Chapter 3

I've said several times that I didn't know what Mia was thinking during the early periods of our relationship. I thought about inserting some of her thoughts as I went along, but I decided most of that could wait until later. But I guess some of that should come out now, because I think it is important that you understand what was going on in her mind that first time, in the tree house, when she gave me her virginity, and took mine. At the same time, you also need to understand that neither of us had all this figured out at that point in time.

First off, she didn't even realize that she was taking my virginity. All she was doing, on one level, was reacting to a drive inside her. It was a drive she'd felt before, but never as strongly as this. But it wasn't as simple as her merely surrendering to her biological impulses. It was a lot more complicated than that. To be fair to her, she might have thought that was all she was doing. I mean if somebody would have stuck their head up over the top of the floor and shouted "What are you doing?!" it is quite possible she would have said something like "I don't know! I just feel like I have to do it!" And, without any help in discussing all this, she might have come to the conclusion that all she was doing was letting Nature have its way.

I did ask her, some time later, "Why then?" and "Why with me?" And she did say "I don't know ... because I wanted to?"

It took a long time for us to finally put all the pieces of the puzzle together and figure out why she did what she did that day. First, I was nice to her when she moved in next door to me. From my perspective that was kind of "Duh ... you were gorgeous!" but the majority of teenage girls don't like their bodies. That's because of what Madison Avenue tells them about their bodies - that they are too fat, that their skin isn't clear enough, that their hair is too dull, that their fricking eyelashes don't have enough body, that they don't smell good enough, even to the point that they should be scared that their natural female odors are being broadcast like a massive fart or something. Advertising spends billions telling young girls they aren't good enough unless they buy this product and use it up and buy more.

So the majority of teenage girls, including the babes, don't believe they are just naturally attractive.

And when her female intuition recognized that my male intuition thought she was meeting the standard just fine, there was an unconscious approval of me that settled into her brain. That was the start. She liked me because I liked her ... just the way she was.

Of just as much importance, though, was that I didn't act like all the other wolves. Quite literally, that night I put nail holes in Jerry and saw her luscious naked breasts, I didn't push my advantage. Had I said " Well, little darlin', I saved your sweet pussy, so maybe I should get to sample it. What do you say?" then her attitude toward me would have been just like it was to all the rest. While I obviously "appreciated" her, I didn't pursue that the way all the other boys did.

And of even more importance, when guys started lying about using her pussy, I believed her, instead of them.

Of course there was the fact that I had saved her from getting raped. She might have thought about that differently if I'd told her why I actually snuck over to peek into the car. But I didn't tell her, and let me warn you now ... if you do ... I'm going to be back in Judge Judy's courtroom, and you're going to get to take advantage of Mr. Obama's wonderful health care plan ... capice?

Sorry. It's a kind of addiction. That's why I go to BA.

Anyway, then there was the power I gave her (without having any idea I had done so) by beating up Jerry. When she threatened him, saying she would have me beat him up again if he lied about having sex with her - and he caved - it empowered her. That also tended to put me a bit higher on the pedestal I hopped up on when I saved her from getting raped. In the same vein, when I let her tell people I was her boyfriend, that also empowered her.

Except that she wasn't kidding about that. She really did want me to be her boyfriend.

And that's when things got complicated. She had all these feelings for me, because I was the kind of guy any decent girl might appreciate. Except that she'd seen me get incredibly violent. It was for a good reason, but most people don't enjoy watching actual violence take place. They watch it in movies, but their subconscious mind knows it's all an act, and that nobody is actually getting hurt. All those people who love The Godfather? They wouldn't if they knew an actual horse got decapitated to make the movie. It didn't - I don't want PETA coming down on me - talk about a bunch of bullies. But you get my meaning.

So she was drawn to me, but there were things that pushed me away from her too. Plus she'd never actually had a normal boyfriend, and because I'd never had a girlfriend either, neither one of us knew how to make that work.

So there was this push/pull, love/hate kind of thing going on in her mind. And the frustration created in me by all this, resulted in my new reputation, that of being a bully to other bullies, growing as I got in more and more "practice" at my new hobby ... and started branching out to "correcting the behavior" of non-bullies as well.

And then she went away and didn't see me for what, to us, seemed like a long time. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. My opinion is that all absence does is make calluses grow on the palm, but in her case, she went with the classic phrase. She missed me. A lot. And by the time she got back, with all those things to tell me about, she was already excited when she went looking for me. Her libido was primed, as it were. She didn't realize that, which is probably why she went looking for me with abandon. She just thought she was happy to be home, and excited to share about driving the tractor and such.

So when she climbed up in the tree house, and saw my naked chest (number one thing that girls look at first on a boy, fellas - check the stats if you don't believe me), and all I had on was those cutoffs, her libido kicked up a notch. The number two thing girls check out (according to some magazines) is the front of the pants, and mine, if you recall, was ready and waiting, pumped up to the max that day. And then, of course, I said she was beautiful.

That's the triple threat, if a girl already likes you.

And from there, the fact that while Mia thought of me as dangerous to others (bullies) I was not dangerous to her, which meant she could try some of the things she'd always been curious about in an environment where she wasn't on guard every second.

And that is how things get out of hand, which is exactly what happened up there in that tree house.

That part we knew, of course - that things had gotten out of hand. We knew that just as soon as she collapsed on my naked body, her hair covering my face, both of us gasping for breath as my penis slowly shrank inside her body. We both knew a line had been crossed that shouldn't have been crossed. At least according to every adult in the world.

Again, this was a lot more complicated than we expected it to be. One of the things that made it complicated for me was that I kept wanting to say "Thank you," over and over again, because I could now die and know that I had experienced the very best in life. But I was also pretty sure that wasn't what you were supposed to say after sex. I mean I'd never heard even one actor say something like that, either after the simulated sex in a movie, or the real thing in a porn video. I felt like I'd taken a step towards manhood, and did not want to screw that up by saying the wrong thing. And I felt stupid for not knowing the right thing to say.

Meanwhile, she was dealing with the fact that, at the moment she realized I was shooting my sperm into her body, all she could think about were the twin feelings of horror that I might be getting her pregnant, and the intense desire that I do so. Again, there exists (sometimes) a dichotomy between what the subconscious wants, based on biology, and what the conscious mind tells us is the "right" thing to do.

So both of us were faced, in those moments where we caught our breath, with both positive and negative emotions and thoughts.

This is, I have since learned, one reason why there is so little chatting right after sex. Nobody knows what to say, because everybody is at least a little conflicted about things.

I'll tell you one thing, though. Regardless of how our boyfriend/girlfriend relationship had been defined before this, it fell firmly into the usual, average, and normal definition in that tree house.

By the time we climbed down, we were both very serious about that relationship, and wanted it to last.

The first thing Mia said to me about what had happened in the tree house was the next day. We hadn't talked about it in the uncomfortable silence after having sex that first time. All we did was get dressed and then leave the tree house and woods, seeking someplace more familiar, so we could slide back into something routine and comfortable. We did kiss when we parted. Both of us wanted to do that. But neither of us knew what kind of kiss was appropriate at that point, so it was a somewhat unsatisfying kiss. For both of us, I think.

But the next day, when I went outside and saw her sitting on her front porch, I went over and sat down beside her. She looked at me and smiled - a different kind of smile than I'd ever seen on her face, somehow - and she said "Now you know what I meant that time I told you I wasn't afraid of you ... that I was afraid of me."

"What?" Her memory was better than mine.

"When Jerry tried to rape me, and you fought for me ... I wanted to let you do what he tried to force me to do."

I blinked, and then realized the import of what she'd said.

"Wow," I said, softly.

"Yeah," she said. "It scared me."

"I remember that now," I said. "I thought you were afraid of me."

"Nope," she said. "Just me."

"Your feelings," I clarified.

"Yes," she said. "And I was right."

"I don't understand," I said.

"I'm not sure I understand what happened yesterday," she said, looking over at me. "But what I do know is that now I want to do it again."

"Really?" I felt my penis stiffen. It was incredible. I knew I could get a boner quick, but this was warp factor two or three!

"But we can't," she said.

"Oh." Even I could hear the heavy disappointment in my voice.

She laughed!

"You make me feel so good!" she said, leaning over to push her shoulder at mine.

"Apparently not," I argued. "Not if you don't want to do it again."

"I didn't say I don't want to. In fact, I said quite clearly that I do. But we can't. We're seventeen, Bobby. We have to go to college. I can't let you get me pregnant now. We have to wait."

It is impossible for me to explain how this little group of sentences affected me. But I can tell you how I interpreted them. I wasn't going to be allowed to make a baby with her now. I had to wait.

And, obviously ... that meant I would get to make a baby with her at some point in the future.

"I have a boner," I said. It just slipped out of my mouth. I have no fricking idea why. I just couldn't keep it in.

"Do you!" she said, leaning against me. "For me?"

"Of course for you," I growled. I was in control of my voice again. That part I said on purpose.

"Well ... we can't do that ... but maybe we could do something else," she said softly.

Which is how I found out what techniques Mia had used on all those guys to make their cocks soft so they would stop trying to push them into her pussy.

You might have thought that finding out Mia was my actual girlfriend, not to mention losing my virginity, would have changed my usual surly disposition into one of sunny happiness. And it should have. I mean now, when I walked with her somewhere, we held hands and brushed shoulders. And it turned out that when she liked the boy whose dick she slid into her throat, she also liked doing that, which meant I got some of the most mind-blowing blow jobs you can even imagine.

Mind-blowing.

Blow job.

And I always thought it had something to do with the girl blowing air onto the guy's dick. Huh! I guess you really do learn something every day.

Anyway, that all should have made me a happy camper, and ended my bullying days. Especially since Mia didn't like the side of me that was so dark and threatening.

And I honestly believe it would have, except that when we went back to school for our junior year, with me proudly walking beside her as my actual, real life girlfriend ... the student body dissed us both.

The bully and the slut were going together.

Now wasn't that just precious.

Mia didn't see it right away, but I did. That's because I was more used to looking at people and reading them. That's what bullies do. They look for evidence of fear and weakness, but they see other things too. Like happiness. And because bullies are rarely happy, they get a little jealous of happy people. Which fuels their desire to control. It's a vicious cycle. All I wanted, really, was to be able to be happy with my girlfriend, who I thought was the most beautiful girl in school.

But people snickered and nudged each other when they saw the two of us together. And there was nothing I could do about it, because it was psychological bullying, rather than physical bullying.