The Kiss
Copyright© 2025 by EroticScribbler
Chapter 9
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 9 - A teenage girl who feels like she needs to practice risky behavior puts herself in a terrifying situation that makes her question everything, including whether or not she deserved what happened to her while exposing herself in public. What she finds changes her life forever. WARNING: Brutal Rape Scene. The story is not about rape, but something else. From the best-selling author of Potential and Attic Voyeur: The Incest Next Door.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft Coercion NonConsensual Rape Heterosexual Fiction Crime Humiliation Rough Interracial Black Male White Female Anal Sex Cream Pie Oral Sex Violence
“Sally, damn, that’s over the top, even for you,” Anna said.
I jerked so hard the water splashed my face and ran down the front of my body, pooling at my feet. “Shit, oh Shit.” I stared at the tile behind the faucet.
The sound of my sister’s hand whacking my butt registered in my sluggish brain before I felt the slap. “Are you crazy?”
“What, you never walk around without pants when you think nobody is home?” I kept staring at a spot on the wall.
“Yeah, but I don’t drive around like that,” Anna said. “I saw you from my window, and anybody could have seen that big sexy booty of yours hanging out. What were you thinking?”
“Where’s your car?”
“It shit the bed on my way back from school. I left it, but who cares? Look at me. Tell me what happened to you?”
My sister’s choice of words, what happened to you, triggered the tears that I swore I wasn’t going to cry. “Nothing.” I dashed left, but the almost six-foot college volleyball player easily blocked the attempt. “Sally, look at me.”
Not now, I thought, not ever. “Nothing, I gotta go.”
My sister stopped me in my tracks. I looked up, and those compassionate, loving emerald eyes met mine. Tears rolled down my cheeks. My idol wrapped her arms around me and held me like no one else ever does.
Her mother, my stepmother, is great, and I love her, but my sister has always been my go-to person for emotional healing. She held me when my first boyfriend dumped me in sixth grade. She guided me through puberty and gave me the talk. When I lost my cherry, it was Anna who I told.
My big sister had been there for everything and anything important, but nobody can ever hear this. I broke free and ran for my room. She didn’t chase me. I knew she’d respect my need to be alone, for now, anyway.
I flung the hoodie, dove on the bed, covered up, and assumed the position that every girl knows, curled up on my side with a body pillow in front and between my legs. The sobbing started and rolled through my body.
After ten minutes, I hadn’t cried myself to sleep, so I was stuck with the constant chatter inside my head, along with the slow-motion mental replays. They gave me a revelation that horrified me. None of my boyfriends had ever given me an orgasm, yet two strangers raped me, and I remember getting off at least twice.
It made me nauseous, and the self-loathing increased. Where can I go from here? I’ll end up being a cheating wife or even a teacher who fucks teenage students because I need a thrill. I’m doomed to a life of risky behavior or unfulfilling sex.
The bed moved. “Anna, what are you—”