FIRST TRAIN

NOTE: This is autobiographical. I've changed names, and some minor details. This is something I wrote about twenty years ago. I was writi

NOTE: This is autobiographical. I've changed names, and some minor details. This is something I wrote about twenty years ago. I was writing then about things I'd done and gone through about ten years before. I admit was a bit messed up. For the record, I don't want to be accused of child porn, so I was over eighteen when this happened. Eighteen or nineteen. And when I talk about school, obviously, I'm talking about college. If the me in the story seems younger, I was a late bloomer. If you decide I was some other age, that's on you.

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In school, I was sexually precocious. I’d gone from zero like everyone else, to sixty. Gone from naive and horny to worldly and horny.

And at first, it made me popular. Everyone was young and hormonal, insanely desperate for sex, but terrified, steeped on a diet of pornography and expectations and terrors. I think adults don’t really understand. But when you’re young and new and looking... it’s all extreme.

You have extreme prudishness, where you even see a nipple and people go nuts, extreme pornography, extreme advertising, Everything about sex in the world around us is just this terrifying high volume hardcore. I mean, we were growing up with porn, and there was no way we could even approach half that shit, the men were all six packs and Olympic cocks, the women all boobs, and they did all kinds of shit. Look at advertising and movies, everything was sexualized to this epic level, all the women fashion models, the men James Bond or Shwarzenegger, those were the fucking expectations. The world was made for stars and super-achievers who had already achieved. And here we were all struggling with zits and navigating periods. Half of us didn’t even know where the clit was, and I’m not talking about the guys.

There’s no moderation, there’s no reasonable gentleness to it, or how to navigate it. Instead, just everything is contradictory, and extreme and blasting at max volume, and it’s all contradictory. We were being shot out of cannons into the deep end of the swimming pool and it was so fucked.

Sex is terrifying, and alluring, and you just don’t know what the fuck to do about this thing you want to badly, but it’s all wrapped up in extreme hyper-bullshit. We were just trying to navigate, all of us.

So someone like me comes along, and she's genuinely sexually experienced, and not just fumbly fucks, sophisticated stuff! She ‘knows things’ she’s worldly. She does it, and she’s cool with it.

I was popular.

I mean, I was popular with boys, obviously. But I was especially popular with girls. I remember early on being in a bathroom with a half dozen girls, spending an hour just talking about it, answering questions.

Half the girls didn’t even know they had a clitoris, the other half didn’t know what it was called.

I felt like a superhero or something. At least for a while, before it turned bad.

And it turned bad fast.

The thing was, even if I was sexually worldly, I was still a girl. Raging hormones didn’t just make for tits and horniness.

It made for emotions. The thing I remember most was how powerful the emotions were, how out of control. If I was upset I sobbed uncontrollably. If I had a crush, I was over the moon. Everything was just raw and powerful. Friendships, enemies, love, hate, you name it.

I had a crush.

His name was Peter. I don’t even know why I had a crush. I just did. It was just where I landed. Infatuation is a crazy thing. I thought about him constantly. I wrote his name down endlessly in my notebook, making little hearts and doodles. I followed him around like a puppy. He had a small group of friends he hung out with. There was Tommy, Lyle, I think maybe Jerry. I did my best to ingratiate myself with them, pushily trying to be one of the gang. I had a big smile any time he was around.

I simpered.

I concocted elaborate fantasies and daydreams of us doing stuff together. Normal stuff, going to concerts, restaurants, sports games, doing homework together, him coming over to meet my parents, getting married, having children, vacations to landmarks together. The sort of daydreams it’s embarrassing to admit to from years later.

And yes, I masturbated to him at night, alone in my room. I whispered his name as I frigged myself into quiet little orgasms in my room with my posters and teddy bears and girl stuff, across the hall from Mom and Dad..

I would whisper his name when I masturbated.

I was so stupid.

That’s painful to look back on now, worse to admit, I was so naive and just... stupid. It just hurts to see me back then.

Anyway, here’s how it went.

There was this park. It wasn’t much of a park, the city didn’t really give a shit, so it got all overgrown. But the nice thing was, it was mostly woods, with trails and these little places you could hang out. In my time, all the kids went there to get laid or get high or just drink without getting bothered. Big hang out site.

Of course, it turned into a gay cruising zone after. Then the meth heads and needle babies got there and some crimes happened. Then the city got up in arms, and they cleaned the place up. Then the homeless moved in, so now it’s tent country. But all that is after.

We were all a lot more innocent then. Back in those days, it was just a place to hang out, smoke some joints, make out and maybe cop a feel or get a handjob.

Peter and his buds went there every time they could score some weed, or get someone to buy them a sixpack. And me, madly in love, totally infatuated, hanging on Peter’s every word, I’d invite myself along.

It was pretty pedestrian. There was this spot where someone had dragged some bench seats from old cars, old couch, dead furniture, so we’d all hang out there sprawling around, passing a joint and drinking beer, having stupid inane conversations about this or that: The latest movie, or who was being a prick at school, or the rugby game, or whatever.

I’d be there, plastered right up against Peter, trying to offer something, giggling too hard, whenever someone said anything half clever. Wanting to be part of the group, but also wanting the rest of them to fuck off so I could stick my tongue down his throat.

I remember there was a little fire pit, and it seemed to get used by someone. Sometimes when we went, there'd be fresh ashes. But none of us were ever even half-assed enough to make a campfire. We talked about it, but it never got further than talking. We brought marshmallows once, but we got the munchies and ate them all before we got around to making a fire. Then high and giggly, we realized, it would be bad fucking idea to start a fire when we were already baked.

You know what? I’m smiling a little remembering. It was all innocent and harmless. Even if I didn’t really belong with the group, at least they were okay with my presence. I was an honourary member of the gang. I’ll take that, considering how it all turned out later.

I remember every time we went out there, after they’d drop me off, I’d rush up to my bedroom to masturbate like crazy.

Fuck, I was such a horny little mink back then.

Anyway, I wasn’t with them when Tommy found the mattress in the bushes. I think it was Tommy. I don’t know what I was doing, some family shit. Otherwise I would have been there with them, trying to become a conjoined twin with Peter. I think Tommy went for a piss and got a little lost. I don’t really know.

There was all sorts of shit out there. Shopping carts. There was an old VW van, half sunk in, rusting away. There was a little shack made of wooden pallets, some kids clubhouse. So a mattress? Who the fuck knows.

Next time I was out, I insisted they show it to me. It wasn’t much, like a single bed mattress, maybe kid size. It looked a little ratty. It was off in this little tree covered glade, even in daylight, it was shaded. I guess someone had dragged it out for naps. Who fucking knows?

We took a look, went ‘okay’ and back to the hang out. But I’ll tell you, when I saw it, my horny little brain went into overdrive.

The thing is, when you’re young, you’re horny as fuck. But there’s no place! There’s no safe place! Home, there’s no privacy, you can’t have a boy up to your room, and if mom and dad are out, you can’t count on them not showing up out of the blue. There’s the mall, there’s school, there’s lots of places to go. But the only private places are gross, and even the private spots, there’s no privacy. It’s all really fucked, its insane to be that horny, and there’s just no good places.

Peter and I, by that time, we’d french kissed, and he’d felt my boobs. One time I jerked him off, and showed him my pubic hair. Once, I blew him. But it was just so hard and hasty. I know that sounds crazy. And I didn’t just want to just get fucked, I was in love, and horny as I was, I wanted it to be special.

So mattress, out in the open air, some secluded glade, light filtering through the trees. Romantic, that seemed romantic to me. It seemed like it could be special. I was stupid. I just wanted... Something. I mean, I understood sex, but I wanted.... I felt... love? Orchestral music? Something like the movies, or romance novels my Aunt used to read. It was just fucking infatuation.

You want to know something that hurts, that took years to realize?

I was infatuated with Peter. But he wasn’t infatuated with me. There, I said it. He didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t realize, I didn’t even think about that stuff really. It never occurred to me.

I was just this girl that pushed and pushed her way into his life, and he didn’t know what the fuck. On the one hand, she’s eager to show him her boobs, that’s nice. On the other hand, she’s pushy and intimidatingly experienced and she won’t leave him alone. He was a teenage boy, so he was fucking horny just like I was. So he'd be into it, but then not into it. You're not going to miss a chance to see boobs, but she'd be too much. He’d pull away, and the more he’d pull away, the harder I’d chase him.

So anyway, one day after school, there we were, out in the woods, sharing a six pack and a couple of joints. I looked over at Peter, and I said, proud of how super-casual I was about it, and I said “Let’s go out and see the mattress.”

And he said okay, like it was no big deal.

Oh fuck! I was ready to cartwheels!

So I said okay too, like it was no big deal. Because I was cool, you know.

I took his hand, and we said we’d be right back. And you know, we knew what we were going to do, and they knew what we were going to do. So they joked and cheered, I had to struggle to keep this big grin off my face.

We went out to the mattress. I was so relieved when it was still there. Sometimes things disappeared, or got moved. You never really knew.

I was out of my clothes so fast! Just naked out there, in front of Peter. I felt beautiful. I stepped up, and kissed him, and his hands were all over me. I got his T-shirt off, and we pulled down his pants. Then I was on the mattress, it was damp under my back, but I didn’t mind. I was looking up at him.

He was so fucking beautiful.

I spread my legs, and he kind of pushed, but couldn’t seem to find me. I remember his cock poking at my pubic hair. I reached down and guided him in. I was so fucking wet, he slid right in. And finally, finally we were making love.

No condom, of course. That would have spoiled the perfect romance of the occasion. I wanted to feel him, all of him, and when he came in me, I wanted him inside me. I wanted to keep his semen in me, like a promise ring.

His breath smelled of beer. And he was clumsy and awkward. He held himself up off me, like he was doing a push up, even as I tried to pull him down, so I could feel his chest against my nipples.

But he went a good ten minutes. Which was long for a boy his age with no experience. I think it was the pot. Me, I just loved having him inside me, feeling his cock, just delirious with happiness. Every stroke was an emotional ecstasy, it felt good physically, I was almost having orgasms.

When he came and finally relaxed on me, his body pressing in, I had like a contact orgasm. He laid on top of me panting, and I wrapped my arms and legs around him like a python, keeping him inside me, even as his cock deflated and his cum oozed into me.

I was so thrilled. We had consummated our true love, I felt like I was in a Disney movie. Peter was already restless, but I wasn’t registering that. I was just blissful.

That’s when we heard the giggling.

I honestly don’t know what was going through my head back then. Maybe it was the pot, or the beer. Or maybe it was just this delirious happiness. I should have freaked out. But I didn’t. It was just the gang, these guys I’d been so bent on insinuating myself with. They were my friends. They were more than my friends. They were the brothers (not literally) of the man (boy) I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

This will sound stupid - I’d already picked out their rules for the wedding party. Lyle would be best man, and Tommy would be Master of ceremonies, and Jerry (?) I had something for him too, I can't remember what, be they'd all be important parts of my wedding.

I was so stupid.

They’d knew I’d gone off to consumate true love with Peter. So somehow, it wasn’t bad they’d watched. I was so happy, I didn't really mind. It would have been shitty if they’d stood in the open and watched and made asshole comments. But you know, sneaking, I just wasn’t bothered. In a weird way, it was kind of thrilled, our true love had been witnessed, consecrated.

So they came out, and Peter rolled off me and started getting dressed. They brought a couple of beer as peace offerings. So I just sat there naked on the mattress, passing the beer back and forth with them, and talked about how special it was.

I didn’t mind them looking at me.

I kind of liked it.

Peter sat down with us, I kind of pulled him closer to me. He resisted a little, which I didn't understand, but I didn't think anything of it. We talked and drank, and Tommy asked if he could have some. I pretended not to understand, but he kept at it. Finally, I said I was with Peter.

And Peter said he didn’t mind.

Whoomp. My heart dropped out the bottom of my stomach. For a moment, I was just sick.

I think they saw something in my face. Because suddenly it was all four musketeers and share and share alike. And they all really liked me. I was one of the gang, for sure. They were all agreeing. What we all had was special. I kind of went with it.

I told them about my wedding fantasy. Oh god, I was so... Stupid. Tommy was thrilled to be the best man. He did seem really honoured that I chose him. And we sort of talked about the life I’d wanted, and how they’d be a part of it. Thankfully, not in too much detail. Tommy worked on Peter too, not just me. And Peter said I should, because we were all together, brothers and a sister. I felt kind of hemmed in.

But I loved Peter. And Peter said I should, and it would be okay.

What could I say?

Okay.

I had put on my T-shirt, but I wasn’t wearing anything else. I took it off, and laid back on the damp mattress, propped up on my elbows. Tommy took off his clothes. He was heavy set, broad built. I ran across him many years later, and he was fat as fuck. He was hairier than the others. His cock was thicker, and it bent to one side. I’d never seen that.

He got on top of me, and laid right on top of me. I felt his weight pressing me down. I like Peter, he didn’t find my entrance. His cock humped against my belly. I should have let him come that way, but after a half dozen stupid thrusts, I reached down and bent my knees back, and guided him to me, so then he pushed up inside me.

Tommy made me grunt, he felt really big. Bigger than he actually was, because I wasn’t as wet as I’d been with Peter. I remember grimacing when he pushed up inside. He thrust really hard, awkwardly so, and I wrapped my legs around him in self defense. His cock felt weird in me, because of the way he was bent sideways.

But it was funny, I started to enjoy it. I didn’t want to, I wanted it to be over fast. But he was big in me, and moving hard, and I guess jamming against my clit with each thrust, His weight crushed the breath out of me, but his chest hair tickled my nipples and his skin was against mine. I started to get really turned on, getting wetter and more aroused.

And I thought, maybe this isn’t so bad. Maybe they’re right. Maybe this is good. I started to kiss him, and he kissed me back.

Then he came.

Like.... fuck!!!

Then Lyle. He was so fast, like the minute Tommy got off, he was on top of me. Like, right there. He had this skinny basketball player’s body, just all arms and legs and ribs and tendons. He found me right away, just slid right in. And the minute he was inside, he kissed me.

I didn’t kiss him.

He was the one that kissed me.

I was almost shocked. He didn’t even move inside me, his cock was all the way in, and we were making out on the damp mattress. It was like we’d gone parking, except that his cock was already in me. I remember thinking he’d gotten it backwards, it should have first the foreplay, then the penetration.

But when he started to move, it felt good. He didn’t last super-long, none of them did. But he tried to hold back. I slipped a hand down so I could touch myself while he fucked. He was the one I came with. I wouldn’t say, a hundred per cent, he made me come. But he was in there, no pun intended.

And Jerry. Jerry had his turn. I don’t even fucking remember him. He put his cock in me. He came in me. I don’t think he kissed me. That was it. Sorry Jerry.

They all watched.

But at least, no one said anything stupid.

Then we all got dressed and went back to the couches. None of us had anything to say, really. I cuddled up with Peter. I really needed to be close to him. Normally, I’d cling to him because I just loved him so much. But I remember this time, the clinging was desperate, like I was drowning. He was just stiff.

I was plastered so close I could feel Peter getting his erection back, so I started rubbing it. I felt I’d fucked up in ways I didn’t even understand. Hadn’t I done everything they wanted? Wasn’t I one of them. He let me unzip him and take it out.

I sucked his cock right in front of them, with some stupid stupid idea that somehow this would make everything all right. Fuck, I’ve got tears in my eyes as I write this.

They all watched me, solemn as church goers.

That was it.

The whole thing, maybe an hour or so. All four guys, probably not more than half an hour of fucking combined.

Then Peter drove us all home. It was like a funeral in the car. Just sitting there. I was in the front seat, the three guys in the back. I reached for Peter’s hand, but he had both on the steering wheel, staring straight head.

Tommy and Jerry got off together. They were going to hang out at Jerry’s. Lyle rode with us almost to the end, I so fucking wanted him out so I could talk privately with Peter. Then he was gone. And somehow, I didn’t have anything to say now that I was alone.

We drove another ten minutes, and he pulled up in front of my house. I leaned in to kiss him, because I really really needed to kiss him. I needed to kiss him to know that I hadn’t fucked up, that we were still in love, that as weird as it was, it was going to be okay.

He turned his face away, stiffly.

I said “Why?”

And he said, “Because I know where your mouth has been.”

Just like that, my whole world shattered and my heart broke in a million pieces. I hadn’t sucked any of their cocks, just his. How could he say something so awful! I’d done it for him. For love. I’d had sex with them because he’d told me to. He fucking told me to do it. He made me. I wouldn't have done it otherwise.

Suddenly, the infatuation was over. Right at that moment, it was stone dead. I was hurt, and really angry, and I didn’t know what to do. So I got out, and slammed the door and ran up the driveway to home.

You think I would cry. But I didn’t. I said I wasn’t hungry, and went up to my room. Then I just laid there with this cold awful pit in my stomach, just hating myself. I didn’t sleep. I just laid there all night. The sun came up, and I didn’t even want to go to school.

But Mom made me.

Of course, the story was all over school the next day.

Actually, I am probably remembering it wrong. Maybe it took a few days. But the story got around. I’d gone out in the park and lured all these guys into a gangbang, suddenly I was the biggest slut that had ever been in school.

I was so fucking angry when the stories got back to me. I was crazy angry. I found Peter and just screamed at him.

He told me Lyle had talked. So I walked up to Lyle, full of towering fury, right in the halls, right at the lockers in front of everyone, and raged and swore at him. I was so hurt and upset. All he did was stand there, with some stupid snarky smile, full of contempt, with all his buddies surrounding him to protect him, looking at me like I was some stupid cunt, laughing at me, as I screamed myself hoarse, and then ran away and had a good cry in the bathroom. If I’d have had a gun, I would have shot him. I hated Lyle. I hated him so much. He’d ruined my life!

Actually, it was the worst thing I could have done. If everyone hadn’t heard the story already, now it was all over the place. And if anyone had doubts, yeah, my fucking screaming fit amounted to a confession that it had happened, and every bit of it was true. School runs on gossip. Now, I was the biggest slut that ever existed. I wasn’t popular any more, I wasn’t the sexual superhero, the sophisticate with the answers, the girl who knew stuff, the brave and confident one. I wasn't cool.

I was just a whore, a disgusting whore. The cold was setting in.

The shit game had begun.

You know, looking back, I think the shit game was already starting. We like to have things neat and tidy. We like these benchmarks in our lives. It’s convenient to say that the first train, that was where my life went to shit. And it felt like that.

But looking back, you know, I think maybe it already had started. The whispers behind my back, the catty remarks, the jokes and stories, lies and exaggerations, the coldness and the cold shoulders. I was just ignoring or not noting it, but I think it had already started.

But you got to put your benchmark somewhere. It just kind of went into overdrive. My life would turn into hell. I had my first big epic fight with my parents around that time. I don’t even remember what it was about. Something stupid.

That’s about it. I didn’t have anything to do with any of them the rest of the time I stayed in school. They knew enough to stay the fuck away from me. I had never been one of the gang, I was just a stupid pushy girl who inserted myself into their group. I hated them. I hated myself for being so naive and stupid. I hated the world.

And the world, my world, well, it hated me right back.

Many years later, I saw Tommy, he was a fat fuck.

I never saw or heard of Peter, maybe he’s out there somewhere, or maybe he died of cancer - like I could give a shit.

Jerry? Who knows, who cares.

I did run into Lyle. I didn’t even want to talk to him. He was married, kids. It was some stupid function. I was kind of trapped there. So I had to talk to him.

Want to hear something stupid?

He had a crush on me. Oh yeah. He was totally fucking in love with me. I was the most amazing, the smartest, funniest, most thoughtful and most brilliant girl who ever lived. He worshipped me from afar, all the while I was trying to saran-wrap myself around Peter. When I was hanging with the gang, he was so fucking happy to be around me. I broke his heart every single time we all got together, because he could see how much I wanted Peter, and I barely looked at him. But he was such a nice guy, he wanted me to have what I wanted, even if it wasn’t him.

When I fucked him, it was the greatest day of his life. All his romantic fantasies come true, or at least as close as they could ever become.

The worst day of his life? That was when I’d come screaming myself hoarse at him in the hallways. What I thought was a snarky grin and him laughing at me? He had been scared shitless of me, he was paralyzed practically pissing himself with terror as I swore and screamed at him. Completely humiliated in front of everyone. He changed schools after that. I didn’t even notice.

It’s bullshit of course. It was all just teenage crap, not the worst day or the best day of his life. We’re all so fucking dramatic at that age. He went on to live his life, I went on to live mine. We had other best days and worse days. He showed me pictures of his wife and kids. He turned out okay, and he was happy that I turned out okay.

It’s funny. I was in a love triangle, and didn’t even know it. I got infatuated with the wrong guy. Maybe if I’d looked left, when I looked right, maybe something tiny and stupid, and it might have been me and him, and everything would have been so different.

So, that was my milestone - my first gangbang, naive, infatuated, foolish, just stumbling and fumbling my way into it, not really knowing what I was doing, and fucking it all up.

I was sexually sophisticated. But I wasn't really mature in any other way, so it was like a gun in my hand that I could use, but not handle.

It is what it is.