Donna is such a total slut, I swear to God. At the beginning of our senior year, in sociology class, she signed our high school’s chastity pledge right along with me and a bunch of the other girls we hang out with. The pledge said that all of us would remain virgins until our wedding nights.
So what happened? The weekend after Donna’s eighteenth birthday, she let half the football team fuck her while her parents were out of the house. Okay, so maybe it was only three guys who fucked her, but what mattered was the principle of the thing.
When I confronted her, she said that all bets were off as soon as she hit the big one-eight, as far as she was concerned. She called me a naive little girl, even though she was only a month older than me. What bugged me more than her breaking her promise was the fact that one of the guys who had nailed her was a guy that I had hoped would ask me to the prom. What a bitch she is! God, I just hate her!
My own eighteenth birthday rolled around last week. I had really mixed feelings about the occasion. I liked finally being an adult, sure. But I wondered if Donna might have been right to break that stupid chastity pledge. I felt like maybe I was being a tight-assed prude by denying myself the kind of fun that Donna was having.
After I showered and dried off the next morning, I stared in the bathroom mirror for a long time, doing some very heavy thinking. I had woken up early enough that I had plenty of time to get to school. Plus the door was locked, so I didn’t have to worry about my parents or my kid brother busting in on me.
All I had on was a fresh pair of white cotton panties. I smoothed my hands down the sides of my body. I was better-looking than Donna, easy. Neither of us had very big boobs, but mine had a lot nicer shape, the way they kind of curved out from underneath. I stared at them awhile. I cupped my breasts from underneath with both hands, pushing them up.
I had seen guys checking out my boobs plenty of times. I knew that all of them wanted to fuck me. Why shouldn’t they? I looked pretty great, if I did say so myself. I hunched my shoulders forward and pressed my breasts together, forming some really impressive cleavage. That asshole quarterback Richie probably had been fantasizing about me while he was screwing Donna on her parents’ bed. His loss!
I imagined his mouth on my tits, sucking them. I wondered how big his penis was. I rolled my stubby little nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, feeling them stiffen. They turned redder too. I felt beautiful and sexy and hot.
My pussy started feeling warm and tingly while I played with my boobs. I slipped a hand inside the thick elastic waistband of my panties, so I could touch myself.
Richie would just love to get a look at my pussy. I didn’t have much hair down there–not the kind of thick, springy bush that I saw between Donna’s legs whenever we changed for gym. What I had was more like the wispy, almost invisible blonde hairs on the backs of my arms. Unless you looked really close, you would think I still was completely bare.
I slipped a finger in my slit, thinking about that creep Richie. The button at the top of my pussy lips was like a hard little pea. I made circles around it with my fingertips. When I dipped my middle finger in my opening, it came out all wet and slippery. I pushed my finger in deeper. My hole was so tiny that I wondered how I ever would be able to fit a big, hard penis inside of it. If I had not been so pissed off at Donna, I would have asked her what it had been like to lose her cherry.
“Penis”–I repeated the word in my mind as I rubbed myself between the legs and tugged on my budding nipples. I wanted to see a real penis so much, a beautiful penis, a hard penis that would plunge inside me and make me cry out with pleasure. What I wanted was a penis of my own. I really, really wanted one.
I wanted Richie’s penis. I wanted him to fuck me and make me a woman.
I had to hold on to the edge of the bathroom sink to keep from collapsing when I started to come. I was glad that my family was all downstairs, where they could not hear the whimpering sounds I made. My fingers were soaked with juice from my hot, tender little pussy. My pretty boobs were covered in sweat, making them glisten. My panties were a mess.
That was when I made up my mind. I was eighteen years old, a mature adult woman. I was not going to live by some stupid chastity pledge that I had made when I was just a seventeen-year-old child. I threw back my shoulders and looked at myself in the mirror.
Watch out, Donna, you nasty slut, you’re about to get some real competition!–B.R., Laramie, Wyoming