her eye. "I still would have done it, for free."
"After all of that?"
She just laughed, and laughed. Then I laughed. That's when the pain in my pelvis, struck me.
"You ok?" Frankie asked. "What's wrong?"
It was evident, in my walk.
"She was shoving her whole hand, into me."
"Ow. Bet you feel like a virgin, right now."
"I am. Well..."
"What?" Frankie stopped walking, seizing my arm. "I didn't know that. I would have never-"
"I thought you knew."
"I figured you were keeping it to yourself. For whatever reason."
"Well, how come you've never asked?"
Frankie puffed deep, on the Marlboro. "Because virginity, especially for a girl, is a very sacred thing. You are never entitled to tell anyone, unless you want to. It's your business." She could get poetically insightful, when answering a question.
I was known to be sensuous. Considered slutty even. Obviously, it was assumed I had given it away, already. We were all overly sexed kids, thirsty for other girls. Making ourselves look as scandalous as possible, to attract a quick fuck, on party-nights. It was everyone's main goal. Even if they didn't say so. There were some of us that fucked, and let everyone know about it. Then there were some of us, whom keep the experiences reserved. Even if people already did know.
The next day, I was bursting with a strange elation. My eyes felt wider, and my body free. The whole experience left me renewed. Though there wasn't such a sweet ending, of cuddling and kisses; I didn't feel used. I had other ideas, of how I would have lost my virginity. That experience, being nothing I had ever dreamed of, served as a congenial surprise. The following days were spent on shopping, and clubbing. As we had planned, in the first place. Frankie told the others, that she had found the money. I served as the "trusted-witness". It was hard looking Amanda in the face, even though, and even still I don't like her. Damien started a moral-lecture, though. However, when Frankie evenly gave everyone a split, he shut up. I can't remember exactly how much was there, but it all got blown on that trip.
Yeah, I do sort of clam-up, when asked about this raunchy experience. This has only been shared, with my closet friends. That way it should probably stay. I don't think anyone else could handle it.
End.