Chapter 12: Cheryl’s Turn

Hi. I’m Cheryl. Cheryl Roberts. If you’ve been reading what John McDonald has been writing, then I guess you know who I am. His description of me is pretty accurate. Well, except for when he gushes about how beautiful I am. I don’t think I’m nearly as breathtakingly gorgeous as John seems to think. I’ve always been insecure about my looks, and I know for a fact that my BFF, Megan Murray, is a lot hotter than I am. She takes sexy to a whole new level. I guess it’s ok if John thinks I’m the hottest, though, since he is my boyfriend. As long as you know that what he writes about my looks might not be 100 percent. When he talks about what a bitch I was to him, though, his description fits me to a T.

How do I know what John’s been saying about me? Well, he’s been keeping a journal, ever since the morning after that Friday night when he found me puking my guts up outside the Thistle. And I know this, because I’ve read it. We slept at his place one night last week, and then in the morning - after he brought me off with his fingers in the shower, and I knelt on the bathroom floor and gave him a BJ in return - he had class and I didn’t. It didn’t make sense to me to go all the way home for the morning, since I had class that afternoon. So I asked if I could just hang out at his place and do some work there. He said sure, and told me to make myself at home and use his laptop. So I did.

And it wasn’t like I had to go snooping around to find the journal. I wouldn’t have done that. Well, I don’t think I would have, anyway. I mean, I didn’t rummage through his dresser drawers or check out the top shelf of his closet or look under his bed or anything to see what he might have hidden there. But the document he’s been writing his journal about me in was open when I woke his computer up. So it was sitting right there in plain sight. Maybe I shouldn’t have read it. But I did.

Anyway, John keeps saying that there shouldn’t be secrets between us. And I think he means it. After all, he did tell me about how he uses his little sister’s panties to jack off in. And if a guy will admit that to his girlfriend, then how much can he really be hiding? And before you all judge him for that, it doesn’t sound like he’s been fantasizing about doing his sisters. I think that they were just a convenient supply, so to speak, of little sexy underthings to rub his cock with. From reading his journal, I know that the only girl he’s been thinking about doing anything sexual to for the last year has been me.

OK, so I’ll admit it. After I read his journal, I snooped a bit. Not around his apartment or anything. Just on his computer. He’d written about the stories he read, the ones where he fantasized about me in the leading female role, so to speak, and I wanted to see what these stories were like. So I went into his browser history and started bringing some of them up. I guess I’ve lived a sheltered life. I’ve seen porn - hasn’t everyone? - and you can find clips of people screwing or being screwed by just about anything you can imagine on the net these days. But I had no idea these story sites existed, where people could read and share hot literature.

John had read a lot of different kinds of those stories, according to his history tab. But the ones that he read the most (and it was easy to see which ones those were, because he bookmarked them!) were stories where a guy, often a bit of a geek, is put down publically by a pretty, popular girl, and then finds a way to get revenge on her. In one of them, the geek and his friends tricked a cheerleader into putting out for them in return for some studying help, and videotaped the whole thing. Then they made her supply them with her friends, one by one, and they blackmailed each of them as well, until they’d fucked the whole cheerleading squad. In another one, the geek and his buddy blackmailed his big sister and her two hot friends into becoming their sex slaves for the summer. In another one, the geek simply snapped, and kidnapped the gorgeous girl who had dumped him, along with her new boyfriend, and drove them up to a remote cabin in the woods where he spent a week raping the girl in every possible way while her boyfriend watched helplessly. And in one that sounded eerily familiar, the geek found the gorgeous girl in distress, rescued her, and then showed her what a geek could do for a girl in bed if one only gave him the chance. That was the best one, because in that one, the geek and the gorgeous girl ended up getting married and living happily ever after.

Reading John’s journal describing our dating life (and especially our sex life!) had gotten me pretty wet. Reading all these stories pushed me over the top. I had my pants undone and my hand in my panties the whole time I was reading. I lost track of how many times I made myself come. (Later that night, when John walked me home from night class, I know he wanted me to ask him in for a quickie, but I couldn’t. I had rubbed my clit so hard in front of his computer that it was practically raw. I had to put him off until the next day, though I did try to make it up to him then. And I sent the panties I’d worn that day - unwashed - home with him for Thanksgiving. I think he likes the smell of wet pussy on a pair of sexy panties - or so it seems from his habit of stealing his sister’s dirty panties to jack off into.)

Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t want to be one of those girls in the stories. Not really. I know that John had the perfect opportunity to rape and abuse me the night he brought me home, drunk out of my mind, and put me to sleep in his bed. I am so grateful that he didn’t take that opportunity. It would have been hellish if he had. But as I read the stories John had bookmarked, I realized a few things.

The first thing I realized was that John had actually thought about doing some pretty nasty things to me. Now, he didn’t do any of them, or at least, he didn’t do any of them until after I encouraged him. But he had fantasized about it. That could have pissed me off, I guess. But somehow it didn’t. I realized that cleaning me up and putting me to bed and leaving me to sleep off my drunken stupor unmolested almost certainly wasn’t the only option that crossed John’s mind that night. He had at least thought about raping me, and he didn’t do it. And that made him seem more gallant to me, not less so.

The second thing I realized was that John had fantasies that I hadn’t fulfilled yet. I’d been trying to use my experience to his advantage, in showing him all the ways that I could use my body to make him feel good, and he had certainly responded by making me feel good. But there were things that he had read about and presumably jerked off to that he might like to try. Some of those things were kind of nasty and perverted, but there’s nothing wrong with a little dirty role play sometimes. So how could I help fulfil these fantasies for him?

The third thing I realized was that even though John believed I was the perfect and only woman for him, I felt kind of bad that I’d been around the block and he hadn’t. Yes, it was fun to have my own personal virgin. But was it fair that I’d had a range of experiences that he hadn’t? I knew, even then, that this guy was the one for me. He was so a keeper. If he was the only man I slept with for the rest of my life, I would be happy. But would he be happy - really happy - if I was the only woman he ever had the chance to be with? Or did he deserve a chance to experience someone else?

The final thing I realized was that I still felt incredibly guilty for being such a bitch to John when he first asked me out. He’d been so helpful to me, and I had basically just used him. When he asked me out for a simple dinner - and I am sure that was all he had in his mind - I turned him down. Rudely. And while John would say that I’ve made up for that by saying yes the second time he asked me out, I still can’t quite get over it. I’m sure he’s forgiven me. But I have not forgiven myself. And I guess I was thinking that perhaps if I could do something really special for John, I could put that guilt behind me, and just move forward in my relationship with him.