Chapter 4

In the days that followed, Stacy still wouldn’t talk to me, or acknowledge me at school. That’s when I started to think of myself as a slut. What other explanation was there for the things I was doing?

I had always been sure that I was going to do it right: get a boyfriend, fall in love, and have lots of monogamous teen-aged hormone-fueled sex. I certainly never had any expectations of waiting until I was married, or even college. My parents didn’t either: my family was pretty open and realistic about sex. When I was younger I never had a problem asking my mom to explain a dirty joke or song lyrics, and she would never hesitate to tell me. When I was twelve, my mom and I even spent a week singing a dirty Liz Phair around the house all the time as an inside joke. (“Give me your hot white come...”) The only rules my parents had put on me, for when I became sexually active, were: use protection; don’t be impulsive; and be honest with myself about my choices.

Well, I had certainly thrown the first two rules out the window. As for honesty? I couldn’t deny what I had done, so all I could do was try to reason why. What I came up with was that I was eager to have sex, and that I didn’t care much about with whom or what people thought.

Once I accepted this mindset, it was freeing. I started reacting more positively to attention from boys at school, and pretty soon I was going on frequent dates. Vic took me home one day after school and played his guitar for me. He was singing to me. I knew that he probably did that with lots of girls, but it still made me feel special. We made out, and he gave me my first ever hickey, on top of my left boob. Then he fucked me on the battered old couch in his basement. It was a lovely experience.

After a movie and dinner, Josh sketched my face in charcoal. I made him come in his underwear just by playing with his balls, looking him in the eyes, and whispering dirty talk. He said I had the sexiest whisper he had ever heard. He wanted to sketch my entire body, nude, but I wouldn’t let him, so he settled for just my butt as I lay on his bed, face down. Once he finished drawing me, he tried to mount me like that. I was willing, but for some reason he couldn’t get hard, so instead he finger-banged me into next week.

Marco, a junior, took me out into the desert for a picnic under the stars. After the meal we kissed and discussed the constellations with some jazz playing on his iPod. We had sex in the bed of his pickup truck: me on top, my body pressed flat against his sliding forward and back for penetration, with a thick wool blanket covering us. We were both so satisfied that we fell asleep like that. We still got home in time to avoid upsetting my parents.

As I started to get a reputation, and sometimes see the same boys again, our time together became less like dates and more like hookups. That was okay - I was definitely enjoying the sex and attention, and I convinced myself that I reveled in the rumors. One day one boy - I think it was Tom? - asked if I “take requests”. He had seen a porno where the girl was fucked while doing a handstand, and he really wanted to try it. He knew that I had been on the gymnastics team before the car accident, so he figured it would be easy for me. I asked him to show me the video, and we watched it together, talking about how we were going to do it. That was pretty hot. Sure enough, soon he had me upside-down and was jackhammering me into the ground with his cock. It wasn’t the best sex, really, but we were both glad to be able to say we had done it.

After that it became standard for boys to ask me for scenes from pornos. I guess the guys all talked to each other about me. Most of the time I was happy to try - it made things more fun. Legs pinned behind my shoulders? Sure! Do the splits while I blow you? I can do that! Take your whole sack into my mouth? Worth a try! Put on a show with a banana? Glad to, just no pictures! I wouldn’t do everything they asked, of course: nothing involving peeing, or animals, for instance. I also wouldn’t do anal, no matter how much they asked, and I didn’t understand why any woman would. It seemed to me like a denial of my basic femininity: why would you want to stick your dick in a butthole when there’s a perfectly good pussy right there, that was essentially made for that purpose?