I guess you could consider this story a prequel to the disaster I wrote about a few weeks ago. Is this one equally tragic? Perhaps not. Equally traumatic? Why yes, dear. Count on that.
It started in December of [year censored]. Let's not get into how old I was. That would only make this seem even more dirty than it already does. (Stop staring at the picture already!) So, I had met this boy, let's call him Thomas. We were both in band and had basically spent the entire summer flirting back and forth with each other. No, really he spend the summer flirting. I spent the whole time wondering why an upperclassman even noticed I existed. Come to find out he made a habit of blowing through each freshman class like the clap through a high school house party, so I was neither special nor a real "goal" to him. I was just something to do (more accurately, someone to tease) until I gave in and he could move to the next one. Once I figured this out, I took his teasing (grabbing me to dance in the middle of the hall, singing and playing piano for me before footballs games, making me laugh at practice) for what it was, just him being goodnatured. He was hilarious. Crazy and sexy and I wish I had known what an intoxicating combination that could be when I'd met him. I would've run so fast in the opposite direction...
Anyway, I spent most of the fall becoming his friend. Poor guy. He didn't have female friends. He had girls he had fucked, girls he was going to fuck and girls he was currently fucking. He wanted me in the first category and made no secret of it every time he saw me. The sick thing is that I wanted to. I knew he was the school slut. I knew he had slept with at least half of my friends and would sleep with most of them before he graduated. Girls in my classes compared notes on him and how he's gotten better over the years. I knew he had a girlfriend (or two) in damn near every school in the county. I actually sat next to one of his girlfriends (who looked like a popular singer) in Biology class. You'd think that would be enough for me to not want to sleep with him, but no. I'm easily talked into things.
Like my first kiss. Yes, I got it from him. Right at the beginning of December. Ooh. (Yes, I still remember the date. It was that good.) I don't know if kissing him was a good idea in the end or bad because I ended up comparing every guy I've kissed since then to him. Then again, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't know what good kissing is like or that I'm damn good at it too. I have no idea how I let him kiss me that first time, but one minute we were innocently (ha!) talking and the next he was teaching me to do things with my tongue I didn't think were possible. (Yeah it sounds corny, but I had no idea kissing could feel like that!) I kind of knew I was in trouble and thankfully someone walked in on us and broke the mood. I escaped what I knew was coming. And come it did, less than a week later.
We had just returned to the school after a performance and he asked me to walk around with him. Said he wanted to talk to me. Uh huh. I figured he just wanted to kiss me some more. I kind of ran after him with YAY!!! running through my brain. Did I mention he was sexy? I swear, Thomas is where I got my thing for skinny boys that sing and dance. That's really how he got me. He sat down at the piano one day and sang one of my favorite songs. He just--okay, I'm getting off track. But, you get the point.
We started walking around the school and he pulled me into the school's auditorium. It was nice. It looked like a theater you would see in an old movie with balconies, etc. (The building used to be a hotel.) We went onto the stage and ducked behind the curtain. This is when I should have known our encounter was going to be more than talking, but I didn't get the hint until he had me up against the wall, kissing me way more intensely than he had before and was trying to get me out of my jeans. (I kept zipping them back up and swatting his hands away.)
My mind went into panic mode. The ensuing conversation went like this:
Me: (panting between kisses) What are you doing?
Thomas: What do you think I'm doing?
Me: (moaning with his mouth on my neck) We should stop.
Thomas: Why
Me: ...
Thomas: You don't really want me to stop. (resumes kissing)
Me: (No, not really.) But, you have a girlfriend!
Thomas: Who?
Me: Deidre. (more moaning to distract from what I was trying to say.)
Thomas: Oh, her. You're not friends with her, are you? (He turns me around, pins me against the wall and starts kissing the back of my neck.)
Me: No. (Especially not now.)
Thomas: Then there's no problem.
He grabbed my breasts and I almost fell over. So then he had my hands pinned to the wall under one of his, while his other hand unzipped his pants. I felt something poking me in the back. Did I want to look? No. Did I have to look? Hell yes.
Thomas: I want you to touch me.
He grabbed my hand and put it on his dick. I started to think, it can't be that bi--then I turned around and realized why it felt like I was holding the fat end of a baseball bat. See the picture above? That was the look on my face. I didn't know whether to do a cartwheel or tell him to put his clothes back on. I should've been scared, but I wasn't. (yet.) There is nothing more intriguing for me than something very big unwrapped just for me. I really, really wanted to say yes at that point. Which brings me to the stupid thing I did.
Some time after he started to get acquainted with my hand, I asked if he had any condoms. In between kissing me, he says no. He doesn't like to wear them because they're tight. Normally, this is where I would type that all guys have said that BS at some point or another, but with this one I would imagine it's true. I told him he'd have to use one if he wanted to sleep with me. (Let me just say here that I am related to someone who taught health classes and knew more about STDs than any other teenage girl and probably a lot of adults.) I was not trying to be like the girls in my class popping out babies from random guys left and right or the one cheerleader who not-so-secretly contracted an STD she couldn't get rid of. It probably still burns when she pees.
How did he respond? He tried kissing me. I pushed him away. I started to walk away. He grabbed me from behind and tried to carry me into the bathroom just offstage. Why was he ignoring what I'd said to him? Because the bathroom is soundproof. Uh huh. Exactly. That's what he said to me. So I, who come from a fertile family, should have sex on the FLOOR of a high school bathroom, with a guy who didn't have protection AND had at least a dozen girlfriends because it's soundproof? Right, cuz no one hearing me scream is great birth control and guaranteed disease free. (I can't believe I was willing to disregard most of that if he'd had a condom, but anyway...) For a second, I thought he'd try talking me into that pullout method crap, but he didn't. He tried that seductive vibrating thing he does with his tongue again. It almost worked. Almost.
I had to push him. Hard. Twice. I walked from behind the curtain and down one of the side aisles of the theater, trying not to run back and jump him anyway. I turned around (I was such a rookie) and he was standing at the edge of the stage looking pitiful, his boxers and jeans around his knees, his dick waving goodbye (or come back). He asked me what he was going to do then. My response: "Put your clothes back on."
I thought he was going to be pissed at me, but rejection only made him more determined. No, not determined to buy a box of condoms so I'd say yes, but determined to finish his conquest his way. As in, he tried a few more times that year and the next, even trying after he was married with 3 kids when we were in college. NO, I never slept with him. In my opinion, that makes me a little stupid because I REALLY want to (still, after all these years), but he still has that hangup about condoms and I still have that hangup about getting knocked up from a one night stand.
Is it wrong that I still know his number?
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