The age is getting lower and lower these days when boys are worshipped as athletes and given special treatment. It's down to seventh grade in basketball. Middle schools are trying to recruit the top players away from their neighborhoods, even supplying bogus addresses so they can play for them. These guys don't have much academic pressure either. They get all the help they need, including alteration of grades to keep them eligible.
What do they learn from all this? That they are special; that the rules don't apply to them; that almost any kind of behavior they engage in will be tolerated. The result for those who don't make it as professional athletes is disastrous. They never learn to control their impulsive behavior, they are not equipped to do anything and suffer the rest of their lives as a result.
What you may not realize is that there are some girls in a similar situation. We're not necessarily intelligent. We don't excel at athletics. We just have the one personal characteristic most valued by our society - we look good.
I am a prime example. I started to notice it in grade school. Guys would offer to provide all kinds of services for me just for the favor of my time. They would carry my books, do my homework, offer to beat each other up, though how that was supposed to be of value to me I never knew.
As I moved into middle school and high school, I was more revered than our star power forward. I was prom queen not only for the junior and senior proms, but the write-in vote picked me senior prom queen when I was a sophomore, though the principal disallowed it.
In high school I got even better service. Guys did my homework, wrote my papers, wrote my book reports, chauffeured me wherever I demanded to go, bought me things because I wanted them and granted any other whim that came into my mind. There was even this one nerd named Bill, I mockingly took to calling him Little Willie in a sing song voice just to let him know his place. Despite the fact that he was a couple of years younger, he would prep me for tests. He didn't just go over the material with me. He analyzed it, came up with the most likely questions to be asked on the test and wrote the answers most likely to be successful for the style of the teacher. And how did I reward him for these services? I let him provide them. He got to spend time in my presence. He thought he might be entitled to more than that. He asked me out to a movie. I could have been cruel. I could have told him I was so far out of his league that no matter what he did the rest of his life he would never catch up. But I was kind. I just told him he was too immature and that when he grew up he could consider asking me again.
The majority of these services were provided by nerds, but the elite were not immune to my charms. The quarterback and the star forward had their pick of girls, except me. With most of the other girls, not only did they have a reasonable expectation that sex would be provided, they could name the particular sex act in which they were interested and the girls would comply. But my status was so high that they had no expectation that I would do anything for or with them. I would become involved with them in serious kissing, but it was the rare occasion on which I "forgot" and allowed them to touch my breast - on the outside of my clothing, of course.
Those rules were necessary to maintain my status in high school, but in college, I did have some competition, not serious competition, but competition nonetheless. It wasn't just the competition. I wanted to enjoy sexual experiences myself, and I was eighteen, which meant I was legal. So I became freer with, of course, the college elite. I dated the wealthy, the top athletes and the children of famous people. Even as a freshman. I was so knock out, drop dead gorgeous that I was readily welcomed into these circles.
I was also a lot smarter than your average jock. I knew I could not completely succeed on the work of others. I knew, for example, that I couldn't get anybody to take my college boards for me and would, therefore, need to actually understand much of the work other people did for me in high school. I knew I would need to understand much of the material in order to succeed in a good college. And it was important for me to get into a good college because the elite there would be better than the elite at a lesser school. This was important to my overall life plan.
I could have made it on my own. My family had money. I guess that's not making it on my own and making it on my own was what I wanted to do. I could absolutely have been a model. But I understand that's a lot of work and, from what I had learned when I was young, I could achieve the same or greater level of wealth by marrying well. I wouldn't marry just for money. But surely there would be wealthy, successful guys out there worthy of being loved. In the meantime, whatever temporary profession I chose, I would have lots of useful contacts to help me generate business.
Best of all, I didn't have to make a choice now. I could pursue other interests, particularly sexual interests, without interfering with my overall plan. I didn't even have to be especially promiscuous to get the range of experience I desired because, secret's out guys - girls talk. I knew who was hung, who had special talents, who I could go to if I wanted to try out some kinky experiment. Not only do girls talk, they especially wanted to talk to me to curry favor. I was the hottest woman on campus and my stature grew steadily until, by my sophomore year, I was an undisputed phenomenon.
As we approached Thanksgiving break in my junior year I began to notice unusual things happening. A couple of the girls who had been climbing the social register were unaccountably absent from some key events and parties. On a Tuesday I saw one of them heading in my general direction. I felt it my responsibility to investigate what was happening to one of my retinue.
"Hi, Jennifer. I haven't seen you around lately. What's keeping you so busy?"
"Hi, Ashley. You know, just taking care of school, enjoying life." There was something different about her. We were all happy with the lifestyle we were leading, but she seemed to have a level of contentment I had not seen before. She had a man.
"Who is he?"
"Your new guy. You haven't been sifting through the prospects lately but you seem, I don't know, peaceful, happy. Who is he?"
She blushed. "Nobody you know. A friend introduced us."
"A blind date? Wow. You must really trust her."
"So tell me about him. Jock? Connected? Classy? What?"
I had never seen her so reticent. "Just a sweet guy."
"He must be some kind of stud to keep you away from the action. He must be hung like a horse."
She blushed again and turned her head slightly away. I had never seen this girl blush at anything before and she had done it twice in one short conversation. "He's a very special guy."
"Very? So what is he, nine inches, ten?" No response. "A foot? My goodness." I waved my hand back and forth in front of my face as if to cool off a sudden flush."
"That's personal. I don't think I should be talking about it."
"Oh my god, he's even bigger. I want a crack at that." If she wasn't about to marry the guy, our code dictated that she give me that opportunity.
"I, I really didn't measure. Anyway, that has nothing to do with it."
"Right. Only guys with little dicks say size has nothing to do with it."
"He doesn't say anything about it. He is just the most unbelievable lover I've ever had." I could see regret in her face that I had pushed her to talk about it. I would have to push to get more.
"My God, how big is he? Can you even take it all?"
"I don't know for sure. Maybe around five inches." She looked down, avoiding my eyes.
I was shocked. I had no idea what to say. A guy would have to have an awful lot of money to get me to have anything to do with his five-inch dick. "So what does he do that makes it so fantastic." I said it with real curiosity, not derision.
"He knows things," she said softly.
"I really don't want to talk about it. We're not exclusive so, if you really want to know, I'll introduce you to him."
"Is he at least a hunk?" I almost winced as I heard it come out of my mouth. She was taken with this guy and I was trying to find out if there was any justification whatsoever.
"He looks nice enough, though probably not what you would call a hunk."
This was like pulling teeth. I was asking open-ended questions and she was giving me clipped responses. "So who introduced you to this," don't use derisive words, "special guy?"
"No fucking way." It just slipped out. Candy was the other girl who had been AWOL. Jennifer was offering no unsolicited information so I had to press on. "So what is it that's so special about this guy?"
"He's sweet and sincere. He treats me with respect, not at all like a sex object. And he has such a quiet self confidence it's hard not to be captivated by him."
"Do I hear love?"
"Not exactly. I thought I felt that way at first, but he's helped me to know myself better and I love being with him but I'm not in love with him. He helped me realize I'll find the right guy. I just have to be patient."
"But you keep fucking him anyway?"
"And I have no plans to stop. He's too good. We do other stuff too."
"So how did Candy know him?"
"She started seeing him first. She's not in love with him either, but she won't give him up voluntarily."
"Wow. Wow. So how has this incredible guy managed to keep himself so well hidden for so long?"
.... There is more of this story ...