Donna

Amateur

You want to hear about how I lost my virginity?

Don’t you play coy with me, you smug bastard. I know you do. You’re a bad man, sure as the sun rises of a morning. Pour me another one of those while you’re up.

So this was the spring of 1981, and I’d just turned 18. The leaves were just out. Jim and I were making plans for prom. Days getting longer, weather getting warmer, and Momma and Daddy had secured a condo at North Myrtle for me and the girls for the week after graduation. Jim’s family had their own condo not three towers over, and his parents had decided not to chaperone him and Steve when they came down.

Obviously, this was a very exciting time, because as you know, even though I’d made a point of saving myself for marriage, that commitment was largely ceremonial once a girl from our part of the world had made it through high school, so long as she had been going steady with the same boy for more than a year.

Jim knew that, too, and he’d even brought it up. We were in the back of his car. He was rubbing my pussy through my cotton panties like some Boy Scout trying to light a fire without matches or tinder. He says “Donna, when we get down to North Myrtle, I think it’s time.”

I played dumb, like “Time for what?” And he got a little mad, I think. He said something like “Time that we made love!”

But instead of coming out all forceful and manly, it came out a whine, with all that pretend Barry White seductiveness that you boys had back then. He could tell I didn’t like the suggestion, and he stopped pawing at my pussy which was just fine by me, since he wasn’t going to make me cum like that, ever, and all he really wanted to do was get me excited enough that I’d do something to his penis.

That poor boy. Must have had balls as blue as an electric spark.

But I thought about it that night, and I lay there in bed alone imagining it, and pretty soon I was cumming.

What? What? Why are you laughing? Did you imagine that I didn’t masterbate back then? Your little good-girl queen?

Listen, I know all about you and Jim and David, you and your stupid “basketball game.” Don’t you pretend otherwise! “Huh-huh, OK, this one is for Stephanie,” and then you’d shoot a layup. “This is for Lori,” and you’d shoot from the top of the key. And then you’d say “This one is for Donna,” and you’d all try to shoot from beyond halfcourt. Like a good little Baptist girl like me was an impossible shot. Such fucking morons.

Let me tell you something, mister. I didn’t know a damned thing about sex, except that it was sinful outside of marriage and a beautiful gift from God between a man and wife. But sometimes I just could not sleep from wanting it. Except what I’d want was not what I said I wanted.

Like that night, I started out imagining that I was on the beach with Jim, and the moon was out, and pretty soon we were kissing and he said “Let’s make love,” and I said “Yes,” and then we were walking back to the condo. And the problem with that is I could be too literal minded, and the walk was too long. So my imagination wandered, and pretty soon I was thinking about that summer Daddy hired you and David to build that privacy fence around our pool.

You remember that? I’ll bet you do. I wouldn’t give you the time of day, but I’d sit out there in my bikini, sunglasses on, driving you crazy.

Hush your mouth. That’s just the way you wish it was. You know, David was a much better-looking boy than you you were back then. You were a scrawny, lanky thing. Yes you were! And your hair! The worst! But there was something about the way that you moved, the way you’d get in a zone. Like you were floating on air.

David, he was put together. Had a little muscle on him. I remember I did just the slightest things to provoke him, but after a while I started to take a shine to you. Could you tell that I was flirting with you?

See now? That’s sweet. That’s why I liked you, even though Daddy told me you were a bad seed. Come here. Gimme some sugar.

Anyway, that’s how I came that night. I stopped thinking about Jim making love to me in the condo and I imagined that David came over, no shirt on, little teen muscles covered in sweat, and just ripped my bikini bottoms off. I imagined he had this enormous penis, and that he just shoved it right into my pussy, just like that!

I’m telling you: I didn’t have a clue.

But the thought of him fucking me on that folding lounge chair while you watched us? That made me cum. I don’t know why.

So yeah, I thought about sex. As much as anyone, maybe more.

And since Jim was my steady, he was the one who was going to get it. Done deal. It was just a question of when, and how. Because being good was just wearing me out! I had to touch myself just to go to sleep at night. Or I’d put that pulsating shower head on my clit whenever i took a bath. The water bills my parents paid!

I once even took a warm zucchini, fresh from Momma’s garden and ran it back and forth üsküdar escort over my clit, flitting it in and out of the entrance to my pussy. But I was very careful not to push it in too deep, believe you me! Momma talked about my maidenhead like it was some kind of magical product safety seal that God had put there for mystical purposes, and I damn sure didn’t want to ruin my magical freshness with some stupid squash, for heaven’s sake.

Oh, if you’d have known! What a scandal! Baptist Donna, the good-girl cheerleader, lying on her babydoll bedspread on a summer afternoon, mouth open, gasping for breath, doing it with a vegetable. Can you imagine? It just scared me to death that someone would catch me.

Scared me even more that I liked that feeling.

But then everything came out about Jim, right before prom, right after my 18th birthday. Did you know he denied it, all of it, at first?

And I said “Jim Canton, you mean to tell me that Anne and Pearlie and Allison were all lying?”

And he said “Rev. Bob was just giving me a counseling session.” Well, you know, if a youth minister sucking your cock behind a fellowship hall dumpster counts as “counseling,” then I ought to be some kind of Pope by now, I guess. But he just couldn’t own up to it, and I think that’s really the thing that did it.

No, really. I think I could have forgiven him a moment of indiscretion. Lord knows Jesus called on us to love and forgive. Lord knows I’d been teasing him for two years. One time he even pulled it out and put it in my hand, started showing me what to do.

He said: “Donna, it’s a sin if I do it, but if you do it, just so long as we don’t put it anywhere inside of you, it’s OK.”

Can you believe that? That’s just how messed up we were.

What I should have done was just sucked that boy dry every minute we were alone, just to keep him sane and sensible. But man, our parents and that church, they had us coming and going.

What did I do? Oh Gawd, I don’t remember. I probably slapped his hand away and told him to take me home. But it really did turn me on, which is why I got so mad. Probably got off alone in my bed thinking about it just so I could go to sleep. I was already kinked up. Just didn’t know it yet.

But anyway, Anne and Pearlie and Allison were back there sneaking a cigarette when Rev. Bob led Jim out of the Fellowship Hall and they saw the whole thing. Not even any foreplay. Jim just unzipped his jeans and down went the Rev. Bob. Kind of a funny name for a youth minister, given the circumstances, don’t you think? And Pearlie said it didn’t take no time for Jim to shoot off. None of them had ever seen a man ejaculate before, and they said Rev. Bob was gagging and coughing and Jim was just spraying long, thick ropes of semen into the dark, with nothing even touching him.

So I always figured that I sorta forced Jim into that situation, since I wouldn’t help matters, and what with all that semen backing up. Must have addled his mind. And then there’s this creepy youth minister, and that’s all she wrote.

I felt sorry for him, I did. But in my mind, letting another man suck his dick made Jim just as queer as the man doing the sucking, and the church was very clear about what that meant. An abomination. I think back on it now, and all that homophobia I grew up on kinda turns my stomach. It’s just hateful. But right then is when it all started to turn for me. I started processing the fact that one of people who taught to hate gays that was Rev. Bob. That’s where things started to go down the rabbit hole.

After we broke up, everything went sideways for a while. The church kept things as quiet as you can in a place like McElroy. Rev. Bob went on to another congregation in Taylorsville. Jim and I talked about going to prom together, just as friends, and I would have, too. I didn’t want to shame the boy, if only because some of that might have reflected back on me and my family. But Jim was just terribly guilty. Or maybe just ashamed, afraid. If he hadn’t been just a few weeks away from graduating, he might have just run off, just to avoid the rumors he was so sure everyone knew.

I’m not sure exactly why he took up with Jean. I don’t really care now. Maybe he just needed to prove something. That’s what Momma said. I didn’t even want him at that point, but I just cried and cried. Here I was, keeping his secrets, and next thing I know he’s dropping me for Jean. Taking her to prom. Taking her out to Robb’s Station Road. Your old haunts, I believe.

I think the thing that stung me most was when Pearlie told me that Jim had offered Jean around to y’all at that pre-graduation party. Drunk as she was, did she even know it? Was she even of her right mind? And I thought, even if you didn’t take your turn, like Pearlie said you didn’t, why didn’t you stop it? I don’t know why, since we weren’t particularly friends, but I expected more of you.

Isn’t that funny? You were the only kid at our school göztepe escort who never went to church, and everyone said you were trouble. But I held you to a higher standard for some reason.

Jim, I knew he was just acting out, and Jean, she was just a sad little thing. I’d known her since kindergarten. She was just doing the best she could with the tools she had, bless her heart. But I felt estranged from a lot of you after that. Didn’t want to see anybody. Didn’t answer the phone.

Come to think of it, you and me, we were probably about the only ones from those honors classes who didn’t go down to Myrtle Beach after we walked at the coliseum. You didn’t have the money. I just couldn’t bear to go.

You know, I always thought you had the talent to get a scholarship, if you’d just kept growing. Maybe not to the ACC, but you know, Big South schools give basketball scholarships, and when you’d get in that zone of yours, couldn’t nobody stop you but your own mind. Shocked us all when you joined the Navy and shipped out that summer.

But you wanted to hear about how I lost my virginity.

So it was that weekend, and Momma and Daddy had made plans to go visit her cousins up at The Lake for a few days, on account of they thought I’d be at the beach with everybody. And I guess they figured I’d be OK on my own at the house once I decided not to leave. Momma bought me some ice cream and some bag salad. Daddy told me I could take the station wagon if I needed to go to the store or whatever. Momma said: “Don’t you fret about that dumb Jim.”

And I didn’t. Instead, as soon as they were gone, I got in the bathtub, ran the hot water has hard as it would go on my pussy, and imagined it was me instead of Jean at that party, drunk and alive, being passed around to all those boys I’d know my whole life. I imagined every face and every dick, except the only dick I knew was Jim’s, and that only barely. I imagined being surrounded by them, just a forest of penis, a circular firing squad of cock. Yours included.

What? Well what do you think I imagined? Yes, sucking. Yes, fucking.

No! Bad boy! I didn’t know a thing about ass-fucking back then. It was 1981! All that came up later. I’m sure it was tingling around in some dark corner of my imagination all along, but I didn’t know what I know now.

Do you want to hear this story or not, dammit?

OK, fine: The thought that that got me off was I imagining sucking your cock while somebody held my arms and fucked me hard from behind, That’s the way I thought whores did it. Satisfied now? Yes, you. Don’t look so damned smug.

I really hate you right now.

I felt awful about it, imagining myself in poor Jean’s place. But I had the house to myself. Complete, rare privacy. And I thought, “There’s nobody here, I’m going to get bottle of wine and drink it and masturbate whenever I want and anybody who doesn’t like it can just jump in the lake.”

So I drove the station wagon down to the Piggly Wiggly and I bought a bottle of red wine, a pack of Virginia Slims, and a Bic lighter. So I was just being a very bad girl to begin with. I’d never smoked the first cigarette, much less had a drink. And I’d never had an orgasm before that was anything but silent. Just hearing my own moans that night turned me one. Just feeling free and private turned me on.

Sunday I woke up, expecting to feel bad. But I didn’t. So I went to church like always. Ran into my cousin Neesie and she wanted to go see “Clash of the Titans” over at the mall theater. So I went with her, and then we sat at the food court. Dumb, just like Neesie. I remember sitting there thinking, “Who ever thought this was a good idea? What the hell have I been doing with my life?”

Next morning I woke up early, and the house was all quiet, way out there in the country. I’d been bored before, but this was different. This was the feeling you get when you’re bored, but you’re also convinced there’s so much you could be doing. So a little before lunch, I drove a few miles out of my way over to that Stop-N-Shop up on Wendell Road and I bought another bottle of wine – white this time – and a Playgirl. Because not being able to imagine more than one penis was really messing up my gangbang fantasies.

So anyway, it’s a warm June day, I’m lounging at the pool in my bikini. I’m 18 years old. I’m reading Playgirl. I’m drinking white wine like some sophisticated California starlet, smoking those horrible Virginia Slims. I’m looking at my hard, pert tits, my flat belly, my long pretty legs, and I’m thinking, “I’m what every man wants.” And yes, I felt guilty thinking it, but then again, my moral compass felt a bit off-center that week.

But it was also the truth, dammit. Admit it.

That’s when the pool guy showed up.

Stop laughing this goddamn instant! Stop it! You fucking smart-ass! You wanted to hear the story! You asked to hear the story! Get off me! Get off me, you asshole! Get that dick out of my istanbul pendik escort face! Fuck you! Fuck you!

(Laughter, indecipherable)

(Minutes pass.)

You are such a bad man, but damn that feels good.

Slowly! Gentle! I’m still sore from the last time. You greedy bastard. Greedy. Fucking. Bastard. My fucking gawd.

Get the lube. The lube. In the bedside stand. In my makeup bag. I travel light, but I travel ready.

You know why.

Look, if that’s not what you want, say so, Billy. But don’t lick my pussy and slide your finger up my ass and then pretend you don’t want to push your cock up there if you really don’t. I know you’re trying to be polite, but don’t make me beg for it. Do you want to fuck my ass again or not? Yes? Yes? Then get the lube.

Pour a little in my hand. I’m gonna slick up that cock of yours. Slick myself up a little, too. I really can’t believe I’m doing this. You like watching that? Yeah, I’ll bet you do.

Scootch up here beside me now. I’m gonna get you started. Right there. Feel that? Now push just a tiny bit. Little more now.

Oh my gawd. Oh my gawd.

What? No, it’s incredible.

Go deeper. Slowly.

Stop.

Wait a minute. Hold still. Just hold still. I gotta adjust.

Get my little friend. My little friend! Gawd, don’t be stupid right now, I’m so turned on. Should still have a charge. In the bag. Same bag. No, just hand it here. I’ll do it.

OK. Slowly, slowly. Yes. A little deeper.

Jesus fucking gawd! Yes!

Fuck me Billy!

Fuck. Jesus. Ahh!

Stop! Stop! Jesus, I can’t stop quivering!

Look, I can’t explain it. It is what it is. We’ve never been together before and you’ve made me cum three times, twice while balls deep in my rump! Greedy fucking bastard! What do you expect from me?

OK, fine then: I love your cock in my ass when I’m cumming, and as soon as I’m done I want it out! It’s not my fault you’re slow on the trigger.

Of course I’m not going to leave you hanging. For a supposedly smart man you sure are a dumbass. You can take my pussy or you can take my mouth, but you’ve got to wash that thing off first. Soap and water!

Don’t you worry, I’ll be right here.

Damn that boy fucks good.

(Minutes pass)

You know what I like about you? You’re 50-year-old man with the semen production of your average 19-year-old. Yes, I would know that. Bring that thing over here. Let me reward you. Just shut up, you idiot, and come over here.

Jesus!

(Minutes pass)

Feel better now? Yeah, that was fun. Wipe my chin off, baby. Gimme some sugar.

No, that’s an entirely acceptable amount for a second shot. I’m impressed. Look at you, Mr. Overachiever and shit.

Mind if I lay up on you a little while? OK? OK. No, that’s just fine. I can hear your heart. Sounds like a bass drum in there. Very strong. I like it.

(Minutes pass)

My story? I don’t know if I should tell you my story now.

Because I didn’t even get to the part where the pool man took my virginity and you got so turned on you treated me like your own personal sex toy, that’s why. I’m gonna be so goddamned sore tomorrow, and I’ve got to be on the road to Omaha by 9.

No, it was absolutely worth it. My God, Billy. That last time? I have never invited a man to fuck my ass twice in the same night, but whatever happened that first time made me cum so hard, just with cock and fingers. And then that second time, with proper lube and my vibrator? I thought I was gonna fall apart, like my arms and legs were just gonna shake loose. Like my head was gonna buzz off my shoulders and go bouncing around the room. Out of control.

Well, what are you gonna give me if I tell you? If I finish the story of how I lost my virginity? What’s in it for me?

No deal. This hotel has free breakfast and you know it. You gotta offer me something better, big shot.

Hmm. That’s an interesting offer. You really think you can give me four in one night? Maybe I’m too tired. Maybe I’m too old.

That’s sweet of you to say. I like the way you look, too. You grew up kinda lean and long. I didn’t recognize you at first in the lounge tonight, but I knew I liked the way you looked. Never expected to run into someone from high school out here.

Honestly? I had not thought of you in years. I don’t think we even spoke at the 10-year. But when we wound up in the same Facebook group I thought, you know, “That one turned out alright.”

You just can’t ever tell. Jim’s a fucking Jabba the Hutt figure now. David ain’t no prize. Kim wound up so strung out on heroin she looked like death long before the AIDS took her. Shelley’s a heifer. Can you believe? But if you haven’t seen Myra, you ought to look her up. Took up yoga and pilates after her divorce. Ugly duckling her whole life, suddenly she’s drop-dead sexy. I think she’s had work done.

And you filled out right nice.

Damn boy, you get right down to it, don’t you? I don’t think I’ve ever in my life met a man who enjoys eating pussy the way you do. What is this, your hobby? Where have you been all my life?

Alright then, you win. We’ll see if I can concentrate enough to remember. And speak. Could be a challenge.

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