I had sex with Emma the weekend after returning to school. I was bad. Everyone knew it and everyone treated me differently, accordingly. People looked at me the same way they did following my very first transformation when I was nine, except more intensely, and I looked at them the same way I looked at those eighth graders I had to hang out with when I started dating Luanne. They were weird, tense, some sycophantic, some remote, all afraid; I was confident and poised, knowing I was different now, embracing it, knowing I was not really wanted there by everyone, but acting like I didn’t want them twice as hard. It divided people. Repelled some, brought others closer to me, including Emma.
Girls that have been forced to be good, but ones with hormones and curiosity, girls like her, have a little devil inside that can’t wait to get fucked by a bad boy, but that boy must truly be bad. You can’t be cool-light or bad-light. I wasn’t a thug or Jamal; I was nontoxic in that regard, but that was it. Otherwise, I was the baddest person she probably knew.
I picked her up that Saturday night. Luckily her parents didn’t try to meet me or anything like that. I expected a proper Mormon girl’s might. But when I pulled up to her house, she just popped out, trotted to my car, and let me step on the gas so I could drive her into adulthood or whatever.
We had planned to watch a movie together at my place. I didn’t even have to turn on the television, a small one I bought for my room with some leftover pill money. She came in, sat on my bed, and said, “Cool room.”
“It’s all right.” I turned on the radio. It was some rap song.
“Do you have surround sound?”
“Oh, I thought you were turning on the stereo for surround sound. We only watch movies with surround sound at my house.”
I sat on the bed and leaned back against the wall, my arms resting behind my head. “Might get it installed soon.”
She turned toward me. “Is this 107.3?”
“You know it.” 107.3 was this cool station out of Yakima that played rap and edgier R&B and stuff.
“I’m still not allowed to listen to this. I have to sneak it with headphones.” She laughed nervously.
I brought my arms down and shifted my weight onto one side, my body oriented toward her. “So how’d you get your parents to let you come out with me then?”
She laughed again. “Well … they don’t really know I’m with you.”
“That old trick.”
“So,” she said, leaning forward, closer. “What are we gonna watch?”
“We’re not gonna watch anything.”
“I had something more interesting in mind.” I sat up. I was the bad one and she knew what she was getting into by hanging out with me. I leaned in and kissed her. We started making out. Up goes the hand, down goes her shirt, up go her nipples, out goes the hand onto her inner thigh, down go her pants, up goes the dick, down go her panties, on goes the finger, in goes the finger, out goes her hand onto the dick, on goes the condom, in goes the dick, then out, as repeated ’til orgasm, just like that, just like how it’s done with pretty much everyone their first time.
What made fucking her different, though, was the level of wrongness involved. It was better than anal. She wasn’t any good, really (she did try I guess, got into it a little; Mormons are overachievers), but that didn’t matter, not when I knew how much I shouldn’t have been fucking her. I mean, I really, really shouldn’t have been fucking her. It made it extra hot and made me come after only about fifteen minutes. Sure, I had fucked virgins before, but never while completely sober and never someone who was a Mormon, and beyond being a Mormon by name or a Jack Mormon (cool Mormons who still partied and shit) or anything like that, this was a good girl with good morals who actually believed in her religion; she just happened to have a misplaced curiosity that I was able to take advantage of. The next day she would probably regret it to her core and think she was going to hell. The other virgins, the simple Protestant or Catholic by name preps, were all like me, looking for a thrill, a good time, and fucking them, while big for them I’m sure, didn’t compromise everything they stood for, really; they were, at most, culturally religious, even if they didn’t know it. What I did with this one had the potential to ruin her life from the inside out, and that made it amazing. I felt so much fucking power.
I blasted 107.3 as loud as my speakers could handle without ruining them as I drove her home. After I dropped her off, she never spoke to me again, would barely even look at me, which I loved.
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