My brother came home late one night, thoroughly drunk, and passed out on his bed, totally clothed. We were alone and I did something monumentally stupid. The whole time I was mad scared that he'd come in my mouth, but he never did, me sucking him just long enough to satisfy my craving, and then stealing back to my bedroom. The giddiness I'd felt before sucking him was gone and I laid in bed feeling paranoid, guilt-wracked and scared. What if Jamie woke up, knowing what I'd done? What if he started clamoring for me to do it again? It hadn't been that satisfying an experience to begin with, sucking his limp little prick, not with him moaning and pushing on me with his hands, and trying to turn over. I though for sure he'd sit up, bleary-eyed and wonder what Olivia was doing with her mouth. I was 14 then, Jamie almost 21. I never did it again.
Seething with adolescence and recently educated by the Internet, my mind burned with all the images I'd seen of girls sucking cocks and having their rear ends plugged by guys, and opening their legs to have that part of themselves plugged too. (I thought it odd that a girl would want a penis up her rear end, but what did I know?) The desire to experiment burned in me like a 100 watt bulb, bright and shiny and illuminating all the nooks and crannies of my mind. I had even seen pictures of girls my own age having illegal sex with older boys and full-grown men. That idea made me all itchy and jumpy and terribly paranoid. That's why I chose Jamie to experiment on first.
Appropriately scared, I restricted my online viewing and the amount of time I let myself think about doing things. I used my finger and a lipstick vibrator that I stole from Victoria's mom and it was a lot better than what I had imagined. None of my friends knew about Jamie and I never brought up the subject with them.
In truth, this story began when I was 8 years old. For Victoria's 9th birthday party Mom dressed me in a stupid pink dress and white tights and put my hair in pigtails, and told me I'd be the prettiest girl at the party. I was humiliated and mortified, but forced myself to go because Victoria is my best friend. I stopped hating myself when Victoria's older brother Shawn took notice of me. There was no missing the interest in his eyes, the questioning and the speculation. I managed not to light my face on fire with embarrassment, and even managed an embarrassed smile when he caught me looking. That very same night, he sent me a message via IM.
Hey Olive. What's hapnin?
Who is this, I typed back. And how did you get my sign-on? It bothered me that some strange boy named JJMcFly had my IM address.
I got it from Victoria, but don't tell her. She doesn't know I been in her computer.
Shawn? I typed incredulously. My heart skipped half a dozen beats and I blushed uncontrollably. Why was Victoria's older brother IMing me? I checked the door again to make sure it was safely closed.
Yup. And how are you tonight?
Flabbergasted, I stupidly typed: I'm fine. How about you?
Horny as usual.
I blinked and laughed at the screen.
Sorry. That was rude, I guess. That's just how us guys talk to each other.
I typed: I'm not a guy. I'm also not your age, Shawn.
I guessed that from the pretty pink dress and your cute little pigtails, Olive. Oh, and of course the name, Olive.
My face was red as an apple now. If Mom knew I was IMing a 14-year old boy, Victoria's brother or not, I'd get ... well, the thought of it made me squirm.
It's Olivia, not Olive, and I think its uncool, IMing someone without permission.
Sorry, he wrote. I guess IMing you was a bad idea. Don't tell your mom about it, OK? Someday you'll ... well, someday you'll be old enough to IM. Can I IM you then?
My heart thumped against my ribcage like an angry fist. It was hard to swallow. I guessed adrenaline was flooding into my bloodstream.
Why would you even want to? I wrote.
I waited, but no answer. It was more than six years before Shawn IMed me again.
I saw him a lot, but we never talked. By the time I got to high school I'd all but forgotten about that night, and the inappropriate IMing we did. He was cute, yeah, but he was also Victoria's older brother. He also wasn't interested in me, in the least, me being 14 and him being 20, my brother's age, and in college. Victoria said he might move out soon and share an apartment with two other guys. I looked at my own brother and thought, Yeah, right, that's going to happen.
About a year after the sucking incident I accompanied Victoria home after school and I had on a cute pink top and had my hair in pigtails. I no longer hated pigtails and I also wore my hair in a braid sometimes, ala Katniss Everdeen, though I can't even imagine Katniss in a pink top and white culottes. I walked in behind Victoria and spotted Shawn on his way downstairs to the basement with a basket of laundry--rather, he spotted me. He tried, but failed to hide the shock of seeing me suddenly grown up. He stumbled and banged awkwardly against the stairway wall and finally looked where he should, instead of at me. I turned twice the pink of my shirt and thanked God I was behind Victoria and not in front of her. I got hold of myself before we made her bedroom.
A week later, Shawn was in the kitchen making a sandwich. He ignored me completely, but I was ready for it and ignored him back. To my surprise he palmed a folded slip of paper into my hand when he passed me on his way out the door. That momentary contact and the fact that he had slipped me a communication nearly left me brain-locked. I hurriedly jammed the paper into my pocket and tried my best to act ordinary. Victoria stared at my ridiculous blush. She did not connect it to her brother somehow, though it was absolutely obvious to me. Later, in the bathroom upstairs, I read the note with trembling fingers.
I apologize for being such a dumb ass. I know you could care less about me but I'm taking a chance on maybe I'm wrong about that. I also apologize for IMing you way back when, and then pulling a Gilbert Arenas on you. I knew it would get us both in trouble and if I got you in trouble anyway, I'm sorry about that. You are really cute and I really like you, but you are still 6 years younger than me and this is still against every law that exists. But if you want to talk, be online tonight and I'll IM you.
PS: Please don't let Victoria in on this. I couldn't stand that embarrassment.
I read the note three times, breathlessly each time, and then jammed it in my back pocket. I should have torn it up and flushed it down the toilet, but no way could I do that. I was so elated. I was also scared shitless, because I was this stupid immature 10th grader and this dreamboat on wheels was in his 2nd year of college. And my mother would absolutely kill me.
Shawn IM'd me at 8 o'clock.
Is it OK to talk?
I'm alone, I answered. I had a separate IM box open for Victoria and a bunch more for my other friends. I had to be careful whose box I replied to.
You OK with me IMing you?
You OK with me having no boobs?
LOL. How you doing?
Me too. Would it shock you to know I'd like to kiss you?
I erupted in a giggling fit that I could not contain no matter what. I wrote: I've been kissed by every hot boy in school. My lips might be too much for you, Shawn.
I live adventurously. And I don't have to worry that you've been to 2nd base with anyone either, because you don't have a 2nd base, do you?
Smart ass, I wrote. 2nd may be missing, but I have a working 3rd base. And I could even field a home run if I wanted too.
My face was a brighter red than any spanking I'd ever received.
He wrote back: Witty. You make me laugh. You make me something else too, but I can't discuss that with a missing 2nd baseman.
Base-girl, I corrected.
Base-girl. Calling you on your cell would probably be a bad idea.
Absolutely, I wrote. My mom checks it weekly to see what I've been up to. Just like she checks my computer weekly. Good thing IM's are pretty much untraceable, huh?
Good thing, he wrote back. So, would you let me kiss you?
He did, a week later. It was a hard thing to arrange, a 21-year old and me. It took three days of brain storming to set it up. I do gymnastics once a week and he would meet me at school. I thought I could slip away for 10 minutes near the end of the session without causing an Amber alert and we took a chance on that. If you think that's stretching it, you try dreaming up a clandestine meet between a 10th grader and a college sophomore sometime. And live to talk about it.
At 4:45 I slipped outside and met him in the hallway. He immediately snuck me into a side corridor and down the corridor to a locked gate. My heart hammered and I felt like someone in bad need of oxygen, like a mountain climber or a scuba diver running out of air. I had the mad jitters and fought a losing battle with nervous giggles. I felt like an 11-year old fielding her first kiss.
"We have to hurry," I told him in a panic. I imagined everyone suddenly spotting my absence and yanking out his or her cell phone at once. I was scared to death of having bad breath or giggling at the wrong moment or farting or having to pee my pants. I was mortified to be so damned flat and skinny and shapeless in my leotard. I had no business being there.
"Relax, OK?" He rubbed my biceps to calm me down. "It's only a kiss, Olive."
"I hate Olive, and I'm not worried about the kiss!" I hissed at him. "I don't want to get caught."
.... There is more of this story ...