Porn Star’s Daughter

I must have fallen asleep. I didn’t intend to do it, but I found myself awaken to clicks and whirrs coming from the VCR. Disoriented at first, I grabbed my glasses and looked over at the machine for better detail.

The tape had stopped and then suddenly started counting backwards. Slowly it dawned on me that the tape had come to it’s natural end and had started rewinding on its own. I took a deep breath and sighed a breath of relief – my mother hadn’t snooped at all. The VCR simply had reached the end of the tape and rewound.

The tape… the tape… something about the tape…

I heard my mother moving about in the other room, and I felt a surge of adrenaline bring me to full alertness. I scrambled for the remote and hit the stop button, the whirring and clicking finally coming to a rest. I turned off the TV, and pulled off the covers.

Damn. Still naked.

“Shanny?” she called. “I’m back!”

“Be right there, mom!” I answered.

A few moments later, I stood in the kitchen with my hair quickly pulled back into a pony tail, dressed in a t-shirt and sweats. Underneath, I had pulled on one of my unflattering bras and a pair of my faerie-covered underpants. Hey, comfort over style, right?

“Help me with these, will you?” she asked, sorting out groceries from their bags.

I didn’t want to move too much – not just because I was too sore to do so, but my mother would certainly recognize that I was walking funny. Instead, I stood at the counter and started unbagging the groceries and put them on the counter. I really didn’t want her asking too many questions, so I decided the best defense was an offense.

“Mom, what were you and Dad talking about?” I asked.

“Oh, he was telling me that he was going to be late with the support payments,” she said. She said it nonchalantly, without any hesitation. But she wouldn’t look at me.

“But I’m eighteen now,” I said. “I thought he didn’t have to do that any more.”

“We had an agreement that he would do it until you left for college,” she said, brushing past me to put cans in the pantry.

My mother was a terrible liar. They may very well have had such an agreement, but there was no way that’s what they had been talking about. Whenever she lied, she could never look you straight in the eye. As it was, she hadn’t looked at me directly since I came into the kitchen. At the moment, she was stacking the cans with her back to me. It was an awkward angle to do the task, so I knew she was doing everything in her power not to look me in the face.

“Did you finish your homework for tomorrow?” she asked, changing the subject.

Crap. No, I hadn’t. But this gave me an opportunity to make a somewhat graceful exit. Graceful for me, anyway.

“Not yet,” I said, playing it off as no big deal.

Her response was as predictable as I had hoped. “Well, you should probably take care of that,” she said, reaching to a top shelf. Now I knew she was avoiding me – because there was nothing on the top shelf that needed to be reached. We were both too short to use anything up there on a regular basis.

“Okay,” I said, and I went back to my room.

Even though I didn’t really want to be talking with my mother, I didn’t really want to be in my room, either. As I walked in, I felt like I was starting a jail sentence, which was a radical departure from the sanctuary it had been. All week long I couldn’t wait to get in there, watch the video, masturbate, spend “me-time.” Now, though, it forced me to be alone with my thoughts.

I wasn’t really sure where to turn, who to trust. No one would give me a straight answer, it seemed. My mother obviously didn’t want to be near me. Did I do something wrong? Well, aside from the obvious, but she didn’t know about that. Or did she?

Paranoia started creeping in. As bad as the situation with my mother was, the conversation with Tracy was far, far more disturbing. What the fuck did she mean when she said “the rest of us”? Why was she angry at me? I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong.

I didn’t understand what she had been getting at. Did she want me to come out and say that I was envious? Did she want me to say that I wanted to fuck my own father?

Well, do you?

I replayed the conversation in my head, intermixed with watching them fuck and being fucked by Tracy herself. I remembered how she looked when she sucked his cock, how enraptured she was. Then she had told me about how she had never had anyone make her feel that way.

Maybe I did want to feel that for myself. Maybe, just maybe, she had planted a seed in my mind that there was something out there, something just beyond reach, that my father had. Maybe I did feel like I was so close to getting it, right next to me, so close, just like in the car…

Stop it! Team Morality thundered in my head. Just, stop it you freak!

I did feel like a freak. A pervert. An abomination. There were likely even more accurate words for what I was, but for those I’d have to crack open a thesaurus.

Begrudgingly, my mother had been right about one thing. I hadn’t done any homework that was due tomorrow. In a mindless trance, I fished out my laptop and propped it up on my desk when my phone buzzed. I fished it out of my pocket and stared at the message, confused.

Where are you? It was from Andrew, a boy from school.

Where am I? I’m right here. I began texting him back, a little confused as to why he’d be sending me messages out of the blue.

Home, about to do my homework. You?

Another text popped up as I hit ‘send.’ We are supposed to be working on our team report, remember?

Despite everything going on, my heart leapt into my throat. I looked at the time. Crap! I was a half hour late for a meet up with him. I had totally forgot about him, the project, and – well, about anything else that wasn’t my own problems for the past week or so.

Thinking quickly, I texted back. Family emergency today. Sorry I didn’t text you. On my way.

I scrambled to put my laptop back in my bag, and gather my things so that I could get the hell out of the house as fast as possible. My mood was completely soured. I had no desire – what-so-ever – to go do a team project in the best of times, let alone right now. I had my own personal drama that I needed to attend to, after all.

“Where are you going?” my mother challenged as I came out with my backpack and keys.

“I forgot I have a team project due tomorrow,” I said, realizing that every word sounded like a lie. “I was supposed to be over at Andrew’s house more than half an hour ago.”

My mother’s eyes narrowed, and I could see she didn’t believe me. I felt anger rising about that – I had never lied to my mother. Well, not about schoolwork, anyway. Besides, who the hell was she to give me a hard time? She had just lied to me about the support payments. Hell, she must have been lying to me about my father for years, after all.

“When will you be back?” she asked.

I lost my patience with her. “Like I said, it’s due tomorrow. I’ll be back when I’m back” I spat.

My mother blinked and recoiled as if I had slapped her. There was a part of me that regretted my sudden attitude, but the greater part of me was more annoyed and irritated than anything else.

I could understand her reaction, as I stood there almost daring her to respond in kind. We weren’t friends, exactly, but there had always been a mutual respect between us. It had always been an “us against the world” kind of thing, and we just didn’t seem to ever be at odds with each other.

Then again, I wasn’t the one who started this. She did.

I don’t think that I had ever copped an attitude with her in my entire life. She was my mother, and I was all she had. I hadn’t screamed at her, hadn’t swore, hadn’t called her any names. Nevertheless, In the back of my head I felt as if I had just done something irreparable in the heat of the moment.

We often hear about “bonds of trust” in our lives, but I had always thought they were metaphorical, not physical. But in that moment, it felt like one of those bonds had snapped. It was a small feeling, but it felt like the remaining ones were far weaker as a result.

Yet as I saw her response, something in me changed, pushed me even further. I felt like a lioness who had just weakened prey with a small wound. It was a surge of power, once I realized she wasn’t going to retaliate but instead retreat.

She could have said something to the effect of, “Just watch your tone, young lady,” or “What did you say to me?” or even slapped me across the face for my insolence, and there would be no more lioness, no more bravado, no more attitude.

Instead, though, her flinch seemed to make me even angrier, even more predatory. I wanted to pounce, seize and press the advantage.

“Just… augh!” I said in exasperation, and looked down at my phone.

Ok, another text read. I rolled my eyes as if that, too, annoyed me, when in reality it was just for show.

“Okay,” she said, tentatively. “Just text me if you’re -”

“Yeah, whatever,” I said, waving my hand dismissively, and walked past her.

“- going to be late,” she finished quietly.

As I turned to open the front door, I heard her call after me. “Love you!”

I turned around, fiercely. “I said, ‘whatever’.” My tone was irritated and yet bored at the same time. I made a point to roll my eyes as I turned and walked out the door.

That’ll teach her.

On the drive, I thought about the new-found aggression inside of me. I tried to process where all of this had come from. This was some straight, “Punk Girl”-like attitude right there.

And it worked!

I felt a measure of pride in my new-found confidence. I had stood up to her, pushed back and taken some assertive action. That’d teach her. That’d teach Tracy.

Mom! I meant Mom!

I shook my head, trying to get it back on track. Realizing that I had probably projected my anger for Tracy onto my mother flooded me with a dose of heavy-duty guilt and shame. Maybe I went overboard.

Other girls had screaming matches with their mothers, swore at them, did petty, malicious passive-aggressive attacks and never thought twice about that. By way of comparison, this was nothing. Also by way of comparison, with the way that my mother and I usually got along, it had been everything.

Doubt crept in. “What have I done?” I asked aloud.

The sound of my own voice disturbed me even more, so I quickly turned on the music on the car radio. I selected some satellite station with the most riotous, thrash metal I could find. It seemed the only way to drown out the guilt that was threatening to drown me.

The music helped, surprisingly. It felt like the kind of music that a girl-with-attitude would listen to. Inside, two parts of me were at war – the part that was the good girl who was ashamed at lashing out at my mother for my anger at Tracy, and the part that really, really did not want to care.

I found the entire battle completely exhausting, and a third voice started to arise amid the cacophony. This voice was far more practical, more logical. For my entire life, this was the voice that had always reigned supreme over the more emotional side, and I found comfort in its strength.

This voice started to remind me that I had a job to do, had a project to work on. I had a due date to complete, and a partner to do it with. It also reminded me that I had done absolutely nothing on the project in the two weeks that it had been assigned. I hadn’t even spoken to Andrew about it.

Hell, I hadn’t even thought about Andrew since this whole thing began. Once again I was reminded just how self-absorbed I’d been in the past week. I had completely forgotten about him, about the project, about school – everything. I vaguely remember him talking about getting together to work on the report on the day Simone had “gifted” me the video, and had agreed to meet up while being totally focused on whether or not to watch it.

It was no wonder that I had forgotten to meet him.

He had every right to be pissed at me, and the “old me” would likely have shirked at a rebuke that he was probably going to give me. The “new me,” though, wasn’t in the mood. If he tried, I’d give him a telling off.

I didn’t know much about Andrew. Nobody did. He was a late transfer into my class, a military brat whose father had been restationed at the worst possible time of the school year. I think, in fact, he had only been at the school for about a month. Probably not even that long. It was very, very easy to ignore and forget about him.

Yeah, you have no idea what that’s like, do you? Team Morality sniped at me.

Whatever.

I pulled into the driveway of his house, and gathered my things. I don’t know what I expected, perhaps some orgy of evidence that his parents were military fanatics; flags everywhere, insignias, hell maybe even a tank in his front yard. I had no idea.

The house, though, was about as normal as could be. There was another car in the driveway, nondescript and definitely a family car. I had no idea what kind it was, but it definitely didn’t scream “badass military urban assault vehicle.”

I knocked on the door, and a handsome man with a close-cropped haircut opened it. “Can I help you?” he asked, puzzled.

“Oh, um, hi,” I said. “I’m Shannon. Is Andrew here?”

“Yes,” he said. He didn’t look like he was going to offer any additional input.

“Um, I’m supposed to work on a school project with him,” I said, trying to fill the vacuum.

A cloud crossed his features, and I could see that he was not pleased. I don’t know what it was, but there was something about this man that was too intense for comfort.

He turned and shouted up the stairs. “Andrew!” he commanded.

“Coming!” Within moments, Andrew came down the stairs in a hurry.

Andrew was attractive in a way that I would call cute. He wasn’t handsome, and he certainly wasn’t ugly. But he had a freshness to his look that seemed to fall somewhere in-between. He was dressed in a t-shirt and basketball shorts that came down to his knees, but he was far too short to play basketball. I doubted he even came close to six feet tall, even though he was certainly taller than me.

“This young lady says that you are supposed to work on a school project,” he said, more of a statement than a question. Even so, it demanded a response.

“Yes, sir,” Andrew said. His body language told me that there was something between the two of them, and it wasn’t anywhere near the kind of relationship I had with my mom.

Had? Or “had had” with my mom? Once again Team Morality started tapping me on the shoulder with guilt about what I had done when I left the house.

“On a Sunday?” his father demanded.

“Yes, sir. It’s due tomorrow, and- ” Andrew got cut off.

“Tomorrow?” his father’s voice brandished a sudden edge that I had never heard before in my entire life. It was as alien as anything in Area 51. My own father had never taken that tone with me, and it scared me. I suddenly wanted to leave and never come back.

Andrew glanced at me, but then flicked his eyes back to his father. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“What have we talked about with respect to finishing your schoolwork before the last minute?”

Andrew swallowed, and said, “There were circumstances beyond my control, and-”

I saw his father’s neck start to turn red. Apparently whatever it was that Andrew said was the wrong thing. The very wrong thing.

“Enough,” his father growled. He didn’t yell, but instead his voice was incredibly low. Almost a whisper. It was so low you had to strain to hear it.

“It’s my fault,” I blurted out, catching all of us by surprise. “Andrew had wanted to complete the project last week, but I had a personal, family emergency. He was a total gentleman and did not force me to try and work while I took care of it.”

I have no idea what caused me to use the words I did, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. I added emphasis on the word “family,” just in case it prevented any additional digging. Plus, it was true.

Andrew’s father looked at me, and slowly nodded. “That’s good to hear,” he said, calmness returning to his voice. A note of pride seemed to be creeping in as well. “A gentleman always respects a lady’s trials and tribulations and helps however he can.”

It was stilted, formal language, and sounded like it came straight out of a Z-Grade movie with bad acting.

“Yes, sir,” Andrew said, offering no emotion.

“Still, it would have been nice had you informed me of this,” Andrew’s father continued. “You know there is a rule about having guests when we’re out.”

“Yes, sir, but that could not be helped,” Andrew intoned, casting a “knowing” glance my way. I got the feeling that this was all for show, but I couldn’t tell if it was for my benefit or his father’s.

At that moment, a plump woman with an ostentatious display of jewelry stormed into the room. “What’s going on in here?” She stopped abruptly when she saw me. “Who is this?” she demanded.

At that point, both Andrew and his father stiffened. I guessed that even a military man could meet his match. “Well?” she challenged. “Who is this slut?”

I was shocked. I couldn’t believe my ears. I had no idea who this woman was, and she had no idea who I was. My inner Punk Girl was about to bring out the claws, and I fought to remain calm.

“Mother!” Andrew gasped.

“Cassandra!” his father scolded.

“Who are you?” she ignored both of them, and directed her vitriol at me. I still had no idea what was going on, and this sudden hostility put me completely off guard.

Somehow – and I have no clue how I managed to do it – my voice was steady and calm. Just a week ago I would have been a puddle of tears, but there was no way I was going to let her stand there and talk to me that way.

“I’m Shannon,” I said, cooly.

“It’s all right, Cassandra,” Andrew’s father tried to placate her. “They need to work on a school project.”

“Oh no they don’t,” Cassandra dug in her heels. “There’s no way I’m going to allow some hussy to spend the night with Andrew while we’re out.”

Andrew’s demeanor tightened up again. He was embarrassed, and I couldn’t blame him. My nascent rebel wanted to lash out, but I knew that it wouldn’t have done any good – especially for Andrew.

Jesus, I thought. If this was going to be his parents’ reaction, why the fuck did he invite me here?

“Cassandra,” his father’s voice was a warning. “That’s enough. You are being rude.”

The word seemed to have a special meaning, and his mother suddenly blinked. She shook her head as if shaking cobwebs from her brain, and amazingly, a smile broadened across her face.

“Hi, I’m Andrew’s mother,” she said warmly, extending her hand for a handshake.

What the actual fuck!?

“Um, hi,” I said, taken aback. “I’m Shannon.” I looked at Andrew for some recognition that this was just not normal. Instead, all I got from him was an unreadable, placid expression.

“Oh, Shannon, it’s so nice to meet you,” Cassandra said, sweetly. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid you caught us at rushed moment. Frank and I are late.”
Ah, so Frank was Andrew’s father’s name. That little tidbit of information, though, was completely lost in the total what-the-actual-fuck-was-that shift in Cassandra’s behavior.

“Normally we don’t allow guests to visit Andrew when we’re out,” she explained, double-checking her purse for something. “But grades are very important, aren’t they, Andrew?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Andrew intoned. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

“Cassandra,” Frank got her attention. “Are you ready to go?”

“Oh, yes, dear,” she said. “Sorry it took me so long.” She turned to me and cast a knowing smile. “You know is girls, we like to look just perfect.”

I was standing in their foyer in a t-shirt and sweats. I wasn’t sure just who “us girls” she was referring to, but I nodded in silence nevertheless.

“Finally,” I heard Frank mutter under his breath. Then, so that Cassandra could hear, he added, “We better be going, then.”

Cassandra flitted out the door, and turned back to blow Andrew a kiss. “You behave yourself, Andrew!” she called. “Goodnight, Sharon!”

“Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Weyson!” I called after them, ignoring the fact that she called me by the wrong name. In fact, I was ignoring a lot.

Andrew closed the door, and held onto the doorknob for a while, his eyes closed. I thought I had it tough. He looked like he had the weight of the entire world on his shoulders, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Come on,” he finally said, and then walked past me to head up stairs. I looked out the front window as his parents were getting into their sedan, their reaction to me showing up on their doorstep making me nervous.

“Should I,” I started, and he stopped on the third step. “Should I go?”

He shrugged. “If you want to,” he said. He didn’t seem concerned at all one way or the other. “I’ll finish the report, don’t worry about it.”

Well, I couldn’t do that. I didn’t really know Andrew all that well, and didn’t know what he would do or how he would do it. Normally, I was the person who had to do all the work in any group project, and I didn’t want to do that to him either. Plus, I would simply wind up obsessing about whether or not he would do a good enough job, and would wind up pulling an all nighter anyway writing my own report.

“It’s not that,” I said. “Just…” I looked back at the door.

“Yeah, well,” he said, following my glance. “There’s nothing you can do about that now.”

He turned and went back up the stairs. I hesitated for a moment, and then followed him.

On the way up, I took a glance at the rest of the house that was viewable from the staircase. The house was absolutely immaculate, with not a single thing out of place. It looked like one of those model houses they have where you can go in and see if you want to buy one in the neighborhood. It looked real, and yet not real, at the same time.

Upstairs, it was the same story. I thought about my own house and how it was clean, but definitely not tidy. My own room left a lot to be desired in the “uncluttered” category, but even if I worked for a month straight, there was no way I would ever get to this level of perfection.

Andrew’s room was no different than the rest of the house. Everything had a place, and was in it. Andrew settled himself down at the computer, and pulled up a document on the screen. As I pulled out my laptop, I could see that I needn’t have bothered. The document was our report, fully written and completed.

My jaw dropped open. Again, I felt like I was having a what the fuck?! moment.

As I watched, Andrew opened up a second document, which looked suspiciously like the first.

“I’m so confused,” I said. “What is this?”

Andrew shrugged. “Our due date is tomorrow,” he said. “I couldn’t wait any longer to get it done, so I decided to get started last week.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I started.

Andrew looked at me, and it was the first time since I’d arrived that he’d really looked like he wanted to interact. “It’s no big deal,” he said. “I’m used to doing group projects by myself.”

“Well, so am I,” I said, a little irritated. “What I mean is, we could have cranked this out tonight with no problem.”

His reaction was indecipherable. “No, we couldn’t,” he said softly. There was something in his tone that gave me the impression that there was more to what I had witnessed than just a psycho mother and an overbearing father. My irritation dissipated as my reaction softened.

“Andrew,” I said, putting my hand on his arm. For some reason, I wasn’t surprised when he flinched at the touch. I withdrew my hand, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. “I have no idea what’s going on. You invited me over to your house to work on this report, but you’ve already got it finished.”

“It’s not finished,” he began, but I cut him off.

“And when I get here, I watch The General ream you out -”

“He’s a Captain,” Andrew corrected me. “In the Navy.”

“- and then your mother calls me a slut,” I continued, ignoring his interruption. “And now you’re telling me that you have done the work already? What. The. Absolute. Fuck?”

Andrew sighed, and looked down at his lap where his fingers were fidgeting. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I had hoped they’d be gone by the time you got here.”

“That doesn’t answer my questions, Andrew,” I said, a little heat coming back into my voice. “What was all that about with your mother? Why did she call me a slut? And why did she suddenly spin on a dime and treat me like a long lost friend?”

He took a deep breath. “My mother is,” he said, slowly, “… not well.”

There was so much implied in that simple sentence that the weight of it all seemed to compress on my chest. My mind started spinning, imagining all kinds of scenarios. Andrew’s mother wasn’t just “unwell,” she was a psycho. I couldn’t even begin to think about what it might be like living with such an unpredictable woman.

It reminded me just how much of a bitch I’d been to my mother, and how I’d taken her for granted all of these years. For all of my self-righteous attitude, I had just had a first-hand crash course in “you think you got it bad? You got nothing!”

“As for the reports,” he said slowly, “I couldn’t risk bringing home a bad grade, but I didn’t know what you would want to do, so I decided to give you options.”

I had a flash of Andrew bringing home a bad grade to his father, and found myself shuddering at the thought. Andrew hadn’t done the reports out of a sense of overachievement, or even out of distrust that I wouldn’t help, but rather out of self-preservation.

All of it, though, still left one very important question unanswered.

“Okay,” I said, thoughtfully. “But why am I here? I mean, we could have done this over Zoom, or the phone, or something.”

He looked up at that. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just…” his voice trailed off.

The silence hung in the air, and I realized he wasn’t going to complete his thought without prompting. “You just, what?” I asked, trying to read his expression.

“I don’t really have anyone to talk to,” he finally confessed, but he looked like he was about to say something and changed his mind at the very last second. “We just moved here, and I don’t know anyone here. It’s so late in the school year that everyone’s got their friends. It’s hard to break into that.”

I swallowed. I hadn’t thought of that. “So why me?” I asked, not sure that I wanted to know the answer to the question.

“Well, you seemed nice, but you didn’t look like you belonged to any one clique or another,” he said. “I thought maybe you were in the same situation, a new kid maybe.”

All of this made sense. I was something of a lone wolf in the school – I really didn’t like anybody. I kept to myself, not wanting to run afoul of the bullies like Simone (yeah, like that was working for me) and not fitting into any other group. I often found myself with more in common with the teachers than the students.

“Actually,” I said, “I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“Really?” he asked. “I thought you might be a military brat like me.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I just don’t like anyone at school.”

That caused him to smile. “What, not even Simone?” he teased.

I frowned. “What did you hear?” I asked.

A big grin broke out on his face, despite himself. “Well, not much,” he admitted. “But anyone who can get the entire school to believe in something as ridiculous as a ‘vaginal placebo’ has got to be your absolute BFF!”

I punched him in the arm, my frown deepening, but it was playful. “Ow, hey!” he said, laughing.

Just like that, the ice had broken. When he smiled, his face completely changed. In school, and when we were in front of his parents, the guarded expression made him unapproachable, a stoic figure who was struggling with his situation. When he smiled, and then laughed, he seemed to brighten up the room a little. I couldn’t help but wonder if he might be able to break the ice with some other people if he smiled while in school, too.

Then I realized that it wouldn’t work. Andrew’s parents were invasive. He couldn’t safely bring people back to his house – oh god, what would his mother do? – and he couldn’t very well go out on his own for fear of the Spanish Inquisition from his father upon his return.

It was at that moment that it dawned on me just how much of a risk he had taken by inviting me over to his house. He was trapped, and he was desperately trying to reach out, even going so far as to be willing to risk me seeing his parents. Of course, everything had gone wrong. Both of them were an embarrassment, and there was nothing that he could do about it. He had gambled, and lost.

I tried to think of anyone else I knew at school and how they would have reacted. Some probably would have run crying, most would have likely gotten into a shouting match. Some, like me, may have actually made it past the gauntlet, but then reamed Andrew out about it. He certainly seemed prepared to hear that from me. I realized that had it been anyone else, he would not have gotten as understanding a visitor.

I began to think about what would happen when they returned. I wanted to ask him, but I didn’t dare. He was in a good mood now, and had opened up to me a little. I was afraid that if I asked, he would close up again.

“Okay,” I said. “So tell me about these reports. You know we only have to do one report, right?”

“Yeah, but like I said, I wasn’t sure which direction you’d like to go,” he said. “I’d narrowed it down to two people, but couldn’t decide. Plus, I thought you might like to have a say in the matter.”

I looked at the screen. At the top of the page were the words, “Women Who Changed The World” and underneath there was a name: Messalina. On the other page, there was the same title, but with a different name: Catherine The Great.

“What, no ‘Kim Kardashian?'” I joked.

He laughed, remembering how Heather – one of Simone’s harpies – had tried to persuade Mrs. Villanova to break the rule of “no one who has died after 1900” didn’t apply, because the celebrity hadn’t died yet.

“I’m just glad she’s not a nerd,” he said. “Otherwise she’d probably pick Amanda from Highlander. Who knows what she’d think of doing an immortal.”

I stared at him open-mouthed. “You know Highlander?” I squeaked.

He nodded. “There can..”

“…be only one!” I finished with him.

“I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” he intoned, with an affected seriousness.

“Oh, Duncan!” I stood up and swooned, and fell into his lap. “You know it’s just one little job!”

“Amanda,” he warned, but the goofy grin on his face told me he was loving playing along.

I wiggled. “All we have to do is steal one, teeny-tiny diamond,” I said in my best Elizabeth Gracen impression. “Then I’m out. I promise.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and tried my best to be as flirtatious as my fictional counterpart. To my surprise, I felt a slight movement under my butt.

Before I could stop myself, I brought my hand to my mouth in mock surprise. “Why Duncan! Is that a katana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Um,” Andrew stammered. It took a moment for it to dawn on me that Andrew really was “happy” to see me. I realized that I had probably just embarrassed him even more. “I, um…”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” I said, my playfulness returning down to earth. I got off him, but realized that I didn’t really want to get off him.

Yeah, you want to get him off, Team Shutupandfuckme piped up.

Oh for fuck’s sake, Team Morality despaired.

I decided to change the subject. “So, um, who are these people?” I asked, looking at the screen.

Andrew bent forwards, trying to nonchalantly hide an erection that must have been forming in his shorts. “So, you’ve heard of Catherine the Great, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. She fucked a horse and died,” I said.

“Well, that’s the rumor, yeah,” he said. “But that’s not what exactly happened. She had a lot of enemies, and they started spreading that rumor after she died. So, it’s really just an urban legend. In fact, there were a lot of urban legends spread about her, like having a room where all the furniture was shaped like penises.”

I giggled, imagining my own desire for penis-shaped inanimate objects. Could I fuck a table leg? After what I did this past week, I probably could.

“But she did like sex. A lot,” he said. “She apparently had sex tasters. Just like when you had food tasters to see if food was poisoned, she had “sex tasters” where she had women have sex with men to make sure they were good enough lovers for her.

“But the really cool thing about her was that she used that sexuality to become Empress, even overthrowing her husband, making him sign over his throne to her, and having him killed,” he said, starting to get into the story.

“Wow,” I said. “I had no idea. She sounds like an amazing person to do for the report. So who’s this other chick?”

A broad grin stretched out his face. He looked so cute.

“Oh, if you think she is badass, just wait until you hear about Messalina,” he said. “She makes Catherine ‘the Great’ look like “Catherine The Just Mildly Ok.'”

Andrew began to tell me about Messalina, about how she was related to Caligula in Rome, and was married to the Emperor Claudius until she was executed for trying to kill him.

“Here, why don’t you read what I’ve got, and tell me what you think,” he said, indicating the screen. I did, and he re-read his words next to me as I saw them for the first time.

Messalina was absolutely fascinating. Andrew wrote in lurid detail about how she used her beauty to gain political favors, along with her sexuality. A true nymphomaniac, she had sex with multiple men while married to the Emperor Claudius, even going so far as to have a competition with the best Roman prostitute, Scylla, as to who could please the most men in a 24-hour period. During the competition, she beat out Scylla by sleeping with 25 men, where Scylla could only do 24.

“Is this true?” I asked, incredulous. I wondered how I would fare in such a competition. I looked over at him, and saw that he was hunched over again. Before I could stop myself, I accidentally licked my lips.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, trying to drape his t-shirt over his lap. “Keep reading.”

I did, and got to the point where she had her own brothel, formed under an assumed name, and forced many upper-class women to work as prostitutes whom she blackmailed. She would use the brothel to gain even more political clout when prominent Romans would reveal their secrets.

Ultimately, Messalina’s undoing was to go so far as to marry a lover while Claudius left Rome to oversee a construction project. Even that brazen behavior, completely with a lavish and expensive wedding party, didn’t push Claudius over the brink. But, in order for him to save face, his advisors ordered Messalina to commit suicide.

I had to admit, Andrew was a decent writer. He had described Messalina’s activities in just enough detail to border on inappropriateness, while still taking on a somewhat academic tone. It was a great balancing act, but with the sexual high I’d been on for the past week or so, it was also quite arousing.

After reading the report, I sat back and looked at Andrew. His face was a little flush too, and he was breathing in long, slow, ragged breaths.

“Wow,” I said again. “That was hot.”

He turned to look at me. “Not too much, you think?”

I couldn’t help myself, I stared down at his lap, which he covered with his hands. I looked at his face, and licked my lips again. “Just right,” I said.

My body moved on autopilot, and I swung my leg over his lap and sat down, feeling his erection come into direct contact with my crotch. There were four layers of clothing between us, assuming he was wearing underwear, but the rounded form of hiscompressed cock pressed up against my pussy through my sweats.

“Shannon?” he said, out of surprise.

“Shut up,” I said, and he did.

Yes! Finally! Fuck him! Team Shutupandfuckme shouted in my brain. Go for the real thing!

I kissed him, and felt his mouth open to receive my tongue. In my head, I replayed Punk Girl attacking my father in the video, and realized that I was going to have to be the one to take the lead here. I couldn’t be as aggressive as she was, or else I would scare him off. After all, she would probably had scared the living hell out of most people, and my father had been expecting to have sex with her at the time.

Instinctively, I began to grind against him, feeling that beautiful stick between my legs. Of course, I had no idea how beautiful it was, yet, but it certainly felt good against my pussy.

Poor Andrew had no idea what to do. I could tell he was inexperienced, and wasn’t sure where to put his hands. Thinking back to what happened with Tracy, I felt I could relate. Once again, I knew I had to channel my inner Punk Girl and be a force of nature.

For some reason, my dream about walking through the halls wearing nothing but a leather vest flickered back into life. I thought about how everyone wanted me, how they would do what I say just because I said so.

“Take off my shirt,” I commanded, and he blinked.

It took him a moment to register what I had said, but then he finally searched for the hem of my shirt and started to pull upwards. I raised my arms up, and it came off in a flutter.

He stared at my chest and stomach, and I felt a quick rush of fear that he would find my tiny breasts unappealing. I almost asked for my t-shirt back, but I knew I had to break through my own personal barriers.

Just wait, Team SUAFM cautioned. You’ll see.

“Now my bra,” I said, pressing onward. There was no room for discussion. He reached behind me and tried to undo the clasp, but was failing miserably. I could feel his fingers flailing about my back, trying to gain purchase on the hooks.

I held his face in my hands. “Have you ever done this before?” I asked.

He looked at me in shame, and slowly shook his head. I leaned forward, and put my lips right next to his ear. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “Me neither.”

I reached down between us, and took ahold of his dick through his shorts. He gasped, and froze.

“Don’t stop,” I encouraged him. “Take your time. I’ll just do this while I wait.”

I started stroking his cock through the fabric, and he returned to trying to undo my bra. He certainly didn’t improve his dexterity while I did it, but it was certainly much more fun while I waited.
His cock fit in my hand quite well, but I was a bit stunned at how small it felt. Of course, after a week of dealing with nothing but the monstrosity that was my father’s cock and the realistic dildo, what did I expect?

Very few men are built like your father, Tracy had said. Most men are a lot smaller.

Well, here you go. Proof positive of what she had been telling me.

Even so, his cock felt good. It throbbed in my hand, and I could feel the warmth even through his shorts. I started to think about how Tracy had gushed about having real cock inside her, and I felt like I was starting to get a clue.

I felt a hook release on the clasp, and smiled to myself. I took his earlobe in my mouth and started to suck. He gasped and whimpered, and I felt his cock jump a little.

Oh, so he likes that too! I took a mental note.

The second hook released, and I felt the bra straps fall forward. I leaned back and left the bra fall of my chest and onto his.

There. It was happening, finally. I was showing off my tits to a guy for the first time in my life with the intent of being sexual. Every fantasy I had ever had usually wound up with me convinced that they would be unappealing, unattractive.

Inwardly, I was stunned at just how much Andrew seemed to like them. He swallowed, and licked his lips, looking from one nipple to the other. I could see he wanted to taste me, he was practically drooling.

“Suck on them,” I heard my voice say without my permission. I felt like Team Shutupandfuckme was taking over more and more often, and I loved that I didn’t have to do anything about it. I arched my back, and offered him my chest.

His hand snaked around to my back to support me, and his lips attached themselves to my left nipple. His other hand reached for my right, and he wrapped his palm around the breast. In his hands, I felt so tiny. I mean, I was tiny, but the way he held me gave me a sense of security that was difficult to describe.

It was completely different than Tracy. She had been experienced, for one thing, and had traced her hands across my breasts in an expression of a caress. She was touching me as if she would touch herself, exploring my body like a soft blanket.

Andrew’s approach was none of those things. He didn’t know what he was doing – not like Tracy – but he knew what he wanted. His hands were rougher, the way you’d expect from a man – even a man of only eighteen – and his grip was tighter. But the way he held me told me that he wanted me in no uncertain terms.

I rewarded him with a steady stroke of his cock with my hand. I could feel his pelvis respond, pushing up against me to counter my rhythmic strokes.

“Don’t make the other one jealous,” I said. He looked up at me, confused. I indicated my other nipple with a nod and a grin, and a look of comprehension dawned on his face. He shifted his weight, and the other nipple slipped between his lips.

Andrew’s sucking, too, was far more raw than Tracy’s. It was like denim compared to silk, but I felt more comfortable in denim anyway, so there was that.

The familiar rush began to build inside of me, and I knew that I didn’t want him to stop, so I told him so.

“I’m close,” I grunted.

Then, damn him, he stopped! “Really?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes, dammit!” I snapped, and pulled his head back to my chest. “Don’t stop!”

He resumed sucking on my nipple, even harder this time, and I felt a twinge of pain at his powerful vacuum on my tit. I almost told him to back off a little, but then I began to realize that there was something else there.

A knife edge, Tracy’s voice echoed in my head. Ride it for as long as you can, but don’t allow it to cut.

“Just like that,” I gasped, changing my mind. This was an opportunity to explore that pleasure and pain moment. “Please… just like that.”

Andrew flipped his tongue across my nipple, never losing the tight seal, and there was a visceral electric charge between my chest and my pussy. I pulled his cock against the crotch of my sweats, which had better give than the jeans I normally wore, and before I knew it was I was humping him violently.

“Oh god,” I gasped. “I’m…”

I never got the word out, but it wasn’t necessary. My orgasm flushed through my body and I held onto his head until it began to subside, which wasn’t before a full minute had passed.

I was covered in sweat, every pore tingling with excitement and power. I had just told Andrew to make me come, and he did. I had just had my first ever orgasm with a boy, and from him sucking my tits no less. Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever been able to think that my pathetic bulbs would be given so much attention – and pleasure – by a man.

“Shannon?”

“Mmm hmmm?” I said, a warm content purring in my voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding hesitant. “I don’t want you to stop, but it’s starting to chafe.”

I looked down, and realized that I had never let go of his cock. I was still grabbing onto it like it was a safety handle, my hips still grinding against it absent-mindedly.

“Ooops!” I said, immediately apologetic. Then, a thought crossed my mind. I smiled coyly, and said, “Well, we better see how much damage I did!”

I stood up, and swung my leg back over him. He watched me, once again unsure of what to do with his hands. I got on my knees, and leaned over his lap.

“Well, obviously,” I said, “I can’t see anything like this.”

Slowly, I pulled up his t-shirt to reveal the tent in his shorts. I looked up at him to see that he was watching me intently, almost as if he thought I was going to stop at any moment and reveal that it was all a big prank.

I put my fingernails under his waistband and started to pull it away from his body. As soon as my fingers slipped under the elastic, his stomach tightened and he sucked air in through his teeth. His reaction teased me of better noises to come.

Heat and moisture were the first things I felt on my fingertips, and then I felt the flesh of a man’s cock brush up against them. I almost jumped at the sensation, my very first contact with a live penis in the flesh.

The first thing I felt was its incongruous shape and weight to the rest of Andrew’s body. It moved differently than any thing I had ever seen on the human body before. It bounced as soon as I touched it, and I tried to figure out what it reminded me of. It wasn’t exactly like a thick finger or a thumb, which is kind of what I was expecting in my naivete. Compared to those digits, this seemed to have more sentience.

I was fascinated.

I felt an urge to tease myself just a bit longer, though. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, the very first time that I would ever touch a man’s dick, and I wanted to savor the moment.

Are you recording this? Team Morality asked.

Already in progress, Team Shutupandfuckme said. And welcome to the party!

I kept my hand inside his shorts, sliding my fingers around his shaft. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but one thing for certain was that I definitely did expect it to be so hot.

I mean, the temperature of his cock was shocking. In one quick moment, I began to understand what Tracy was telling me about the real thing. It wasn’t just about it being warm, but unlike the dildo it reacted to me. To me.

It’s almost impossible to describe the emotions that surged through me at that moment. I relished his arousal, knowing that he wanted me to touch him, to explore him. His cock flexed and pressed back against my hand, my fingers curling around the shaft in a firm grip. My thumb slide across the very tip of his head, and he thrust his hips forward in an uncontrollable reaction.

A smile crossed my face of pure excitement. I was doing this to him, and the control over his body was absolutely intoxicating. I could do anything to Andrew, and he wanted me to do it.

My curiosity got the best of me, and I suddenly needed to see it for myself. I pulled down his shorts, and it popped into view.

I’m not sure what I expected for my first time, but after a week of seeing nothing but my father’s cock, this wasn’t it. It wasn’t just that it was smaller, but it had a slightly upward curve that my father’s didn’t have.

Like Andrew, it was cute.

Fascinated, I thought about how I had struggled with my father’s girth and yet had still managed to take that dildo all the way inside my pussy, as well as pretty far inside my mouth. There was no comparison here. I bet I could…

Before I knew it, I had stuffed Andrew’s cock all the way in my mouth to the root. I could feel it hit the back of my throat, but for some reason it didn’t trigger my gag reflex. Andrew’s hands flew to the back of my head in surprise, and if I could I would have smiled at his reaction. I felt an amazing amount of power over Andrew, and I wanted more.

I couldn’t believe how easy it was to blow Andrew. His cock – even with the slight bend – didn’t stretch my mouth like the dildo had, and I had so much room to work with that I could use my tongue with much more freedom.

It turned out that I liked this so much more than sucking on the dildo, which I wasn’t really expecting. I had thought that it wouldn’t be all that different, to be honest, but I was so, so wrong.

Andrew’s cock seemed to reach for me. It felt like it was reacting to everything that I was doing, almost like it had a life of its own. I had heard people joke about how men’s penises were almost like a separate being, and as I felt it shift and change and grow and pulse in my mouth I was beginning to see why.

“You taste so good,” I said, more to myself than to Andrew.

Andrew swallowed. “Thank you,” he said, but it sounded almost like a question.

He had recently showered, and even though there was the remaining smell of shower gel and cleanliness, Andrew’s natural scent was beginning to emerge in how he tasted and smelled. He smelled very different than Tracy had, more masculine.

Well, duh!

I found myself enjoying the sensations more than I thought I would. His taste, his texture, the way he smelled and how he reacted. All of those things were assaulting my senses and demanding my attention. It almost felt overwhelming.

Oh my, his reaction was everything, though. He sucked in his breath when I deep throated him, and huffed as I kept him there and tried to take in even more air. He only exhaled when I came up off of him. Each time I took him in, it seemed like he made a different sound. He seemed to have an entire orchestra of whimpers.

I pursed my lips and pressed down on this cock head and slowly started to descend, and he let out another sexy little whimper, probably the sexiest yet. The flare of the head pushed my lips apart, but I kept them tightly constrained to keep a tight seal as I lowered my mouth down his shaft. The helmet finally popped behind my lips, and they enclosed around the very top of his shaft.

Andrew’s eyes flew to his head. “Oh my god!” he exclaimed.

I wanted to smile, but was afraid of losing the grip that I had with my lips. Thick veins pushed at my tongue as I slowly descended, riding over each bump and crevice. His cock, understandably compressed as he was sitting down, didn’t leave me with far to go, though, and all too soon I found my nose pressed into his hip.

The angle of Andrew’s posture was beginning to be a problem, and his shorts were still bunched up and getting in the way. I started tugging them down with him buried in my mouth, so he lifted his hips off his chair and the shorts and underwear slipped off down to his ankles. I thought I might choke on his dick as he did so, but he was smooth enough in his awkward gestures so that it didn’t happen. I was quite proud of myself for keeping him secure in my mouth.

For some reason that I didn’t quite understand, Andrew’s dick seemed to grow a bit longer now that he was no longer in his shorts. His balls fell free, and were a stark contrast to his cock that was covered in my saliva.

I remembered how Punk Girl had attacked my father’s cock in the video, and before I knew it I was doing the same thing. I cupped his balls in my hand, and stuffed him back in my mouth. I still had no problem deep-throating him, though, and was able to snake one hand up his chest and stick two fingers in his mouth without breaking my stride.

Andrew sucked on my fingers, and I felt a surprising tingle all the way down my arm as he did. I opened my eyes – not realizing that I had closed them – to watch him as he grabbed my wrist with both hands and started to kiss, lick, and suck my fingers with gusto. It was so hot!

It reminded me that I was still in the middle of my own oral fixation. I pulled off his cock and stared at it in wonder. In its own way, it was harder than the dildo and bouncing with each of Andrew’s heartbeats. It wanted me (me!) and it seemed to reach for me, trying to find my mouth once more.

Of course, I obliged. Once more I felt the heat radiating from his cock, and imagined his reddened helmet sliding down my throat while I massaged it with my cheeks, lips and tongue.

Andrew moaned, a sound that was far deeper than Tracy’s breathy gasps last night (last night! Was it only last night?!). “Oh god, Shannon,” he gasped. “I don’t know how long I’m gonna last!”

As if on cue, his cock got even harder and I could feel his balls start to contract in my hand. I didn’t know what any of this meant, but I decided to take him at his word. I lifted my head off his cock, and saw that there was a distinct look of disappointment and resignation on his face. He had really, really wanted to come in my mouth.

I was torn, though. Surprisingly, I don’t think I would have been upset if he had finished in my mouth, but I just felt as if I wasn’t done yet. Plus, somewhere in the back of my mind I wanted to see him come.

No, that’s not quite right. I wanted to see him come all over my tits.

It’s not something that I could explain to myself, much less Andrew. It was equal parts desire and need. There was something about him letting go, releasing all of that built-up pressure, and doing it over my tits – my tits, my tiny insignifant tits – that pushed it over the limit for me.

I stood up, and reached for the elastic on the waistband of my sweatpants. “Don’t worry, Andrew,” I said softly. “I know what I’m doing.”

He swallowed, his eyes flicking back and forth between my eyes and my hands on my waistband. “I believe you,” he said.

I was about to drop my sweats when I realized that I still had my rather un-sexy underwear on. I had been completely dressed down, and my minds eye saw me from the outside. I began to wonder if it would kill his mood. It had never dawned on me that I would ever find a reason to wear a thong on purpose. My mother’s promises of there being a time when I’d find it useful slingshotted back into my consciousness.

There had never been a time when I would imagine myself in a situation where I would even think about why a thong would be useful or important. Suddenly, though, I desperately wanted to see his reaction to my ass in a thong. There was nothing I could do about it now, but I couldn’t help but think that it was a missed opportunity.

Oh well, next time.

Will there be a next time?

I honestly had no idea.

Team Morality tried to pipe up, deciding it had had enough of the party. He’s going to use you and dump you, you know.

Team SUAFM was having none of it. Fuck that, you are the one who started this. What are you, some kind of cock-tease? No, of course not!

He’s going to tell everyone in school, Team Morality tried a different tack. Everyone will know you’re a slut.

He doesn’t know anyone at school, dumbass, Team SUAFM was unimpressed. And everyone thinks you have ‘Vaginal Placebo’ anyway, so what the fuck are you worried about?

Andrew suddenly took matters in his own hands, taking me by surprise. He helped me lower my sweats and underwear to my thighs, and I felt him bend me over his desk. In a remarkably quick movement, I felt his tongue dive into my pussy from behind.

I heard a moan, and it was a full moment before I realized that it was coming from me. My eyes had rolled up into my head, but everything was so overwhelming that vision was the last sensation I could focus on.

My elbows just barely propped me up on Andrew’s desk as he ate me out from behind. What he lacked in experience and technique – which wasn’t much if I’m honest – he made up for in eagerness and enthusiasm, which was everything.

He wanted me. With Tracy, I had a constant worry about whether or not she was doing it because it was part of her routine, or if it was because she really found me enticing and wanted to do it. With Andrew, there was no question about it. His enthusiasm made up for all of his inexperience. I made up my mind right then and there – I would happily take enthusiasm over experience any day of the week.

“You have the most beautiful…” he began, and then stopped. He was unsure about whether or not he would ruin the moment if he said the wrong word.

“Pussy,” I finished for him. “Thank you. Now keep licking me!”

He didn’t need to be told more than once. In a heartbeat, I felt his tongue exploring my pussy lips and lapping at me. His hands ran up the back of my thighs and held my hips in place as he attacked my nether lips, trying to dig the tip of his tongue deeper into my hole.

I gasped, enjoying his love for tasting me as much as his actual ability. I was still a little sore, though I had recovered quite a bit from my earlier attempt at penetrating myself with the dildo.

He’s kissing it and making it feel all better! I thought to myself, and had to stifle a giggle.

Andrew hadn’t noticed anything, and kept working on my pussy. I looked back over my shoulder, hoping to watch him in the act, but then he grabbed onto my ass (my bubble butt!) and spread my cheeks wider.

I had no idea what he was doing, but I knew I liked it. I was spread wide open for him, and he was exploring me for everything I was worth. I was completely fine with him doing that for as long as he wanted. My entire lower section felt ravaged as he held me in place. There wasn’t anywhere interesting to look with him behind me, so I just closed my eyes and relished the experience, trying to memorize every tiny detail.

Without warning, Andrew’s hands squeezed my ass tightly. They felt huge, covering all of my bottom and holding me square in his sights. Before I knew it, I felt a very long lick from my clit back through my pussy lips, across my taint, and dipped into my asshole.

“Yes,” I slurred incoherently, before I had a chance to even decide for myself whether I wanted him to do it. Now, though, I knew. Once he had his tongue probing my asshole, I couldn’t stop him even if I wanted to. All I wanted was for him to wiggle that organ inside my ass. I didn’t even know that so much pleasure could come from that part of my body.

I heard him moan into my ass, the vibrations of his voice following across his tongue. I dropped my head onto my forearms, and tried to find my breath. “Andrew, what are you doing to me?” I gasped.

“Good things, I hope,” he said.

“The best,” I gasped.

“You taste so good,” he said. “I could do that for hours.”

I stood up in response, and pushed him back on the chair. He looked at me, confused, thinking that he had said something wrong. When I kicked off my sweats and straddled him again, though, it was clear that I was very happy with what he had been doing.
Looking down at his cock in my hand once more, I realized that I was about to push my boundaries yet again. I gripped it in my hand, and felt it swell and pulse against my fingers and my palm. It was truly alive, and everything that Tracy had been talking about began to make sense.

I had never been so close to a penis before, let alone an erect one so near my pussy. I knew what I was going to do – had to do – but I had to lay some ground rules first.

“I’m going to fuck you, Andrew,” I said, calmly. His eyes widened at my candor. “I’m going to fuck you hard and fast.”

I moved closer to him, and pressed his shaft against my lips. I looked down and saw the purple head against my lily white skin, staring back up at me. “But I’m not on the pill, and I don’t want to have a baby right now. So you can’t come inside me, do you understand?”

He gulped, and nodded. I began stroking him, aiming him at my belly button. “But that’s okay, because you’re going to fuck me for as long as you can stand it,” I said, and squeezed for emphasis. “Because I want to watch you come all over me. I bet that if you come over my tits that I can come too. Do you want to try?”

He nodded again. “I’d love to see that,” he said. His hips were reflexively rocking back and forth in time with my hand motions. His excitement was winding me up like a top, pushing me onward.

I leaned back, and looked down at his cock once more. I rotated my hips just a little, so that I could aim his head right at my pussy. Rubbing the head through my lips, I got him nice and wet. For one brief moment I thought he was going to lose it right there watching me masturbate using his dick as a toy, but the moment passed.

I had no idea whether or not I could come if he came on my tits, but what the hell? Why not give it a shot?

The head of his cock began to catch at my opening, and finally I had had enough teasing and felt him start to push me apart. The crown of his head slipped inside, and it felt a bit odd. After having had the extra large dildo inside me, I guess I had been expecting a much greater stretch. As it was, it felt good, but nowhere near as filling or complete as with the dildo.

Once again Tracy’s words echoed in my head. I’ve spent the last twenty years looking for that feeling.

Unlike the dildo, though, Andrew’s cock moved with me, and the texture was much, much more enjoyable. Also unlike the dildo, Andrew gave me tremendous satisfaction to watch him react to penetrating me. His noises were completely unexpected, and told me just how much he was enjoying himself. No, enjoying me.

Andrew’s head pushed past my opening, and even though he wasn’t as big as my father’s cock, it felt exquisite. There was a rush of sensation as the initial penetration took all my focus and sensation, my pussy welcoming him into my body inch after inch. The soreness from earlier was all but gone, replaced by the incredulous realization that I was getting fucked for the very first time.

As I slid down onto him, there was a heat that came with his dick. It wasn’t until that moment that I suddenly realized how cold the dildo had been, and in comparison Andrew’s cock felt like touching a hot stove. It soothed my insides, a warming sensation flowing outward from his penis and triggering my pussy to release equally potent juices. Bringing him further into my cunt was as natural as breathing.

Which, as it turned out, I seemed to be forgetting to do.

All too quickly I found myself sitting on the root of his shaft. Sure, I knew he was about half as long as the dildo, but it still caught me by surprise how quickly he had bottomed out. It still felt good, and the experience overall was gratifying, but I could tell there was definitely something missing.

A lot missing.

Like five or more inches and a lot of girth.

Andrew was in heaven, though, and that made me feel good too. After all my masturbation sessions, though, I had gotten used to a certain… expectation. I don’t know what it was that I expected, exactly, but whatever it was its absence was obvious. Feeling his cock move in unpredictable ways was nice.

I put my arms around Andrew’s neck, and started grinding myself back and forth, rather than trying to fuck straight up and down. There… there it was. That helped. I got to feel him move in all three dimensions, including sliding across my G-spot.

“Oh god, Shannon, you feel amazing!” he groaned. It was like music to my ears. “I’ve… I’ve never felt anything so good!”

Andrew’s hands were once more on my ass, kneading and squeezing it in rhythm with my movements. He encouraged me with each thrust, and I felt his hands grab at me in ever-increasing strength. His sense of urgency, of holding me in place, brought with it an enjoyment that completely caught me off guard.

Unlike the dildo, having a real, live man holding onto me and fucking me meant that I had even more sensations to experience. The dildo couldn’t hold my ass or thrust into me on its own, the dildo couldn’t moan because I was awesome, and the dildo couldn’t pulse and throb and surprise me with its own movements.

Also unlike the dildo, though, having a real, live man inside me meant that I didn’t have the luxury of fucking it forever without fear of it erupting inside of me. I wanted to let loose, to thrash about over his dick, but the look on his face told me that he was barely holding on.

I was close, though. I didn’t feel any of that pain/pleasure threshold that Tracy had been talking about, but only because Andrew wasn’t big enough for that. I still had a nice, hard cock in my cunt though, but I couldn’t allow myself to completely break free because I had no idea if he would be able to last.

The other thing that a dildo couldn’t do was talk to me. Then again, I hadn’t been doing much talking either, so I leaned in so that my mouth was right near his ear. I started nibbling on his earlobe, and I could feel his hands get an even better grip on my ass cheeks. “I love when you grab me like that,” I hissed.

“I love your ass,” he said. “It fits so perfectly in my hands.”

“My ass love your hands, too,” I whispered. “Grab me harder, Andrew.”

Hearing his name seemed to send him into overdrive. He began groping me and pulling me harder onto his dick, and I loved it. I ground down on his root, and continued moving my hips back and forth.

“Hold me tighter,” I insisted, and he did. “Fuck me like you stole me.”

The phrase made no sense, and once again Team Morality indulged in a mental eyeroll at my cheesy line. Nevertheless, I felt Andrew’s hands tighten around my waist and ass and thrust into me with even more insistence.

“Put your finger in my ass,” I heard myself say. It caught us both by surprise, I think. It seemed like I was in the right position for him to reach now, and he had done such a good job using his tongue that I didn’t think he would mind.

He didn’t mind. I felt his right hand slide even further and the next thing I knew, my ass cheeks were spread open. A tentative digit began exploring my tiny pucker, and electric shocks spread out through my lower half.

“Yes,” I moaned. “Do it.”

“I love how kinky you are,” he marveled. He had no idea.

Reflexively, I began to move my hips faster against him. His finger pressed inward, and I felt movement in the strangest place on my body. The sensation of having two objects in my body at the same time was exhilarating. It was naughty. Above all of that, though, it just felt so good.

“Yeah, just like that,” I said. “Do it just like that!”

Truthfully, it helped. It was an odd sensation, once the tip of his finger passed through my sphincter. All the hypersensitive endings seemed to be right at the entrance, and the rest of his finger just seemed to fill me up.

At the same time, I felt him shift his weight, and then his lips encircled my nipple again. All at once my arousal kicked up several notches, and I realized that there was something else that no dildo – or even Tracy – could do.

He had me. That’s the only way I could comprehend what was going on. He was in me, his fingers were in me, his hands were holding me, his mouth was sucking my nipple. I had thought that fucking the dildo meant that I had been having sex, but I had been so, so wrong. That was simply jamming a rod up my cunt.

This was all-encompassing. This involved my entire body. This was a man reacting to me in real-time. This was sex.

Each breath became a grunt, each movement became a jerk. I was getting so close, all I wanted to do was thrash about on his dick, his finger, and his mouth until I came so hard I passed out.

As I got closer, though, I felt him tense up. The last thing I wanted was for him to go off like a busted firehose in my pussy. I made a mental note to get on the pill as soon as I could.

You never know when you need to be prepared, my mother had said. Granted, she had been talking about wearing thongs at the time, but she had been right about that too.

I made up my mind that I didn’t trust myself to both have an orgasm and make sure that Andrew didn’t explode inside me. In the past, whenever I came everything around me seemed to disappear, to blank out. I couldn’t risk coming down from such a high only to find that he had done the same thing.

Even so, the poor boy was damn near agony. I thought it was best if I help him get his release, at least.

“God, you feel so good in my pussy,” I whispered intently into his ear, “and your finger in my ass.”

He moaned around my nipple. The vibration did exactly what physics was designed to do – it made my pussy spasm. “If I knew how good a lover you were,” I said, “I’d have fucked you as soon as you came to my school.

“I can’t wait to feel you come all over my chest,” I continued. “I want to watch your dick explode, want to feel your hot come splash over me.”

My words were getting to him. His breath came hot and ragged through his nose, lighting up my chest. Inside my body, I could feel his finger unable to keep a cadence, and his dick throbbed insistently.

He whimpered, and I could sense that he must be getting close. At this point, I was feeling selfish and risky. I wanted him to stay inside me for as long as he could, even if I wasn’t going to be able to come.

Sadly, it was looking like the time with my first real, live cock was coming to an end. Pun intended.

“Shannon…” he warned, and I leaned back so that I could pull his cock out of my pussy. Sitting on his lap the way I was, it pinned his hands underneath me, and locked his finger fully embedded inside my ass.

I stroked him with one hand, and reached down to cup his balls the best I could with the other. I tried to remember how Punk Girl had done it in the video, doing my best to imitate what she had done. I knew that I was going to watch that part of the video again, but the next time I did I would have first-hand knowledge of what she felt when my dad sprayed all over her chest.

“Come for me, baby,” I cooed, trying to coax him.

It didn’t take long. Andrew tried to recline, his head rocking back and his mouth open in a perverse “O” shape. I wasn’t heavy in the best of times, but my weight on his thighs prevented him from being able to move too far. His finger wiggled inside of me with no rhythm and no purpose. I wasn’t even sure he was aware of what his finger was doing. I had to suppress a giggle.

Then he stopped breathing, and I had a sudden panic that I had killed him. A heartbeat later, and I felt a rush of fluid underneath the skin of his penis against my palm. It never dawned on me that I would be able to feel him come from the outside, but I loved it. I wanted him to do it again!

I watched as his orgasm shot a length of come into the air with an incredible force. I had seen come shots in porn before – hell, that’s just about all I had seen in porn – but even by porn star measures Andrew was a record-breaker. A long, thick rope of come launched into the air, and then seemed to fall and land as a single strand across my chin, throat, and chest.

The heat from the liquid was intense, a hot fiery concoction that felt like it would burn my skin, but it lasted only for the briefest of moments. Another load erupted from his pulsing cock, and this one landed onto my nipple. Again, a molten feeling against one of my most sensitive body parts, which quickly cooled.

“Yes,” I hissed. “Just like that.”

Andrew was helpless, a complete puppet in my hands. His head rocked back, eyes squeezed tight, his mouth open in what looked like shock. I never dreamed that I could have such power and control over a man before, and I had a feeling it could become addictive.

A third and a fourth stream shot out of his cock, but shorter and with less force. Even so, there was a lot of white liquid dripping out until my hand stroking his dick looked like a glazed donut. Once again I had to suppress a giggle at my dorky thoughts.

My hand continued to stroke him, but that initial rush of come flowing through his cock didn’t repeat itself. I found myself thinking about how quickly these intense pleasures disappeared, building to a moment of a sensation – the first eruption, the first penetration, the first moments of hot come as it comes in contact with your skin – and how fleeting it was, how quickly it goes away.

In the back of my mind, I remembered Tracy’s description of the knife edge between pain and pleasure. It wasn’t until this moment that I thought that I understood what she meant. These experiences were so intense, and yet so fleeting. The peak of intensity disappeared so quickly. It was another difference between the dildo and real sex – with the dildo, I could control everything, but it was like trying to tickle yourself. You couldn’t really surprise yourself very much.

With a dildo, you have all the control, Tracy had said. In real life, you never quite know what’s going to happen next.

Of course, she was right. She always seemed right when it came to sex. Being with a real, live person was unpredictable, uncontrollable to the same degree. The physical sensations were more intense, and in a way far more… fun. They just didn’t last long enough.

Nevertheless, that wasn’t the only thing that I felt. There was something magical about feeling the weight of his come all over my chest and throat. Never in a million years did I imagine that any man would have found my breasts attractive enough, sexy enough, to come on them. I had always thought that a man would be repulsed by their insignificance, that he would lose his erection because of how un-sexy they were.

Instead, Andrew had – quite literally – showered me with his excitement. He had sucked them both, had taken them in his mouth and lavished them with attention. He had grown hard in my pussy, and then in my hand, and then he had gifted me with the knowledge that they weren’t something to be ashamed of.

My tits, my small, insignificant, traitorous tits. I had hated them, loathed them, even. My embarrassing nipples and years of shame seemed to finally come to an end. Andrew had blessed them, had shown me how desirable they could be. I felt as if he had showed me that they no longer had to be shameful, that he wanted them. He had shown me how much, by coming all over those tits.

My tits.

For all the relief I felt, it was as if he had pushed me out of one world and into another. There was no other way to describe it: I felt… baptized.

My thoughts were interrupted by Andrew lifting me off his lap and setting me onto his desk with his finger still in my ass. He shifted me so that I was at the edge of the desk, my legs spread open in a lewd unintentional invitation.

I watched with a mixture of fascination and fear as he dove into my pussy with abandon. I sucked in breath through my teeth, amazed at his stamina and libido. Weren’t boys supposed to want to go to sleep after they came?

He licked me again, this time he was able to keep eye contact. There was something about watching him watch me – it made me shudder. Once again I was confronted with unbridled lust and desire targeted at me, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I still couldn’t wrap my head around being lusted after.

“Shannon,” he said, his voice husky and hoarse. “I’ve got to taste you again. I need you to come on my face.”

There is absolutely no reason whatsoever that such brash, unsophisticated words should have had any effect on me at all. Yet, they made me shudder.

“Talk to me,” he said, and gave me a long lick. I moaned in response. “Tell me what you like, and I’ll do it.”

Well, you know I like your finger in my ass, and it’s already there, my dorky mind retorted.

“Keep fucking my ass with your finger,” I directed, and I felt his digit begin to slide in and out in short strokes. He didn’t go very deep, so the intense sensations of my ring enclosing his finger kept me on edge. “Oh yeah, just like that.”

It took me a second to be able to speak words, which was just as well because they weren’t forming very quickly. “Now take my pussy lips in your mouth and suck on it,” I said.

He did as he was told, and I realized I liked this game very much. “Hold me open with your other hand,” I instructed, and he moved his free hand to spread my pussy open.

“Not like that,” I corrected. “Like this.” I put my hand at the top of my pussy and spread the top of my cleft apart, exposing my clit even more. There was a bit of a stretching feeling, not quite painful but definitely approaching a line somewhere. It was an intense sensation, and I enjoyed it. Then it started to fade.

You ride that feeling for as long as you can, Tracy’s voice echoed once more.

Andrew adjusted his hold and replaced my hand with his. Somehow when he did it, it felt even better. Whenever I played with myself, and even more recently when I had had the dildo inside me, there had been one thing missing in the entire equation.

The anticipation.

I took stock of my situation, and realized that here I was, naked on this boy’s desk, his finger in my ass and his other hand spreading me open so that he could attack my clit with his mouth and tongue, and I was in complete control.

His eyes looked up at me, waiting for permission. He wanted this. He wanted me. I felt… powerful.

“Lick my clit,” I commanded. My voice was strong, firm, and he obeyed without hesitation. Like a greyhound waiting for the rabbit to be released so he could give chase, Andrew wasted no time taking my bud in his mouth.

I moaned, and Andrew took that as encouragement. Thank god the boy could take a hint.

“Stick your thumb in me,” I ordered. Andrew’s hand changed positions so that he could fit a finger in both orifices. My eyes rolled back in my head at the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of having my entire midsection stimulated.

Having my pussy and my ass penetrated at the same time was overwhelming. Each sensation was still new, and I couldn’t focus on which feeling I wanted to think about. My senses felt like one of those terrible movies where the computers start sparking because they’re overloaded.

And yet I wanted more.

“Now,” I said, the words coming much more difficult, “take my clit in your mouth…”

He did, and naturally found my button with his tongue. I inhaled sharply.

“Move it from side to side,” I gasped. He did exactly as he was told.

Gone was his floundering, his awkwardness. Andrew was now playing me like a Stradivarius. The orgasm faerie was about to make her appearance. The metaphor queen was working overtime.
“Keep it steady and even,” I panted. “Make it consistent, like a pendulum.”

It was getting harder to talk, harder to think. I felt Andrew working on my pelvis, but it was my entire body that was electrified.

“Suck me more. Yes! Just like that, and you’ll make me… you’ll make me…” I said, and then looked down at him once more. His eyes were locked on mine, watching everything.

The pervert in me was in heaven. Here I was, reclined on his desk, with his come still shiny across my skin, and being fucked in both holes with his hand while he held me open to give me the best head I could have ever imagined.

POW!

In a single moment, my body snapped close like a trap. My legs and torso collapsed around Andrew, holding him locked in place and keeping him from escaping. He never let up with his movements, and held on for dear life as I screamed his name and let the orgasm run its course.

Andrew kept an even cadence even through my thrashing, which just made the orgasm crest again and again in non-stop waves. There was a constant rushing sound in my ears, and my legs were quivering in a seizure. The aftershocks came in violent attacks, shaking my entire body and causing me to convulse on his desk.

Finally, I had to breathe, and took in a massive breath and collapsed back on his desk. “Please,” I said. “No more… too sensitive.”

Andrew slowed what he was doing, and then stood up with his hand still inside me. He had a pleased expression on his face. I looked at him, quizzically.

“I just want to keep this picture of you in my head forever,” he said, grinning. “You are the sexiest thing I have ever seen.”

He watched me like that, an expression of pride and accomplishment mixed into pure attraction. There was no mistaking how much he wanted me, and how happy he was to have had me. With his fingers moving in small motions in my pussy and ass, I felt no desire to cover up – a realization that surprised me. I was completely okay with him looking at his handiwork while I brought my body back down to earth.

With an obvious disappointment in the need to do so, he slowly withdrew his fingers from my body. I got the feeling that he would have been perfectly happy to keep them inside me for hours. I had grown accustomed to them, too, and the vacuum they left was just as physical a presence as they had been.

Andrew’s words rattled around in my head. No boy had ever called me sexy before. Hell, no boy had ever looked at me before.Now that we had both had our orgasms and there was nothing left inside me, I felt overwhelmed with a feeling of loss.

A flash of the phone conversation with Tracy came back and haunted me. She had attacked me after we had both come, and I felt a surge of panic that Andrew would do the same thing. Would he tell me that I needed to get better, too?

The sudden paranoia caught me completely by surprise. Up until that point, everything had been wonderful. My libido was satisfied, and my sexual hunger had abated a bit. I had finally lost my virginity, and had loved every second of it.

Until now.

Andrew’s expression slowly changed from a broad grin into a mask of concern. There must have been something on my face that he was able to read that I wasn’t able to hide. He opened his mouth to say something, but I found myself lunging at him into a huge hug.

“Thank you for being such a wonderful lover,” I said spontaneously. I had originally said it to stop him from saying anything at all, but found that I actually meant it. I kissed him on the cheek.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Oh, I am so, so fine,” I said, trying to make my voice sound like I meant it.

I did not mean it.

All the the confidence I had felt just moments before, all of the bravado, had dissipated in a cloud of self-doubt. At any moment I thought he was going to turn on me, just like Tracy had.

Fuck you, Tracy! What have you done to me?

A tickle started to form in my nose, and I could feel my eyes begin to water. No, not now! Don’t start crying, for the love of Christ!

All of a sudden I felt a pressing need to call Tracy and talk to her. Apologize for… something. Here I was, completely naked and dripping in sweat and Andrew’s come, holding onto the boy with his soft dick (now it really did look tiny) hanging lifelessly between his legs. All of this, and I was consumed with a need to call her, talk to her.

I needed her to tell me everything was okay, that it was going to be okay.

I pulled back from Andrew, and realized that I had just transferred copious amounts of semen onto his t-shirt. Looking around, I felt a sudden need to take a long, hot shower.

“I need to clean up,” I said.

Andrew told me where the bathroom was, so I gathered my clothes and excused myself. It felt absolutely bizarre walking through Andrew’s museum-quality house buck naked, come dripping down my chin, chest, and stomach.

I felt so naughty and perverted. I loved it. I imagined the heart attack the pearl-clutching Cassandra would suffer if she knew I was parading about her perfect home in such a state.

When I was finally able to look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I saw that I was a wreck. A freshly fucked, disheveled, wanton slut. Just like Andrew’s mom had called me.

Team Morality tutted at me. Team Shutupandfuckme wanted a high-five.

I managed to clean myself off with a washcloth, cleaning my sweat and his come from my face, neck and torso. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do for the time being. I got dressed and returned to Andrew’s bedroom.

He looked uncomfortable. “Listen, Shannon,” he said, not sure how to say what he had to say. I braced myself.

“My parents will be home soon, and…” his voice trailed off. I breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going to tell me I was a lousy lay, or ugly, or that he did what he did despite the fact that I wasn’t good at sex.

He was, however, deathly afraid of his parents.

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked, finishing his sentence. He was talking to me like normal, like we had been lovers for ages instead of just really meeting this very night.

“Depends on what it is,” I said, cautiously.

He took off his t-shirt. “Could you, um, take this home and wash this for me?”

I looked at him as if he had seven heads. “You want me to do what now?” I challenged.

“I’m sorry to ask,” he said, looking down at the shirt. “But, um, my mom will check my laundry to see if I’ve, um…”

“Had sex?” I finished for him.

“That too,” he said, flatly.

“Oh,” I said. Then, “Oh.”

I suddenly realized why Andrew had come so much and in such an explosive fashion. He had been holding it in for god-knows-how-long, because his mother actually checked to see if he’d been “behaving himself.” I suddenly was very grateful for a mother who only was a little bit snoopy.

I also felt guilty once more for how I treated her when I left the house. Compared to Andrew’s mother, she was a saint.

“Your mother is an absolute saint. She’s beautiful, friendly, and would give everything for the people she loves,” my father had said.

Fuck. Now I really did feel guilty as hell.

I took the t-shirt, folded it over, and put it into my bag. He had pulled up his shorts once more, and I felt a little sad that I couldn’t see his cute little penis any longer. Standing there shirtless, he didn’t have the perfect body – but then again neither did I.

Now that the passion had started to wear off, both of us were starting to get lost in our own thoughts. Andrew with his parents, and me with thoughts about the way I treated my mother and this bizarre, pressing need to talk with Tracy. I had no idea what it was that I needed to talk about, just that I felt an ache that only her comfort would be able to give.

I threw my arms around Andrew’s neck, and kissed him passionately. It suddenly occurred to me that this was our first actual kiss-for-the-sake-of-kissing. He kissed me back, and I could feel more than just physical attraction from him. It was hard to place, but I got the feeling that he actually liked me. Sure, he had fucked me, but since when was that a prerequisite for actually liking someone?

When I broke the kiss, I licked my lips. “I suppose I better go before they get back,” I said.

He sighed, and nodded. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” he said. I looked at him and searched his eyes, but it looked like he meant it.

I couldn’t help myself. I reached down and cupped his junk. “Me too,” I said. He pushed his pelvis into my hand, and I got a really good feel. I sighed, and slipped my clothes back on, kissed him again, and left.

Back in my car, I replayed the evening in my head. I was incredibly grateful that he hadn’t come inside me, but I couldn’t shake the desire for him to have done so. Now that I had watched him spray me with his come, I could only imagine what it must feel like inside my womb. I found that I really wanted that to happen, someday.

At the moment, though, my other insecurities were eating me alive. This had been a good night, a very good night even, but I had thought that the phone sex with Tracy had been good too. Then she had lashed out.

Self-doubt was driving me crazy, and by the time I was halfway home I had nearly convinced myself that Andrew was only humoring me, only playing with me. Sure, he had come, but Tracy had come. Sure, he seemed like he had enjoyed himself, but then again so had Tracy.

Maybe you can get better.

Well, of course you can get better. But Tracy had been unhappy with me, obviously. I had no idea why at the time, so could this be the same thing with Andrew?

What about Andrew? What did this mean? Were we together, now? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies?

Did I even want something like that? I thought about him and his relationship with his parents. From the little I saw, I had seen enough. Poor Andrew was trapped between an overbearing military father and a psycho mother. No friends, no one to talk with. Keeping everything bottled up.

Until I shook it and made him pop! Team SUAFM joked.

My heart went out to him. His situation made my crisis of the day look tame by comparison, though I couldn’t imagine him ever wanting to fuck his mother.

Um, wait…

What did I just think? Was that the comparison I really wanted to make?

I drove in silence in the night darkness, and then found myself reaching for the car’s touch-screen.

“Would you like to make a call?” the automated voice came through the car’s speakers.

I opened my mouth to speak before I could change my mind. “Call Tracy.”