Date: Wed, 21 Feb 2007 00:36:42 -0800 (PST)
From: Brittany Gay <tomgirlx93@yahoo.com>
Subject: Stories from the Life- A rare situation/highschool/lesbian

  Tomgirlx93@yahoo.com
  Stories from the Life- A Rare Situation
  12/26/06
  COPYRIGHT 2006
  Author's Note: My stories involve off-beat plots. Weird, even. Sometimes, if
not always, drug use. I do not contribute to the usage, nor distribution of
illegal substances. Neither do I encourage the act. I would like to say, for
legal purposes, and for those wondering if I indulge in the drugs that are/have
been listed; always keep in mind that it is only a story. A hallucination of a
writer's imagination.
  If any of these facts have concerned you strongly, please don't read beyond
the punctuation.
  *******************************************************
  I find it very hard, to share how I lost my virginity. Now, this experience
isn't one to just blush about, in a curious conversation. Whenever I have been
asked, either by a small group of people also sharing, I keep it short, and
sweet. Or even lie. Chopping, and mixing details. I probably wouldn't be
believed. Perhaps be taken for an excessive liar. Making wild shit up, to
compete with their tale(s). How could I begin such a story, though? All I can
start with is: " I was fifteen. The girl was a random, drunken-druggy tourist?
A twenty-something, rather attractive Russian girl, out with her equally
attractive, native-friends. Looking to pay for sex, just because they could."
Mouths would drop. I would hang my head. Discomfited by it all.
  I've read, and have heard, every clique, how-I-lost-my-cherry story. The
lesbian versions, anyway. They're always along the lines of: losing it to a
friend, they were madly in love with. Sometimes to just plain some girl. The
tales of losing it to a friend, of a friend, are common. None, however,
contained the content, such as mine. Their stories always end with cuddling,
and sweet kisses. Cute endings, that make me gag. Also reluctant, to fully
review. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy myself. I run the moment through my
mind, at least once a day. It even occurs in pieces, in my mind, when I do
masturbate. None of it would have happened, had I not run out, with Frankie,
that breezeless night.
  The weather felt stale, on August sixteenth. It was about 3am, in the
morning, when the situation occurred. We had snuck into a bar, earlier on, for
kicks. It was one of the exclusive yet small, gay bars in New York. We were
there on a road trip. Frankie and, her friend, Damien Lot came up with the
idea. Damien's friend Alton, whom was living with him at the time, came along.
As well as my twin sister Chris, and Frankie's girl-toy Amanda. Seventeen
straight hours of driving, left most of us beat. Frankie wasn't about to just
sit, though. I was the only other person, whom didn't crash; as soon as our
Hilton hotel room was opened. So she wasn't about to let me sleep, either. I
objected a few times, but after looking out, at the view of the city, I was
sold.
  I was always of the Dennis the Menace sort. Frankie was a friend, since grade
school. She was always the ringleader, to a mischievous plan. Even as we went
into our high school years. There were bigger messes to get into, however. Once
we thought we were getting older, than we really were. There was smoking out of
apples, in the garage, after our parents were sleep. Exchanging porn, amongst
each other. Speaking of sex, even though some of us hadn't experienced it yet.
Ditching our separate schools, to meet up at someone's house. Done at least
once a week. Usually, it was taking the train to the city, during school-hours.
Where Frankie lived. We would window-shop the high fashion. Then we would sneak
out, at night. Getting decked out, in stolen club-wear, to crash a party.
Buying fake Ids, was the best thing one could do. To get into a downtown club,
was the thing you just had to achieve. As an under-aged drinker.
  My friends were like a wing of nuisance, and I willingly walked under it.
Trouble equaled fun, as far as we knew. It couldn't be had any other way.
Damien or Frankie were the trusted guides, on the path toward planned-mischief.
I knew the sightseeing, in New York, was going to be fun. It had to be. We made
sure to find a room, on the gay-strip. Just so we were in the heart of
entertainment. Our fake Ids-regardless of our obvious, young faces-got us into
a nice pub. It was the weekend, so of course every where seemed to have a line.
There wasn't much patience between us, to wait, and get into a bar. Just for a
quick drink. So, we settled on something small, but alive. Frankie got me to
smoke a few bowls, behind a dumpster. Before working ourselves inside, the
swank pub. My brain was sailing, then. However, after a few appleteenies, and
several shots of whatever sounded exotic; I was soaring. The sheepish look,
across Frankie's face, read she felt the same. Though we were
 kids, we had a high tolerance. Not such a great fact. It gave our group
freedom to get drunker, and stupid, on those all-nighters. That's when trouble
really would boomed.
  Frankie and I agreed to keep the night short, though. Not to get too crazy
because there was plenty of that, to be done, in the following nights. So, we
spent three hours sitting at a booth. Laughing, and getting buzzed
satisfactorily. Frankie suggested we leave, when she realized the time.
  "Before the girls get to us. I would like to avoid cheating, while I'm on
this trip." She had said. Eyes lowered by inebriation.
  "I thought you weren't dating her, though. Not actually." I inquired, as
we exited the bar.
  "Well, there are still feelings involved. Stronger, on her part, anyway."
Even as teens, we had a adult-concept of dating. Or so we would think.
  As we went on to walking, I looked over at her crotch. It was something I
would do. Just to see, if she was packing. Frankie was by far the most
confident butch, I had ever met. Always smiling, and her personality very
regal. Some could easily figure her to be a bit arrogant, a tad stuck-up, and
promiscuous. She was, in fact, all of the above. I don't think anyone that
attractive can help themselves. No matter how much they contradict it. My
friend was, indeed equipped, below the waist. Carelessly tucking the dick away.
It was what made her. What enticed Amanda, whom was actually straight. She was
labeled as trade. A heterosexual, whom fools around with the same sex; when
bitten by the idea. More complex than a bisexual, to put it plainly. This
accrued most in the likes of: housewives or, in Amanda's case, bored rich-teen
bitches. Those with "trade-tendencies", were the ones, that only liked the
girls; such as Frankie. She automatically posed as a sort of poster boi, for
 baby butches. She stood a few inches taller, than the average woman,. Short,
dark hair, and blue eyes. Frame girlishly-slim. Slightly chiseled like a
guys'. Frankie was famous, for her flawless abs. Other boyish girls looked to
her, for guidance of all sorts. From fashion to the proper diet. Even advice,
about how to make their hair as healthy, and stylish as hers`.
  I then figured, even if she was going for the good-girlfriend role, that
night; perhaps she still wanted her notorious attention. I almost toppled over,
when focusing back on to the sidewalk. When my footing was stabilized, I looked
over at my reflection, in the windows of the store-fronts. I had always been a
lipstick kind of girl. My hair was always down. Damien, with his skills, kept
it styled to his image. Like a porn-star. Though make-up was never necessary, I
loved to apply it. It was fun to act as a model. Begging my mother for Dior,
and other expensive names . I drooled over designer purses. I rarely dressed
down. Even my sweats, that I wore on relaxed days, were designer. That night, I
went for the country-girl look. Just because I wanted to save my best looks,
for the latter nights. I wore a curvy, plaid long-sleeve shirt. Checked with
red, and black. It was unbuttoned just low enough, to barely show my cleavage.
Which was blooming, to my excitement,
 beautifully. The low-rise, denim skirt I was wearing ruffled slightly, at the
bottom. My smooth, womanly legs steamed from my high-heel boots. The design of
the footwear matched that of my top. I had my hair dyed, before the trip, a
rich `sienna tone. Which hung freshly styled, around my shoulders. Though sure
this outfit was hot, I started to ask Frankie how it all looked to her. As all
girls tend to ask, of their friends.
  The question was just coming to my lips, as we rounded a corner. Which lead
to a side-street. The hotel was straight ahead, in the distance. Not visible,
but we had remembered the route, we had taken earlier. That's when that dark,
imported car turned along with us. Following at the speed of our stride. The
windows were tinted heavily. Frankie looked at me, then at the car, straight
ahead, then back at me. All this before leaning over to whisper: " Is it me or
is that car following us?" She seemed very concerned.
  I didn't even want to think of it. Having my wing signal trouble, in an
unfamiliar city, made my stomach lurch. Even with my system occupied by hard
liquor, and my head full of smoke, fear still ascended. They must have been
following us a while. I had sensed so, a few minutes before. However, I ignored
the feeling. The car slowed even more, and the driver's window came down. I
think we both swallowed, as we looked over, and waited. Slightly quickening the
pace, of our steps.
  "Are you hustlers?" the girl asked.
  We stopped, and so did they.
  "What? Are you high?" fire was on Frankie's tongue.
  "Coming down, unfortunately." a voice from the back seat said.
  "Ask them if they have any shit." The passenger pushed. "I need another
roll. A few more."

  Frankie looked at me, and grabbed my hand. She needed back-up, on this one.
Usually either Damien, Chris or even Amanda would be her back-up. In sticky
situations. Things that involved fierce come-backs, along with wittiness. It
was required, in such instances, to shoo away idiots.
  "What do we look like?" I was ready for action, in that instant.
  "The streets." the driver responded.
  "Stylish, and very cute. But I'm also getting troubled, urban, youth." the
passenger leaned over, to say.
  Frankie's mouth dropped. My expression also read that I was offended. Those
had to be insults. Intoxicated, foreign girls could be the root of a bad night.
That was apparent, back home, in Chicago. They were the ones with money. In
town, from where ever they fly-in from. Out indulging in fag-hag activity.
Being a drunken mess, with their up-tight fag friends. Always straight, pretty,
and snotty. These girls were giving us that vibe. Them laughing, after our
reaction, gave me the itch to find the nearest brick, and use it well.
  "Look, I'll give you this..." the driver presented the largest hunk of
money, I had ever seen, "if you fuck this whole car."
  I blinked, and tried to wake up. Frankie tightened her grip, on my hand.
  "My friend won't stop nagging me for a fling." The pretty driver
continued.
  Her thick accent, and long eyelashes titillated me. Even when trying to hate
her. She noticed Frankie was packing. Not a straight-girl fondness. The bitch
knew exactly what she was looking for, though, even if she was straight. We
must have been it. Something wild, hot, and kinky, perhaps. However, girls or
even people like them are trash. Considered that, in our terms, anyway. Only
trash would stop someone on the street, in the twilight-hours, and offer money
for sex. While they're on hardcore drugs, and perhaps even alcoholics. We had
a knack for defining people.
  "Get the fuck outta here." Frankie moved to walk away. Pulling me along.
  "Don't be scared." The driver teased.
  This made Frankie stop. They looked at each other, for a moment. She and the
driver. Frankie pulled me close. Steering me so that my ear, was at her lips.
  "How crazy is this, right now, Ashley?" She whispered.
  "Too crazy. What's going on?" I was all messed up, in the head. Sandwiched
between fear, and curiosity.
  "Let's do it."
  "What?" I snatched my hand away. "This is that kind of random moment, you
know, that we should walk away from."
  Frankie was obviously taken, by the whole thing. Up for a challenge, as
always. I was doubting the idea, mentally. Hoping she was just speaking
drunken-thoughts. This was too good to be true. These awfully beautiful girls,
pulling up, and offering us a large amount of money, for lesbian-sex. It had to
be a trick. Only a fool would fall for such a thing. A damned fool. I was sure
of it. Plus, I was becoming incredibly shy. It was like being told you were
next to play, in a crucial basketball game, you never really practiced for.
  "I got a good feeling about this, though. It`s ok." Frankie had insisted.
  I was losing. Optimism was running low, now. I was in a situation, that
needed to be avoided. That I had some bad feeling about. I needed to talk her
out of this. It was going to be hard. However, I never objected aloud. I was
thinking of other options, to steer my friend away from that mess. I was also
slowly tossing my trust, into her hands. As I always ended up doing. Before I
knew it, we were getting into that posh, foreign car. Packed in the back, and
being driven to a deserted place. Getting felt-up, by complete strangers, along
the way. When isolation was found, there was no time wasted. The choices in
sexual tastes, were odd. The back-seat girls started the unusual, situation.
One wanted to blow Frankie's toy, while I licked her pussy. The other sat on
Frankie's face. All this in the backseat, of a Jaguar. It worked, somehow. The
girls got off quick, and hard. Driver and Passenger jerked each other off,
while watching from the front seat. The one I was doing
 spilled her cum, all over me, when she came. Licking her was staggering. I
couldn't believe I was actually doing it, finally. I shivered when her sweet
taste, and smell effected my senses. I also grasped why my friends loved this
so much. Giving a girl head. It really is incredible, I had thought. Her
response alone, was making my heart race. My body felt sunny, even though I
wasn't being stimulated. It couldn't have been the inebriants, making me feel
that way. This had to be how it really was.
  When they caught their breath, for a moment; the back-seat girls sat outside,
for a smoke. Also to make some room. The passenger let her seat all the way
back.
  "Fuck me in my ass." She demanded, of Frankie. Her accent, made the
statement sound tasteful.

  My friend wore a shocked expression, for a quick second. Kneeling on the
backseat, with her Lucky Brand jeans open. Silicone-cock sticking out 12
inches, wet with saliva. Black, ribbed tee pulled behind her neck. Lips glossy,
from the one girl's wetness. I was even turned on, by the sight. Frankie
slipped on a condom, as the Passenger positioned herself on the seat. Face
toward the floor, with her nicely-formed ass up. My thong was becoming slicker,
just watching. The girl's swollen pussy was glistening, even in the darkness,
of the car's interior. It was mouth-watering, and I was picturing Frankie
sinking into it. Fucking her like a boy. I started stroking myself, as The
Driver slid into the back. She positioned my back against the door. My thong
was off, with one aggressive- glide. Before I could prepare myself. The girl
opened my shirt, and unsnapped the front clasps of my bra. My nipples perked
out, when the air brushed my chest. She sucked them forcefully. Licking,
 and biting. Pulling with her teeth, till they couldn't stretch anymore. The
stirring in my cunt amplified. Lips were touching my bare skin, for the first
time. Pleasuring and hurting me. My body went into shock. The feeling startled
me, and I tried pushing her away. However, The girl was much too ravenous, for
that game. She pinned my arms behind me, and covered my vulva, with her mouth.
I yelped, when a flash struck me, like lightening. Hitting my brain, like a
pain. Her lips wrapped around my clit. Sucking so hard, it hurt. The skin of my
bud, was sliding between her teeth. It was abnormally gratifying, none the
less. I was half crazy, from this new sensation, carrying out in my nervous
system. Scrambling my thoughts, more worse than a drug.
  As four fingers sank into me, I watched Frankie pound the other girl. I
recalled grunts of difficulty, a few moments ago. I had heard the girl refuse
lube, when Frankie popped open the small bottle. She had it, in her pocket. How
prepared, I thought, for trying to be loyal. The girl was taking the dick well,
though. Groaning and begging Frankie to go harder, and faster. Frankie did fuck
her extremely. My orgasm climbed, as the driver finger-fucked, and sucked me. I
was being pumped with so much rapture, I almost couldn't stand it. When she
came up to kiss me in the mouth, that's when The Girl noticed company, in the
distance. She continued fucking me, even when focusing on the distant
headlights. I squealed, kicked my legs, and bounced on her fingers, as I came
suddenly. This was just before her saying: "Someone's coming." Sharply
addressing this to her friend.
  "I am." The other girl grunted. Though it was kind of sexy, her taking it
up the ass, it appeared quite painful.
  "No. I see someone driving in. Over there."
  But her friend kept moaning, and receiving Frankie's thrusts ecstatically.
  "It's the police, you fool!" Her friend said, climbing back into the
driver's seat.
  "Don't stop." The passenger warned, when Frankie tried pulling out. "Let
me cum. I'm almost there."
  The other two had also spotted the car, slowly coming our way. We were
hidden, by stacked freight-trailers. Though the person approaching probably
couldn't see us, they were still zeroing in. The others jumbled to get into
the car. Causing me to drunkly topple out, when they opened my door. The
passenger-girl rubbed herself vigorously, and finished. Nothing was going to
stop her from that. Then, again, Frankie tried pulling the toy out. It was all
the way in.
  This is where it got crazy.
  "Shit. It's stuck." she announced.
  "What?!?" The driver looked over.
  "Open up. Stop being greedy!" One of the others shouted.
  "I can't. It won't now. "
  By the way Frankie was pulling back, I could see how jammed they really were.
When taking it out by her hand, the best she could, wasn`t working; the other
girls tried. Pulling Frankie by her hips. The Passenger was grunting out in
pain, that time. Then, somehow, they managed to slip Frankie out of the
harness. After five seconds of trying, the other way. They tossed her and our
clothes, out of the Jag, and drove away. Leaving us there to deal with that
mysterious car. All of this happening, in a matter of seconds.
  It was indeed a cop. We were able to hide, though. We waited until the pig
was out of sight. When the sound of his wheels, fully disappeared, we dressed.
Frankie lit a cigarette, as we made our way out of the yard. I was speechless,
and so was she. As Frankie went to put her lighter in her pocket. Then her hand
hit something, that she hadn't noticed before. I looked over, and there was
the promised wad of money. It seemed to weigh down her hand. Both of our eyes
popped out.
  "How did it get there?" I asked, never recalling Frankie taking the cash.
  " One must have stuffed it there, at some point. I don't remember." She
smiled, with a coy twinkle in her eye. "I still would have done it, for
free."
  "After all of that?"
  She just laughed, and laughed. Then I laughed. That's when the pain in my
pelvis, struck me.
  "You ok?" Frankie asked. "What's wrong?"
  It was evident, in my walk.
  "She was shoving her whole hand, into me."
  "Ow. Bet you feel like a virgin, right now."
  "I am. Well..."
  "What?" Frankie stopped walking, seizing my arm. "I didn't know that. I
would have never-"
  "I thought you knew."
  "I figured you were keeping it to yourself. For whatever reason."
  "Well, how come you've never asked?"
  Frankie puffed deep, on the Marlboro. "Because virginity, especially for a
girl, is a very sacred thing. You are never entitled to tell anyone, unless you
want to. It's your business." She could get poetically insightful, when
answering a question.
  I was known to be sensuous. Considered slutty even. Obviously, it was assumed
I had given it away, already. We were all overly sexed kids, thirsty for other
girls. Making ourselves look as scandalous as possible, to attract a quick
fuck, on party-nights. It was everyone's main goal. Even if they didn't say
so. There were some of us that fucked, and let everyone know about it. Then
there were some of us, whom keep the experiences reserved. Even if people
already did know.
  The next day, I was bursting with a strange elation. My eyes felt wider, and
my body free. The whole experience left me renewed. Though there wasn't such a
sweet ending, of cuddling and kisses; I didn't feel used. I had other ideas,
of how I would have lost my virginity. That experience, being nothing I had
ever dreamed of, served as a congenial surprise. The following days were spent
on shopping, and clubbing. As we had planned, in the first place. Frankie told
the others, that she had found the money. I served as the "trusted-witness".
It was hard looking Amanda in the face, even though, and even still I don't
like her. Damien started a moral-lecture, though. However, when Frankie evenly
gave everyone a split, he shut up. I can't remember exactly how much was
there, but it all got blown on that trip.
  Yeah, I do sort of clam-up, when asked about this raunchy experience. This
has only been shared, with my closet friends. That way it should probably stay.
I don't think anyone else could handle it.
  End.