Chapter 8

We came up with some plans for how to avoid dangerous situations, and how to cope with them when they did happen - but nothing ever goes according to plan. The first time I got vanilla’d in the new school year, I was using the bathroom between classes. I guess the janitorial crew had switched air freshener brands, and this bathroom had become vanilla-scented over the weekend. I tried to text Stacy when I felt it coming on - rule number one was to let someone know - but I only got as far as “I think I” before my brain jumped track and started looking for men.

The passageways between buildings were largely empty - everyone had gone into the classrooms - but there were a few upperclassmen standing next to a van out in the parking lot. I swayed my hips as I approached them; when I got close they stopped talking to each other and fixed their attention on me. They were pot-heads, obviously ditching class to get high. Two of them were fairly nice looking: one tan and blond like a surfer; the other looked sorta heavy metal, with his hair in a top-knot. The third was fat and sweaty. The last one looked prematurely old, like the junkies in the anti-drug ads.

“Hello, guys!” I said, and unhooked my bra under my shirt. “If I take off my top, which one of you do you think will get hard fastest?”

Metal-boy answered, “An excellent question, my dear. Why don’t you join us in the parlor where we can discuss it further?” The van was thick with pot smoke; my eyes stung and I coughed at my first taste of it. Immediately the boys were undressing me, as well as removing their own pants. Fat-boy took me first: he was sitting on the bench and pulled me onto his lap, facing away from him. He cupped my boobs while I bounced on his cock. Surfer-boy stole a kiss until metal-boy pushed him out of the way and flopped his dick in my mouth.

Fat-boy came. I was getting pretty close myself and I didn’t want to lose my momentum, so I said, “Someone else fuck me now, please.” Surfer-boy positioned me on my hands and knees while I continued to suck off metal-boy, and shoved his noticeably-larger-than-normal dick in my pussy. Anything that we had discussed in therapy about what I should be thinking or doing at this moment was completely lost to me. At the time, I was glad to be in that smoky van, fucking those boys. My body had demanded sex, and it was rewarding me with warm fuzzy feelings in my soul, on top of the orgasm that I knew was just a few thrusts away. I moaned loudly as I came, which motivated metal-boy to pull out of my mouth and shoot his jizz in my face.

Junkie-boy took his turn at my mouth. The come from my face got all over his belly, causing him to say, “Dude, could you try to be more considerate?” Metal-boy laughed mockingly. I sucked junkie-boy while surfer-boy continued to pulsate inside me, making me feel fuller than I ever had.

“So what’s your name, dear lady?” Metal-boy asked.

“I’d rather not say,” I articulated through a mouth full of cock. Fat-boy wasn’t content with that, though. He started rummaging through my bookbag and wallet.

“Kaitlyn Ford, sophomore,” fat-boy read from my school ID. “Nice to meet you, Kaitlyn. Do you always ditch classes for gang-bangs, Kaitlyn? You’re such a good jizz-extractor, Kaitlyn.”

I started to moan again: surfer-boy’s pounding was really doing it for me. He moaned in answer, and increased his speed. “God, this girl just can’t get enough!” fat-boy observed.

“Yeah, she’s a ho,” junkie-boy said.