Chapter 7
About the start of the spring semester I met Jim. He was enough to make me forget all about the ugly memories of the rape. He had just transferred from a school in San Diego and all the girls in school just flipped out for him. He wasn't very tall, but he had a nice lean build, and the most adorable face. He was real smooth and you could tell that he'd been around for a guy of sixteen.
And the amazing thing was-he flipped for me, out of all the other girls in our school. Of course, I was filling out in all the right places and was looking pretty good myself. But unless you get that kind of reciprocation from someone else, you can forget about things like that, especially when your on a downer like I was after the thing with the rapist, that guy in the orange grove... remember? I I thought I'd gotten that point across.
Oh, I'd gotten lots of attention from other guys, but they were just the old gray faces in the crowd that didn't mean all that much to me. Even the halfway decent ones were a stone bummer to me, even the guy I balled. But this guy Jim was something else again.
So when he asked me out, one day after a history class we had together, I flipped. I don't mean that he asked me out for right after the history class, but for the weekend. I counted the days until Friday: one... that was it. For he'd asked me out on Thursday.
We went to a flick, and he didn't waste any time coming on strong. I fended him off, a practice I was getting into those days, but not enough to turn him off. Just enough to let him know I wasn't any pushover, but not enough to make him think I wasn't interested.
We ended up heading for a lonely spot in the Hollywood Hills to do some parking. It gave me a bit of a creepy feeling to be parking with a guy like that in a remote area ... I mean the rapist memories flashed. Even Chris up at the house and all. But his kisses soon melted all that away. Before I knew what was happening, he'd stripped me off and we were going at it.
He was good, but he left me hanging. I faked it, not wanting to turn him off. This was the first time I'd faked an orgasm for anyone, but I was interested in him and wanted to please him. I don't know what happened, but somehow the thing that'd been happening since the rapist came up in my mind and I just couldn't let myself relax enough to get behind it. Besides that, Jim, for all his bravado, was pretty fast and rough. He was good at the actual screwing, but he didn't fool around too much with preliminaries.
Little did I know that by faking it, I was practicing something I'd be doing a lot when I started turning tricks. But little would I have suspected that I'd be turning tricks in the months to come.
I faked it though because I wanted to go out with him again. Not making it that first time didn't freak me too much. After all, I had a lot of rationalizations to go through in my head- the rape, the fact that he'd been so quick. But I was a bit freaked about it all the same. If I hadn't been so drawn to him in a romantic way, I don't think I could have handled it.
But the next time nothing happened, and when I asked him to finish me off with his tongue, he just sat up and threw this whole macho trip on me.
"Baby, if you can't make it from my cock, then something's wrong with you."
He said that he dug eating pussy, but that he'd be the one to decide when and where. It instantly led me to write him off. I put my clothes on and told him to take me home.
"When I'm ready," he smiled sideways in the way that only guys who are really hung up on themselves can do.
"You know where you're at?" he went on.
And he proceeded to lay this nickel-dime philosophy on me, telling me all about what was wrong with me, trying to get into my head, ending with this line about how I really needed him to straighten me out.
Fat chance.
But I didn't give him too much hassle. I just wanted him to get me home. After that, I never went out with him, but he was always pinning me in class, as if to let me know that he was king shit and knew where I was really at. I was really at a breaking point and knew it. About that time, I started thinking about Gwen. She seemed to be the only person who really knew where I was at.
Then the phone rang and it was her!
"Man, you must be psychic," I told her.
I poured out my troubles to her, saying I'd really like to get together and all. She told me that she wanted to see me, but that every weekend it seemed that I was out with some guy, and she was putting in a lot of hours at work during the week. So it was arranged that I'd go down to spend the night with her that Saturday.
It was fine with Mom, as she liked Gwen, so Gwen picked me up in a new car and we went down to her place.
"Must be making a lot of money at your new job," I said naively.
"I do alright," she smiled.
We must have rapped for about an hour there in the cozy livingroom of her apartment in Hollywood. Somehow, the conversation finally turned to guys, and I began to confess, encouraged by the killer dope we were smoking, that things were really all fucked up since the night with the guy in the grove.
"I can dig it," she said, shaking her head as she passed me another joint. "But don't think it's just him. I mean, you'd be surprised at how many guys are really rotten fuckers. Not all of them, thank God for that. But there's more of them that are real bastards than good guys, I can tell you. You'd better resign yourself to that fact. Only another woman can really make you feel good."
I was astounded by her remark, and gave a half-smile as if she must be joking. But she just stared at me intently, letting the statement sink in.
"Have I ever bullshitted you?" she asked, eyeing me firmly enough to make me squirm.
"You mean..." I gulped, "you make it with other girls?"
"Have for a long time, Honey," she smiled without a blink. "Oh, there's still nothing like a man, a good man. But with a woman it's different, softer somehow. It's hard to explain if you've never done it."
"Er... no," I put in.
My head was swimming. I'd never figured Gwen to be like that. I'd never really given much thought to girl-girl sex before, but I'd heard enough to get the stereotyped impression that all girls who like girls dressed in men's trousers and taught P. E.
"I'd like to find out," I finally managed, surprised at myself for letting the words slip out.
It was as if an inner voice had jumped out of me. But I really felt close to Gwen, and I didn't want to pass quick judgement on her about something like this even though the thought of it was strange to me. But Gwen wasn't any joker, she was a good looking chick that attracted many men. I just sat and shifted my weight on the couch after I'd let those words slip out, not sure if I wanted to take them back or what. So what if I didn't understand ... maybe I wouldn't be able to go through with it, as it did scare me. But it appealed to me in a way at the same time, although I'd never been aware of it until that moment. After all, practically every other thing I'd liked I'd been warned against, by my mother or someone else-sex, drugs, name it.
"There's no moment like the present," Gwen said to me, answering the question after what seemed like forever, but it had just been a few seconds, my mind racing over all that shit bottled up in there quickly.
"I just hope that it's okay ... that it turns out to be good, I just..."
"Relax," she told me, trying to pierce through my all too obvious anxiety. "I've never led you wrong before have I? So you either like it or you don't. But there's only one way to find out whether you're pro or con about something and that is to try it out."
I couldn't argue with her logic.
I let her do the leading since she was the only one who knew the steps to this tango. She moved close to me, soothing my fears with her soft voice. Suddenly she kissed me on the lips, and I felt a sudden tingle go up and down my spine. It felt so different, and yet so much the same as kissing a guy. I had to forget that she was a girl, but at the same time I couldn't divorce the fact from my mind. In feeling, it was like with a guy, but the psychological part of her being a girl really got to me and, surprisingly, made it seem all that much better. I guess it was that old thing about forbidden fruit tasting better.
My fears melted away as she circled her hand around my waist and pressed her lips more closely to mine. I found myself opening my mouth wide so that her tongue could snake in, tracing patterns on the roof of my mouth. It was heavenly! My tongue lashed out at hers, my body squirming as we Frenched on the couch.
And then she was unbuttoning my blouse, then unsnapping my bra. Her tongue went down to trace crazy circles around the buds, causing them to harden in anticipation. She was so much more gentle than any guy that I'd ever been with, and she was really sending me on a trip.
"Mmmmm," I breathed, relaxing. "That feels so good."
She lifted her head. "Just wait till I eat out your little box if you think this is good."
Then she went about making my other tit all hard and good feeling. She popped the nipple in and out of the pillow of flesh until I could hardly stand it.
"Oh, please," I cried, frantically, "I can't wait for it any longer, Gwen. Eat my pussy out for me, eat me. I can hardly stand it."
She gave me a wink that said 'I told you so,' then began tugging down my jeans. After that, she stripped off my panties and I spread my legs to give her good access.
Man, I can hardly describe what it felt like when she ate me out. Her tongue was like magic-Christmas and the Fourth of July all wrapped up in ore. She dipped that tongue into my pussy, rolling her tongue so that the edges met, and worked it in and out like a cock. But when she moved up my labia to suck my clit into her mouth, I almost went off right then. She popped it into her mouth and began bobbing it around, sucking with her teeth and lips.
"Yiiiiiiieeeeee," I found myself screaming as I reached the peak.
But she didn't let me off with that. No, she just kept sucking and licking at my love button until I was limp, sending me higher and higher. It was my first multiple orgasm, and it left me drained.
Later, she showed me how to eat her out, and it was just as much a thrill to stick my tongue up her pussy as it had been for her to do it to me. Especially when it came down to the fact that we were sixty-nining. It took me awhile to learn how to hold onto her clit with my mouth, it being so small and slippery, but she assured me that I was an expert.
As we relaxed in her bed afterwards, we talked about it, and I just couldn't get over the fact that I was so turned on by it. It was as if I'd never really lived before. Man, I'd been missing the boat.
"I didn't want to do it to you until I thought you were ready," she smiled. "Although it's been hard holding myself in check all this time."
"I wish you would've hipped me sooner," I told her, thinking of the bad time I'd had with guys lately.
"Yes," she agreed, "but if you hadn't gone out and found out about how rotten some guys -most guys can be, you'd have never had any- thing to compare it with. Now you really know."
I couldn't argue with her. But there was no more time for talk. She'd taken her vibrator out and had stuck it up my pussy, rubbing herself off against me while we kissed. Another first. That thing really hummed me off. Then I used it on her, as she explored my ass with her fingers, teaching me yet another form of sex. Man, I'd been a virtual girl scout up until this night with Gwen.
I lay back dreamily on the bed, talking with her again, feeling so close to her now, closer than I ever had to anyone.
"You must be making lots of money from that job," I asked again. "Working all those hours."
"Oh," she laughed. "That's not from that job, honey. Not at night. Remember how I told you that men are good for something? Well, I find them very useful when it comes to money. A guy paid for that car. A lot of my clothes came from other guys. They're useful that way. I couldn't begin to pay for the rent with my regular job."
She winked, letting the words sink in on me.