My name is Claire Westerly, and about a week ago, I lost my virginity.
I still can't really believe if, if I'm being honest. Last Monday, out of the blue, a guy I'd never even talked to passed me a note in class asking to meet me during lunch, which was weird. Guys only ask to meet girls if they like them or if they want something from them, and if this guy liked me, I imagine he would have given me some kind of sign or something to show he was interested, right? So, by that logic, he must have wanted something from me. I think.
I decided to meet him anyways, which might have been a bad idea in hindsight, because I didn't know whether or not he had something against me, like if he was some popular girl's boytoy and his girlfriend wanted him to try and set me up so she could beat me up or something. I wasn't really all that popular, since I didn't socialize a lot and had good grades and wasn't very athletic and had really particular interests, and sometimes I tended to make snide comments at girls who were being clits to people, so I was definitely on bad terms with at least a few people in my classes. I probably should have been more careful, because some of those assholes totally wouldn't have been above pressuring their boyfriends to try and set me up for something, but I wasn't, since I was a girl that hadn't ever really gotten any attention from a guy before, and suddenly I got asked to meet one all alone. I got excited. I can't be blamed for that.
But I got lucky, because he was actually alone, and he apparently had been hospitalized from an accident and had gotten amnesia, so he didn't really remember anyone. It sounded a little farfetched, and I wasn't sure if I really believed him at first, but he sounded so sincere, and he recognized my shoes (which was the reason he passed me the note in the first place), which I totally didn't expect from him. He was in a sports-related accident, and he looked pretty athletic, so I didn't think he was into like, niche nerdy stuff, but apparently he had recognized them because of his parents' fashion industry connections, which was also cool. Anyway, he needed help with history, since his concussion was pretty severe, according to him, and he had forgotten a ton of stuff, so he was looking for a tutor. His parents were probably pretty strict about his grades, because he didn't want them to know he needed one, so he was looking for someone who could keep quiet about it. Even said he'd be willing to pay. So, I made the offer: I told him I had an A in history, and I'd be willing to tutor him. After hearing what he'd been through, how could I refuse?
Okay, yeah, he was also very pretty. Sue me.
I didn't offer because I was specifically expecting anything—well, the thought crossed my mind, but it was wrong and we were still strangers—but he was cute, and I figured someone else might try to take advantage of him if they knew, so I offered to teach him instead. I might've tried to initiate something if I thought I had a shot, but I knew better. I didn't even think we had any common interests. He was a mollygirl, I was a nerd, I didn't think he'd end up seeing anything in me, yada, yada, practically a punk song in the making. Besides, making moves on someone who literally lost their memory was like the ultimate dirtbag move. But I didn't want him to end up even more hurt because some assface tried to pressure him into something he didn't want to do, and I figured it'd be nice to help him with his grades, and maybe get a little extra spending money on the side, if he still insisted on paying afterwards.
Plus, yeah, getting to spend time with a hot guy was a nice bonus. I'm still a girl, after all.
His amnesia was definitely real, though, because he had no knowledge of even basic historical events that he definitely would had to have known to pass middle school, and we spent a couple hours just going over some of the more important recent historical events, but he kept bring all flirty with me, and he was at my house, and it just got to a point where I started to think he was actually serious and he wasn't just like a flirty kind of guy or whatever, so I started to spiral a little bit. At first, I was excited and hopeful that he might've been interested in me, even though he knew I was a huge nerd, but then I started to worry that he actually didn't like me, and it was all a ploy by his hypothetical girlfriend to get him to tease me and see if I acted on it before spreading rumors that I sexually assaulted someone, and then everyone would hate me and the police would arrive and I would go to jail and get it put on my permanent record, or he would try and snap evidence and have his girlfriend accuse me of stealing her guy and beat me up in the hallways, or something else equally horrible….
I really wasn't thinking all that clearly, if it wasn't obvious.
The amnesia should have clued me in that he was probably single, since his girlfriend would have found out the first day back at the latest, and stuck by his side the entire day to help him with anything he might've struggled with. Some of the athletes at my school were assholes, yeah, but I don't think any of them were so bad that they'd ignore their recently injured amnesiac boyfriend that clearly needed help.
Anyway, I started getting all in my head about it and got real emotional. I still don't know what came over me. I started crying really pathetically and accusing him of being disingenuous or setting me up, but I couldn't really put all of my fears into words, so I probably didn't make that much sense, and remembering it makes me want to shove my head into a pillow and scream. Or hit something. It was beyondembarrassing; I don't even know why he didn't just leave right then and there.
Luckily for me, he didn't. Instead, he kissed me (taking my first kiss, incidentally), took off his shirt, and made me promise I'd keep everything that happened afterwards a secret between us.
I'd like to pretend I told him I'd keep his promise because it was the chivalrous thing to do, but to be honest, I just did it because I knew I was about to get laid. He probably could have made me promise almost anything at that moment and I still would have agreed. Lick his feet, give him my social security, didn't matter. That's just how horny I was.
What followed was probably the best day of my life up to that point. We didn't even do much foreplay; just kissed, stripped and got right to fucking, and he sent me straight to heaven from the first thrust. I was the one moving initially, but his dick was just so good that I could barely keep my balance when I was riding him. I'm not picky about dick size or anything, I don't think—I was a virgin until just this week, so I don't really have a frame of reference—but his was definitely above average, and it had such a nice upward curve that ground against me in just the right way, so my legs kept giving out as I rode him due to how fucking good it felt inside me every time I moved. I was trying to keep at a steady pace so I wouldn't cum too fast, since he didn't seem to be anywhere near the finish line, but he eventually got impatient, and just grabbed my hips and started thrusting his own like a wild animal, and it drove me crazy. I couldn't hold on for more than like a minute before I was cumming all over him. He blew all my expectations about sex out of the water.
And then it got even better.
From what I was taught in sex ed, guys usually favor being on the the bottom because their dicks require proper blood flow to get hard and stay hard. Physically exerting themselves by taking the lead during sex could risk that blood flow pulling away from their penises and to the muscles that now need the oxygen, which could bring the sex to a complete halt, so it was natural for girls to be on top, so they could do most of the heavy lifting. No girl wants to be unable to get their man off because she had him do all the work and caused him to lose his erection. It's lazy and selfish on the girl's part, and unsatisfying for both parties in the end—the guys, because they can't cum, and the girls, because they can't feel the guy cum in them (and also just don't have the satisfaction of knowing they can get their guy off). If the guy liked the girl, he would try to put in some effort and move their hips with her to help her feel better, but nothing so strenuous that it would risk causing his dick to go soft, like taking the lead entirely. It could be found in a few fetish videos out on the internet, but it just didn't happen in real life.
So, when he flipped me over and started fucking me like it was nothing special, my mind was fucking blown.
It was overwhelming. I could barely think. I've honestly never felt anything so good in my life. I tried to get him to slow down a bit, because I felt like he was overloading my brain with pleasure, but I couldn't even get the words out. Whatever he was doing to me was beyond anything I'd ever even dreamed of. For a while there, I thought I was dying. I could hardly catch my breath. Maybe I had died, and that was what heaven was. In all honestly, I'm still not convinced it's not.
Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but it was seriously amazing. I didn't want it to ever stop. I still don't. And if he didn't have to leave, he could have gone on even longer, from what he said—and I believed him. His dick was still rock-hard when he was putting his pants back on. He definitely could have gone another round; he barely even looked winded after the first one.
Is it really any wonder I'd caught feelings for him?
Yeah, it's pretty stupid, if I'm being honest with myself. But I'd kind of been the unpopular nerd the entire life, and while I've been pretty fine with that (since most of my classmates are airheads or assholes, in my opinion), I can't say there haven't been nights where I've felt pretty lonely, or worried about my chances of finding myself a guy. It's not like that fear was entirely unfounded, either; girls outnumber guys by around seventeen percent in my generation. In some older generations, that gap was smaller. My grandparents' generation had men outnumbered by only twelve percent, so it was easier getting into a relationship back then, but that was partially due to the numerous wars of the early twentieth century, so the gap had widened back to a bit above the average population difference in my generation, but even in their time, getting a guy to date you was important. It meant you were worth dating—something that not every woman was.
Despite that, I was fine with being single through high school. Most high school couples tended not to last, from what I'd read, and I didn't have anyone I really liked at school, so I wasn't planning on getting into any relationships just yet. I figured I could start dating in college, or something.
Then, out of the blue, Jason Everett crashed into my life and turned it entirely on its head.
I wasn't thinking about trying to get with him until after he fucked me, admittedly (and it was him fucking me, as defeminating as that is to admit, but holy fuck it was so good), since I initially thought he was someone else's guy, but after we went out to lunch the next day, and fucked again, this time in my car, I knew I was developing a crush on him.
Maybe it was stupid, and I was just horny and falling for the first guy to ever give me the time of day, or I was catching feelings for a whore, but Jason was…I don't know. He's not as vapid as most of the guys in my class. Despite his amnesia, he's observant, and he's a fast learner. He's definitely reckless, in multiple aspects—he got amnesia because of a snowboarding accident, and guys usually didn't sleep with girls on the first date, as far as I knew—but he wasn't just some slut. I saw how smart he was. He's something special.
And thinking about him never failed to get me wet.
…Damn it. Am I…?
I checked under the blankets. Sure enough, there was a wet spot between my legs, slowly dampening the sheets.
Yyyep. Totally am.
It was Saturday morning, and I was still in bed, completely nude under a thick stack of blankets, unwilling to get out and start the day. It was still cold, being January and all, and I didn't have anything I needed to do today, so I was spending my morning lazily lounging in bed. I had thought about just trying to go back to sleep for a few more hours, but that usually only made me even groggier, so I was just enjoying the warmth of my bed. I hadn't yet checked my phone to see what streaming channels I watched had uploaded new videos or what was new in my little circles on social media, which I normally did most mornings, but I had the day pretty much all to myself, so I wasn't really worried about rushing to do my morning rituals or anything.
But then my thoughts had turned to Jason (again), and my nipples were rock-hard.
Which brought me to the other thing I did in my free time (aside from all the nerdy stuff).
My hand snaked down between my legs, brushing against my clit and spreading my lower lips open. I could feel the warm, gooey juices dripping out of me already. I usually spent a bit of time teasing my outer lips to get me good and wet, but I was already soaking wet, so I just sunk two fingers into my pussy all the way down to the base, enjoying the tingling sensation as my insides parted. I spread my legs a bit wider for easier access before beginning to pump in and out of myself at a relaxed pace, but I was so unbearably horny that I couldn't keep to such a slow pace, so within seconds, I was fingering myself with reckless abandon; the wet, sloshing sounds distinctly audible through the blankets. Sharp currents of pleasure ran up my spine, causing my legs to tense and twitch reflexively as I rapidly thrust my fingers deeply into my core.
Normally, I took my time when I masturbated, especially if I had the free time. I'd pull up some good porn on my phone or PC, break out my dildo and ride it properly, as most normal girls my age did. But I was beyond horny, to the point where I didn't even need the porn, and I definitely didn't have the patience to try and climb on a dildo right now. I needed to cum right this fucking second.
Just thinking about the sex I'd had with Jason was enough to drive me crazy. It was better than any porn I'd ever watched. I got to feel and experience the fucking, the closeness, the movement, his warmth inside me in a way my fingers or a dildo could never replicate. Hell, even in porn, the guys didn't fuck like Jason. He was just something else.
And it was all for me.
It wasn't some act for the camera. He wasn't being paid to do anything. He seduced me, he wanted me, and it showed—in his kissing, in the way he moved and touched me, in the way he stared at my body like he genuinely found me the hottest girl he'd ever seen. I definitely wasn't the most attractive girl in my class, I knew that, but whatever he saw in me, he liked it, and he made sure to show his appreciation. I don't know if anyone outside of like, movie stars and pro athletes got the kind of sex I had gotten over the past week.
I began masturbating even faster, pressing my hand against my clit as I forcefully plunged my fingers deep into the folds of my pussy, desperate for release. The fire in the pit of my stomach burned ever hotter as I pleasured myself more and more intensely; my nerves became more sensitive with every second that passed. A heavy sheen of sweat dampened the sheets under me as my juices flowed freely from my vagina, further adding to the mess.
I was so close I could taste it.
I grabbed the edge of my comforter with my free hand and curled it around my fist, stuffed part of it into my mouth and bit down to muffle any noise I'd made. I could normally suppress my moans while masturbating, but sometimes one slipped out when I orgasmed, which had gotten me into trouble a couple times, and I knew this one was going to be big.
I pushed myself to the edge of orgasm, hips bucking wildly, involuntarily, legs spasming, and shoved my fingers deep inside myself, practically vibrating my hand back and forth as I stimulated my clit and my core at the same time, imagining Jason was right here on top of me again, fucking me like he did our first time together.
Holy fuck, did I cum hard.
My vision practically went white as my whole body tensed. I screamed into my blanket, biting down on it as hard as I could to muffle the noise. My back arched as an enormous gush of my juices exploded out of me, soaking my blankets and bedsheets as a violent orgasm rocked my whole body.
After what felt like forever, I collapsed back onto my bed bonelessly as my orgasm started to wind down, right into the big, soaking-wet mess I had just made—which I was going to have to clean, now. I might've been able to get away with leaving it as it were and just letting it dry if it had been a weaker orgasm, since I normally didn't cum nearly as much as I just had, but that wasn't the case this time. This was one of the biggest orgasms I'd ever had (aside from the ones Jason had given me), and it showed. I'd soaked through nearly all the blankets, the bed sheet, and the mattress under it. I could feel the drenched sheets against my ass and legs, growing colder by the second.
…And now I'm gonna have to run these through the wash without my parents getting suspicious. Great.
I dragged myself out of bed, not willing to tolerate the feeling of my own juices pressed against me any longer, even if it meant exposing myself to the cold air. I then dug out an old shirt out of my hamper and wiped myself down with it, making sure to dry myself completely before throwing on a dirty set of underwear and my robe. I didn't particularly like throwing on an old set of briefs, but I was going to shower as soon as I got my blankets into the wash, anyway, so I decided wearing an already dirty pair for a few minutes was better than dirtying a clean pair.
I tore the sheets off my bed, wadded them up in a massive ball and prayed that my parents wouldn't ask me why I was washing my blankets before breakfast.
My dad is the nosiest person I've ever met.
Of course, he just had to ask why I was washing my sheets, and didn't just believe me when I said that they hadn't been washed in a while, and I was starting to get a bit more acne, because he had apparently had my sheets washed just a few days ago without my noticing, so I had to tell him I had wet the bed just so he would drop it and leave me alone.
He'd probably mention it to mom at some point, though, which sucked, because it meant I couldn't use that excuse again if I ever had this situation happen in the near future. They'd start getting concerned about whether or not I could actually control my bladder, and they'd try to discuss it with me or try to help me with it, and that sounded like a really uncomfortable situation that I wanted to avoid, if possible.
He ultimately left me to it after telling me that if I needed help with anything, I could always talk to her, and I quickly finished stuffing the mass of blankets into the washing machine, then overfilled the detergent compartment and fabric softener tray, and ran it on heavy before heading back upstairs to take a shower.
As much as I wanted to lounge around in the hot water for thirty minutes or so, my parents would definitely get mad at me if they knew I was running two different water sources at the same time for more than ten minutes, so I took as quick and efficient a shower as I possibly could so that my parents would be far less likely to notice. The more I stayed out of their way, the less likely it was that I might have to answer some uncomfortable questions.
Now that I thought about it, ever since I had lost my virginity, I felt like I was suddenly avoiding my parents more, like I was afraid they would find out I wasn't the sweet, innocent little girl I sometimes felt they still saw me as. Which in itself wasn't a bad thing, I didn't think—losing one's innocence was a part of growing up, and I was almost out of high school—but it was still uncomfortable talking about those kinds of things with them, so I tended to avoid those subjects whenever possible, and having them interrogate me over suspicious behavior sounded like the perfect gateway into said subjects in the worst possible way.
Which was, of course, the absolute last thing I wanted.
I waited for the water to just barely heat up before jumping in, quickly lathering my hair, haphazardly rubbing myself down with bodywash, then rinsing and running a bit of conditioner through my hair before quickly shutting off the shower and hopping out and throwing a large, fuzzy towel over myself, letting it soak up the excess water in my hair and on my skin.
I silently thanked my parents for having such nice towels. I'd spent the night at friends' houses before, back when I was younger, and I always remembered their towels being so much thinner and coarser, and never understood why they went with what felt like the cheapest possible option. Good towels weren't that expensive, were they?
Leaving the towel draped over my hair, I gathered my dirty underwear, exited the bathroom and slipped back into my room, not bothering to cover myself, since I knew both of my parents were still downstairs. I closed the door behind me, threw my dirty underwear in the hamper and haphazardly pulled on a set of sweatpants and a loose tee shirt, deciding against wearing underwear. I wasn't planning on going outside today, and my parents probably didn't have any plans, either, so I really just couldn't be bothered. At most, they'd make me watch a movie with them after dinner, or play some new board game they'd probably picked up at the store because one of their coworkers mentioned it to them. They brought home a new one at least once a month, and we had built up such a collection over the years that they had started to just donate the ones we didn't like as much to the local charity, if not our neighbors. It's far and away the biggest collection of board games I've ever seen, and if we had we kept all the ones we donated, we probably would've had the biggest collection in the state.
I'd call them ridiculous, but given the size of my PC game library, I really can't say much. I'm definitely their daughter.
I headed downstairs and poured myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast, since my parents had already eaten. They had to be on call for work on Saturdays, so they had to eat early, but didn't always have to work on Saturdays—it usually depended on the time of year, since they were both working in an accounting firm, and accountants are only busy for about half the year. My mom was actually an accounting manager at the firm, while my dad was a personal assistant to the CFO, so they had crossed paths enough that they got to know each other, and eventually had a few trysts in the office, which resulted in my mom getting pregnant with me, and they had sort of a shotgun wedding, but it worked out for them, and now my dad is an accounting assistant who passed his CPA test just a couple of years ago, so he's able to spend more time with my mom while at work, rather than being stuck slaving away for the CFO.
It seemed a little odd to me that they wanted to spend so much time together that my dad put in all the effort to get a more demanding job at the same office, especially since they see each other at home just the same, but maybe I was just more of an introvert than they were. I didn't think I'd be quite as comfortable spending time with someone twenty-four/seven, as they did.
Then again, I wouldn't mind having Jason around more often….
Alright, maybe there was something to it.
I thought about texting him and asking what he was up to today. It might have been a little early, since he seemed a little reluctant to commit to a relationship just yet, but I wanted to meet him again. Maybe go out on another little not-date or whatever. I could even show him around the city, since he didn't remember most of it!
That's not taking advantage of his injury, is it?
Eh, probably not.
I toyed around with my phone as I ate, opening and closing my messaging app and halfheartedly typing up and deleting messages to him, still unsure on whether or not to actually shoot my shot, but ultimately decided to wait. I'd see him in-person in a couple days, anyway. I didn't need to talk to him every single day. That'd probably make him think I'm creepy or something.
After finishing breakfast, I dumped my dishes in the sink and headed back upstairs, shutting the door behind me and logging onto one of the main chat servers I frequented. Some of the girls there were regulars, so I had vaguely gotten to know them over the past year or two, but only in the sense that they were still just names on a screen. All of them were out of state, and a couple of them out of the country, so there was little hope of us ever meeting in person. We'd somewhat recently gotten to the point where we would occasionally voice chat with each other, but with all of us being pretty introverted, texting was just way less draining for all of us. It's not as much direct interaction. A couple of the girls would hop on voice chat more often, since they played video games together, but I wasn't one for the hardcore video game scene, so I didn't join them super often.
Today, though, I guess I was feeling a little chatty.
(I really just wanted to brag about losing my virginity.)
"Hey, hey, people," I greeted as I joined the server's voice channel. Three other girls were already on the call, though none of them seemed to be doing anything in particular. I guessed I wasn't the only one having a lazy Saturday.
I thought about opening with the big reveal, but decided to wait, just in case it turned out they were talking about something serious or deep in the middle of a conversation. I didn't want to be seen as a clit who didn't care about their issues and was only there to brag.
"What's up, Vel?" Kouri greeted me back. Despite being a complete weeb, and prone to sudden, aggressive outbursts and strong opinions about niche topics relatively unknown to the rest of us, she was probably one of the saner members of the loose little group we had formed. She was an elitist through and through, often convinced of her "superior" taste in all things entertainment, but she often had good arguments and could back up whatever opinions she held—though that tended to cause some verbal shit flinging in the call from time to time. She'd often disagree with whatever opinion someone else spouted and would staunchly defend her position until someone else (usually me) would break up the argument. Outside of that, she was usually pretty alright, and always had good recommendations for shows and games to try out. She seemed to pride herself on learning people's tastes and recommending things that best fit their preferences. She had also been in the forums and servers we frequented longer than any of us, making her the de facto "eldest," not that that gave her any sort of special privilege.
"Not much. It's Saturday, you know how it is," she drawled.
"Yep. Same with all of us," AuroraSoda chimed in. "Hi."
Aurora was the "cultured" one between us, as she liked to proclaim. The rest of us just called her an unapologetic degenerate. She was often the one to post all manner of suggestive images in the chat, usually 2D, but always at least suggestive, if not outright pornographic. We weren't sure how much of what she posted was because she was really into it, and assumed that we would be into it as well, and how much of it was purely to get a reaction out of us. Regardless, she had no issue talking about any and all lewd topics, including ones that were rarely discussed between even close friends. I wasn't sure if she thought it was funny, was just raised weird or maladjusted, emboldened by her anonymity or had simply found refuge in people that put up with her shenanigans, but she had zero sense of shame around us. I was glad she was as antisocial as she was, because she'd be a menace if she talked about that kind of stuff in public.
She was kinda right, though. We enjoyed most of what she posted, even if we'd never tell her that. She had pretty good taste.
"Hey, Vel!" the final girl in the call greeted me energetically. I could practically hear her waving to me over the call.
"Hey, Duck," I returned. WhistlingDuck was easily the most outgoing and extroverted of our group, to the point where we sometimes wondered why she hung out with us in the first place. She was a natural socialite, and was often out and about with real friends, playing sports, or at parties, or shopping, or eating, at the beach, or whatever else she happened to be doing. With how often she got out, I was honestly surprised she ever bothered to talk to us online, since she could probably just text her real friends all the time instead. It was kind of like the basketball star at school coming and hanging out with the reclusive nerds: it made for an odd picture. But from what she told us, she was into nerdy stuff as well as the more normie stuff, and she had a bunch of old friends who were into the same things, but they all moved away when she was younger, so she started spending time online to keep up with them. Eventually, she found that she enjoyed talking to new people, so she ended up trawling the same servers and forums that the rest of us did, and eventually started roping us into using voice chat so we could properly talk instead of just typing to each other.
She was also the only one of us who had a boyfriend. She had the pictures to prove it.
"No real weekend plans?" Duck asked.
"Not really," I replied, opening up a tab of a manga I had bookmarked a couple days ago. "Maybe next weekend."
"Maybe? You don't go outside like, ever," Soda chimed in teasingly.
"Rude."
"She isn't wrong, though," Kouri pointed out. "You only ever leave the house if your parents are dragging you somewhere. You're almost as big a shut-in as Soda."
"Wow, alright," Soda pretended to be affronted. "It's like that, huh?"
"Yeah, well," I shrugged, still scrolling through the manga, "I can't be a shut-in forever."
"Why not?" Soda asked, causing Kouri to snort sardonically.
"Mom would be mad, for one," I replied evasively. It was true, but it wasn't the main reason by any stretch.
"Yeah," Kouri agreed. "No mom wants a loser for a daughter."
"What are your plans for next week, then?" Duck asked me.
"I dunno," I shrugged. "Probably just go to the bookstore, pick up a couple fantasy books someone at school recommended. I might try going skiing sometime soon, too."
"You? Skiing?" Soda echoed incredulously.
"Ooh, that sounds fun!" Duck exclaimed. "I've never gotten to go skiing or snowboarding, since I live down in Florida. But I've been surfing before, and that's a ton of fun. I don't know how well the skills would translate over, though."
"Yeah, it sounds pretty fun. I've heard skiing is easier, though, so I'll probably try that out, instead."
"Why not try both?" Duck pressed.
I shrugged out of habit, even though they couldn't see me. "Eh, I'm not sure if I want to try snowboarding. A guy I've been hanging out with at my school recently hit his head while he was snowboarding over winter break," I explained.
"Jeez, that's not good," Kouri muttered sympathetically.
Soda, however, had a different response.
"Oh? Some guy you've been hanging out with at school?" she asked skeptically. "You told me you don't talk to any guys at your school. Now you know one that snowboards? And now you wanna learn to ski? I don't know about that."
"Ooh, she's got a point. Didn't think of that," Kouri agreed.
I froze. My forehead suddenly in embarrassment. I know I originally hopped on to brag, but I hadn't really gotten to do so without destroying the flow of the conversation, and now I was being accused of being either a liar or a simp, and I wasn't sure which, but neither were true. Jason was real, and I had already slept with him, and he didn't completely say no to a possible relationship, so it definitely wasn't a one-sided relationship. I didn't need to try and learn his hobbies just to try and get his attention, I just wanted to be able to have more to talk about with him, since we were going to be spending time together for at least the next few months. That wasn't weird, right?
I swallowed my nervousness down.
I'm fine. I have nothing to prove to them.
"Yeah, it's a recent development," I protested. "I'm tutoring him in history."
"Mm, I dunno, you kinda hesitated for a bit there. When did this 'tutoring' start?" Soda asked doubtfully.
"Monday. He came up to me during lunch and started talking to me, and mentioned he was looking for someone to tutor him in history, since he was falling behind in class and didn't want his parents to find out, so I offered," I explained, trying not to stutter or trip over my words.
Soda still didn't believe me, though. "Uh huh. And you heard from a guy you've only known for a week and only talked to because you're tutoring him that he got injured while snowboarding—an athletic hobby, which is the complete opposite of every interest you've ever had—and you thought that sounded fun? I call bullshit. Something ain't adding up."
I almost reflexively denied her, but I caught the words before they could escape. She wasn't wrong, I was holding something back, and I didn't want to just be labeled a liar because I couldn't properly say that I'd lost my virginity—which was what I had come here to brag about in the first place! I shouldn't have had any trouble saying it at all!
I supposed I was just worried they wouldn't believe me.
Just fucking say it, Claire. If they don't believe you, you don't have to prove anything to them.
"Fine. Yeah. We slept together," I spat out, crossing my arms. "Happy?"
"Oh my gosh! Really?" Duck exclaimed. The other two also reacted, but I couldn't make out what either of them said. "Was this your first time?"
"Yeah, it was," I admitted.
"When'd you sleep with him?" Kouri demanded, insatiably curious.
I frowned. Now came the less believable part.
"…Monday."
"No way," Soda immediately rebuked. "You of all people met a guy and slept with him the same fucking day?"
"I know, it's crazy! I still can't believe it, either!" I told her. "I still don't feel like it was real, to be honest."
"So what happened?" Kouri asked. "Did you seduce him? He offer his body as payment for the tutoring lessons or something?"
"I don't think so, no. He offered to pay me in cash, originally, but I turned him down, so I don't think he'd then try to pay with his body," I explained. "When he first started coming onto me, I initially thought he was someone else's boy and they had put him up to this to try and blackmail me or something, but he was honestly really genuine, even though I almost ruined it."
Everyone was silent for a second, processing what I had said. I worried that everyone was going to call me a liar, but they proved me wrong before I started to spiral.
"Wow, that's pretty crazy. I'm glad he was genuine about it, though. How was it?" Duck asked curiously.
"It was…better than I ever imagined. He's really something else. I haven't been able to get him out of my head since," I admitted, a little shamefully. I didn't like to admit how desperately horny for him I was, even to myself.
"Damn, sis, you really that down bad for him?" Soda teased me. "He must fuck like a pornstar."
"He's better," I admitted without hesitation. "Porn doesn't even compare."
They were silent for another second, before Kouri snorted wryly. "Well, damn, now I'm jealous. Is he hot?"
"She might be kinda biased on that one," Soda pointed out. "Hard to find your first time super ugly."
"Yeah, you got a point. Never mind," she agreed.
"For the record, though, Vel, I'm still not entirely sure I believe you," Soda stated. "You just happen to be approached by a guy in your school that's never talked to you before, he asks you if you know anyone that can tutor him in a subject you just happen to be good at—"
"I'm good at every subject," I interrupted. "Four-point-oh GPA."
"Alright, fair. He needs a tutor, you offer, and then he seduces you the same day and you sleep with him? I'm not calling you a liar, but it's a pretty crazy story. I can only imagine he's doing it because that's basically his way of paying you. Is he poor?"
"I don't think so," I told her. "I live in a pretty upper-class area. Most of the poorer people here live more in the inner city. Besides, he offered to pay with real money. I already told you that."
"So, what, you think he's just a slut?" Soda asked.
"Maybe." I couldn't discount the possibility, though I certainly didn't want to believe it. "I asked him out, and he didn't say no, but he said he wanted to get his history grade back on track before we went out, since if we started dating and then broke up, it'd be weird for me to still tutor him with that between us."
"That makes sense," Duck chimed in brightly. "He sounds like he's got a good head on him."
"Yeah, normally I'd say he's probably just making excuses, but that would be really weird." Kouri agreed.
"He's got a good head, but does he give good head?" Soda joked.
"Ayyy," Kouri sounded off. I imagined she was pointing finger guns at her screen.
"No, seriously though, was it good head?"
"Uh…I don't actually know," I admitted. "We never really got around to it."
I wasn't sure I was ever going to get to it, either. It just felt really rude to demand oral if it wasn't being explicitly offered, and he was always rock-hard every time we'd gotten in the mood, so we had always skipped foreplay and just gone right to the main course every time.
Besides, it was normally the girl that was supposed to give head, right? Since girls usually needed to get their guy hard so that they could fuck in the first place. Guys giving head was purely a service. Soda's standards were probably really warped by all the porn she consumed. I hoped that wouldn't end up damaging any future relationships she might have.
Honestly, though, I kinda doubted she would ever actually have any relationships.
An unfortunate aspect of the gender population gap was that with the rising trend of monogamous relationships over the past century, there were aa good chunk of women who were left single and childless for life. There simply weren't enough men to go around, which meant competition for them was incredibly fierce. Guys had a bevy of women to pick and choose from, and with their newfound freedom, they were often picky about whom they would end up dating, and thus most women needed some sort of edge over their peers just to have a shot in the dating market. It was an issue on both a macro and micro scale, considering that fewer women were pregnant, meaning birth rates were on a projected decline, and there were more unhappy single women out there, which led to increased rates of drug use, suicide and violent crime. An easy fix would theoretically be to incentivize multiple-partner marriages and more kids with tax breaks and such, which the government was already doing (albeit slowly), but in reality, my generation and the generation before were raised by two generations that had a relatively very small gender gap, and thus were raised to expect to be able to get a man for ourselves—so very few of us were all that inclined to share.
So, the bottom fifteen to twenty percent of women were likely doomed to be single for the rest of their lives, unless societal attitudes changed within a generation or so. Some of them did not know they were in this percentile, and would continue to chase pole until they died. But others knew they had no hope, and thus ended up taking a few possible paths, the first of which I had already mentioned: drugs, crime and despair. They would turn to escapism of the highest order, often falling to homelessness, the prison system, an overdose or even suicide. I'd seen on the news that the rates of suicides and other deaths of despair (as classified by whatever government agency was in charge of that sort of thing) had been on the rise for the past ten years or so, and probably wasn't going to taper off anytime soon, which was a really depressing thought.
The second was lesbianism. If they couldn't get a guy, and they were lonely enough, some girls would just end up with other girls like them so they would at least have some companionship. Most lesbian relationships were assumed to be this type, even if they were actually gold star lesbians from the get-go, and those types would get pissy whenever people implied they might not be lesbians voluntarily.
The third and final most common path was hedonism. Hedonists were women who understood their place and realized that society wouldn't have much of a use for them, and they wasn't willing to work hard enough to make a good enough living to get a man that way, so they instead indulged in every pleasure she could. Pornography, video games, fatty foods, taboo sex toys such as vacuum pumps and even vibrators—anything went for these women. Vibrators were probably the truest mark of a hedonist, though, since they gave women a kind of pleasure that no man could ever hope to recreate, and using them too much would numb a woman's sensitivity to the point where she found it almost impossible to cum from normal sex.
According to Kouri, in Japan, these kinds of women were called fujoshi: rotten girls. And if anyone I knew fit that description, it was Soda.
"Damn, you never even got head from him? What a waste," Soda scoffed. I hated that attitude of hers, sometimes. She would act like she knew everything about whatever subject we were talking about even though she didn't have any experience in that subject, sexual or otherwise. She wasn't a bad friend, but she did this a lot, and it got on my nerves every time. Normally I would normally just ignore it, but I definitely knew she hadn't had sex, unless she'd paid off a prostitute without having told us. And she definitely would have told us, because she had no shame whatsoever, so she was definitely a virgin. All of her experience was from porn, as I suspected.
Sure, I wasn't that much better, since I only just lost my virginity a week ago, but that's still better than nothing.
"Aren't I supposed to be the one giving head?" I countered. "Eating me out won't get him hard."
"Y'know, she's got a point," Kouri backed me up. That was good; it meant I wasn't the only one getting tired of Soda's horseshit.
"It'll get you wetter, though, so it'll feel better for him," Soda countered.
"Actually, I've found that I'm usually already really wet whenever my boyfriend and I start teasing each other," Duck pointed out. "I don't know how it is for other girls, but I don't really need any help getting wet enough."
"Yeah, come on, Soda. Let's be real, here: we're girls. We get wet from literally anything. When the guy I slept with so much as kissed me, I was a fuckin' fountain. If you need to be eaten out to get wet, you probably have some issues."
"Yeah, whatever. I don't care," Soda grumbled halfheartedly, confirming in my mind that she was definitely just spewing shit and was salty about being called out on it.
"Damn, Soda's getting' dogged on today."
I could hear the smugness in Kouri's voice.
"Shut the fuck up, Kouri. You ain't ever gotten any, either," Soda snapped at her, clearly just lashing out at the easiest target to try and nurse her bruised ego.
"I'm also still in high school. You're literally a college dropout NEET," Kouri taunted. "Couldn't even get any dick in college, huh? Is that why you dropped out?"
Alright, that was probably a little far. I know I would've been pissed if someone said that to my face. College was—from what I'd heard—one of the premier ways to meet guys, since a lot of more well-off parents would send their kids to colleges in hopes they would find wives with good connections and therefore good jobs. The reality was that it didn't always work out that way, since just as many people didn't go to college as did, and it was perfectly possible to find a guy in quite a number of places, but it still meant that there were a higher concentration of men in college than in most cities or neighborhoods, and that also meant a higher chance of either getting into a relationship with one, or finding one at a party drunk enough to let some inhibitions loose—provided they weren't so drunk that their dick couldn't get hard, because at that point it was legally considered rape. So, to be called out because you couldn't even get a guy for a night at college of all places stung pretty badly.
Soda was silent for a few seconds, obviously fuming. None of us said anything, either. I had no desire to get involved, and Kouri probably realized she had gone too far and was waiting to see her reaction before saying anything else.
"Fuck you gals. I don't have to take this shit," Soda finally spat out, her voice watery, before she immediately disconnected from the call.
We all sat silently for another few seconds, this time for an entirely different reason. We all liked to make fun of each other a fair bit, and each of us had been clowned on by the rest at some point or another, but Soda had often been the butt of our jokes due to her confrontational tendencies, on top of being a serious degenerate, which gave us plenty of ammunition to use against her. But I'd always thought she had a fairly thick skin, so either I was wrong, or Kouri struck a serious chord with her last comment.
Whatever. I don't wanna deal with this.
"Well, then," I commented blandly. "That was fun. Listen, I'm probably gonna go. Kouri, I hope you two make up, because I don't think I'll be joining the voice chat again anytime soon if I have to hear you two fighting all the time."
Kouri sighed. "Yeah. I gotcha. I'll let her cool off and talk to her in a couple days, or something. She'll probably be over it by then. But she totally had that one coming, though, right?"
I pursed my lips, not answering her for a second. I agreed with her—Soda definitely had been worse as of late, and had seriously needed an ego check—but I didn't want Kouri to just think she was in the right and fuck up our group dynamic. I enjoyed hanging out with them, and I didn't want to just sit around while they argued all the time. That wasn't fun for anyone.
"Yeah, she did, but like…I still don't wanna make her feel like we hate her, y'know? She's still our friend," I eventually responded.
"Mhm! Keeping someone's head on straight is fine, but we don't want to ruin our friendship in the process!" Duck agreed with me, the absolute angel. I'd kiss her right now if I could.
Well, maybe not. That'd be a little…y'know.
"I get it, relax," Kouri waved us off. "I already said I'd talk to her in a couple days. She'll be fine by then, probably."
"Alright, cool. I'm gonna hop off, then. It was fun talking to you gals."
"Alright, so long."
"Peace."
I hit the disconnect button and tore my headphones off my head, dropping them carelessly onto the desk as I leaned back in my chair and exhaled heavily. Only thirty minutes of talking to them, and my brain already felt like it had turned to mush. I knew I was an introvert, but I didn't usually become so exhausted talking to my friends online, even for long periods of time. But then again, they didn't usually argue nearly as much as they had today, and I also usually didn't have to defend myself from all the teasing and prodding that had inevitably come after bragging that I'd lost my virginity, so maybe today was just special. But regardless, I needed to spend some time away from the voice chat for a little bit and let my brain recuperate.
That said, I now no longer had any clue what to do with myself. I didn't have much left on my to-watch list, and most of the manga I was reading was on hiatus or just updated really slowly. I didn't really want to play any video games by myself, since most of my games were just ones my friends dragged me into, and social media was rarely ever actually interesting.
Maybe I actually will go to a bookstore or something. Jason could probably recommend me something good.
Maybe I'll even run into him there.
If I was being honest, I really just wanted to see Jason again.
I pulled out my phone and opened our texts, hovering over the call button. I was really tempted to invite him out somewhere last-minute, but hesitated. I didn't want to be a bother; I felt like I'd come off as clingy or overly aggressive. I liked him, yeah, and he probably knew that, but trying to talk to him all the time would just make me look desperate, and guys reallydidn't like desperate girls. Instead, I just sent him a throwaway text asking for some fantasy novel recommendations, slipped on some shoes and a jacket and grabbed my car keys and headed out—though not before telling my parents. They were surprised, like I thought they'd be, but they just told me to have fun and be back before dinner. In all honesty, they were probably just happy I was going outside voluntarily at all.
I drove to the local bookstore hoping That Jason would respond to me soon (and not just leave me on read for days on end, as I'd heard was somewhat common for guys to do to girls they weren't especially interested in). so that I wouldn't have to wander around aimlessly, not knowing what to look for. I didn't want to spend hours in a bookstore I didn't really care about just so I could potentially find something that might bring me a little closer to Jason.
Fuck. I'm thinking about him again.
Luckily, he did actually respond, and with a surprisingly large list. I wasn't sure which ones were the best to start with, but I only found like half of the books he had sent me anyways, and what I found was already more than enough.
I left the store with a whole stack of books under my arm, just so I could have more stuff to discuss with the boy I liked.
Holy shit, I'm so fucking dick-whipped.
Even so, I still couldn't wait to see him again. Monday couldn't come fast enough.