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From: "MiniMarit" <minimarit@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Girl: My Story <lit> (m/f, m/f caution) 1/?
Date: Thu, 4 May 2000 21:10:14 -0400
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Girl: My Story
by Marit Larsen
This is my story.
I don't know what in the world possesses me to write this. I can't explain
it any more than saying that I woke up this morning needing to tell
everything to everyone. But since I can't tell everyone, I'll settle for
telling you.
You're probably expecting a lot of sex in this story. You're right. But
don't mistake it for descriptions of hot, wild and crazy animal se that ends
in orgasms that send you thrashing and writhing on your bed. I'm just a
girl, and just girls like me don't have that kind of sex. If anything, just
girls are lucky if they get pleasure from it, much less orgasms. And if
anything, just girls have more sex out of their bedrooms than on their beds.
Now that I'm sitting down to write my story, I have no clue where to begin.
My friend says that whenever you don't know where to begin with a story,
start somewhere where you know exactly what you want to say. Then work your
way to both the end and the beginning. I guess that's the only real way I
know to do this.
So here's what I do know. I know that I am a twenty year old female. I
know that my birthday is May 25, 1979, which means I'm due to be legal age
any time now. I know that I have blond hair that isn't really blond hair
and I know that I have ice blue eyes that aren't really ice blue. My hair
is really a kind of light brown, the kind that makes you think "ordinary"
when you see it. So one day when I was thirteen I dyed it blond. It's been
that way since then except for a couple of years ago, when I dyed it dark
brown for my senior pictures.
My eyes are a different story.
When I was very young, there was some kind of accident with soap or
something, and I was blinded in my left eye. It must have been when I was a
baby, because what it did was change the color of my iris from blue to
green. So for the longest time, my eyes were two different colors. One was
a deep blue, the other a cat-like green.
The other kids in my elementary school made fun of me for a little while,
mostly in first and second grade. By the time third grade rolled along,
they pretty much ignored my eyes. That happens in elementary schools in
Alaska. You're with the same people so long, in the same classes and
everything becasue the city is so small. You literally grow up together,
and if you're lucky, you get to go to the same junior high and high school
with them too.
When I was in sixth grade, this new guy came into our class. New people
come along pretty often, so for a long time, nobody even thought about him.
Then he asked me on a date.
In sixth grade, a date means your mom drives you to the mall and you meet by
the skating rink. It's not much, but it's more than most other people get.
It was actually the first date I had ever been on.
He and I met by the skating rink, which was on the basement floor of the
Ruby Center, the biggest mall in Anchorage at the time. We planned to go
skating for a while, then maybe get something to eat at the food court.
He turned out to be a lousy skater, and I could pretty much turn circles
around him. I guess he got embarrassed or something, because after only
half an hour or so, he gave up and took off his skates. I felt bad for him,
because he only wanted to show off for me.
We went to eat at some burger place in the food court. He paid for all of
the skating, so I paid for my half of the food. It was the least I could
do, seeing that he was being so nice to me and I made him feel bad for
skating better than he did. I had a burger and some fries, he ordered a
chicken sandwich and a baked potato.
He started talking to me about this and that, nothing too serious, but
nothing too casual either. It was like he was going out of his way to
impress me with conversation. He seemed really nervous too, the way someone
acts when he knows he's about to get into something big. I figured it was
just because this was probably his first date too, but then he asked me
about my eyes.
I hadn't told the story in a few years, so it kind of shocked me when he
asked. I told him the same story I told my whole class five years ago, the
one about the soap incident when I was a baby. He looked at my left eye
closely, the one that was green from damage, and said that my eyes looked
really freaky.
At that point, I froze completely. When other kids found out about my eye,
they usually just let it go after I explained. This was the first guy who
said anything like that. I don't remember if I said anything to him about
it, but I remember not wanting to look him in the eye after that. I was
still dazed when he asked if I wanted to walk up to the Corner.
The Corner was a part of the mall that no adults ever went to because there
were only three stores in the entire hallway, and none of them were
especially buzy. So a lot of kids went there to make out, and that's what
this boy had in mind.
The Corner was on the opposite end of the mall from the food court, and he
held my hand all the way. It felt wrong for some reason, like his hand
belonged to an alien, and I was being abducted up to his space ship.
We sat down in the entrance to a hallway, far enough away from the main
hallway so nobody shopping in those three dead stores could see us. He sat
down on the floor, then pulled me down by my hand next to him. I heard him
take a deep breath, then suddenly he turned his body, leaned over, and
kissed me.
If I thought hs hand felt alien, his lips were even more unwelcomd. I
didn't know a good kiss from a bad kiss back then, so I just assumed that he
knew what he was doing. He parted my lips with his tongue, and I didn't do
anything to stop him. It was more shock than acceptance though, and I think
he could feel my reluctance.
He tried kissing me harder, probing deep into my mouth, touching everything
inside that his alien tongue could reach. After a few seconds, he started
groping at my chest, grabbing what little breasts I had when I was twelve.
He wasn't much taller or bigger than I was, but he was forceful enough so
that I couldn't do a thing to stop him, even if I had the presence of mind
to at least try. And I noticed that no matter now hard he squeezed at my
chest, and pinched the soft circles of my nipples in the middle of my
barely-rounded breasts, I couldn't feel a thing.
I had my eyes open the whole time, not because I liked looking at him, but
because I wasn't mentally present enough to remember my eyes were supposed
to be closed. I spent the better part of the kiss staring straight at his
eyelids. When he opened his eyes finally, still kissing me, he broke the
kiss and flinched backward.
He saw my eyes again, close up, where you can see the real difference in
color. That was what scared him into stopping. My eyes, one dark blue, the
other cat green.
The next day, I cried. Not because he had forced himself on me. I didn't
even deal with that until next week. All I knew was that I was a freak. My
mom, in a rare display of compassion, took me to be fitted with color
contacts that week. I chose a shade of blue called "Icy", and I started
wearing them that day.
At school, nobody seemed to notice my new eyes except my teacher and the boy
who molested me. He complimented me on them, then asked if I was busy the
next weekend. I looked away and told him I was.
We never really spoke again after that.
The Icy contacts became a part of my life. I wore them to school every day
for the rest of my school career, through all of my seventh and eighth
grades at Rames Middle School and my freshman year at Ruby High School.
Only once did I ever take out my contatcs to show my boyfriend at the time.
It was New Year's Eve of 1995, the year I met my first high school
boyfriend. My parents had gone to some party, leaving the house to me. My
boyfriend came over in his car, and we spent most of that night together.
He and I had been seeing each other for about two or so months, and New
Year's Eve was supposed to be the night we had sex for the first time. I
wasn't a virgin at this point, but he was.
We wanted to really do it up, so I got dressed in my sexiest looking outfit,
a low-cut red party dress, and waited for him to come over. He arrived
abouf half past ten, right as the Dick Clark show started on TV.
While the show was going on, he and I were making out on my couch, the room
lit only by the twenty candles I had put out before he had come over. He
touched my breasts through my dress, which was easier because I wasn't
wearing a bra underneath it. My breasts were still small enough to hold
their form without support, but I was starting to fill out by then. He
tweaked my nipples through the fabric of my drss, not daring to venture his
hands under it quite yet. My breath started to come in gasps, which he
tried to steady by kissing me deeply.
The kissing relaxed me some, but the pleasure from my nipples and the heat
rising from my sex was too much. Before long, I had to make him stop. We
lay together and caught our breath for a second before I got up and headed
for my bedroom. He followed me down the dark hall to my room, but I stopped
him just outside the door, telling him I wanted to set things up for him. I
got in and closed the door.
The first thing I did was set up the track lighting in my room so all the
lamps cast their light down onto my bed. Then I stripped off the dress and
the red lacy panties that he never got to see. I thought about it for a
second, then decided to put them back on for his sake. Then I lay down on
my bed and called him in.
As he walked in the room and saw me lying naked in a half dozen spotlights,
I motioned for him to come closer. I closed my eyes as he approached the
end of my bed, feeling him sit on the edge and take off his clothes. I felt
his hands massaging my thighs. I enjoyed the sensations his strong hands
gave me for a while, then he moved to take off my panties. I lifted my hips
off the bed to help him.
Then we were both naked on my bed. Things began to blur together. I felt
him shifting above me, positioning himself between my legs, trying to enter
me clumsinly without using his hands. When it was clear that he was going
to fail, I reached down and felt for him, then pulled him up and into me.
It was one of the first few times I had been penetrated, and this one was
just as thrilling as the others. It didn't matter that he was awkward as he
fucked me, moving in jerks and spasms rather than smooth strokes. I didn't
care. All I cared about was that I was being filled, being fucked, being
loved. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pushing my hips up against his,
trying to get him into a rhythm. He got it after a few haphazard thrusts,
and pushed himself up onto his hands to give him better leverage.
I opened my eyes to look down at our connection, watching the meeting place
of his body and mine. I love watching myself as I was being fucked,
matching the physical sensations to visual ones. I saw out of the top of my
vision that he was staring intently at our connection as well, eyeing with
interest the place where his sex merged seamlessly with mine.
He leaned back a bit more, pushing himself up with hs arms, to admire the
rest of my body. It was the first time that he had seen me totally naked,
and he seemed totally absorbed by the sight. As he stared at my figure,
especially my strawberry nipples, I watched his eyes roam over my body. And
I watched as his eyes came to meet mine.
That was when things froze for a split second, one that nobody would have
noticed had his fucking not gone from purposeful to somethign else. I had a
worried expression on my face as I tried to figure out what had happened.
It didn't take long, with him still staring intently at my eyes.
I hadn't gone to school that morning. I hadn't gone out at all. Which
meant my precious Icy contacts were still in their case, instead of masking
my one blue eye and one green eye like they were supposed to. Having my
eyes highlighted by the track lights only made the difference more
prominent.
He had seen my green eye, the one that looked like a gian agate marble,
staring straight up at him in the light. And he must have thought I was
some kind of monster.
He kept moving in and out of me, out of necessity now rather than pleasure.
The only reason he kept on going was that he was too close to orgasm to stop
now. With tears in my eyes, I clenched my vaginal musches in time to his
thrusting, helping him get off as quickly as he could. He finally came,
grunting and pushing up into me with all the lust he could muster.
He stayed with me for a few minutes, then dressed and left, saying that he
didn't want my parents to catch him there. He must have forgotten that my
parents weren't due to be back for several hours more, and that they had
said it would be okay for him to comve over. But I didn't fight him as he
left my room and showed himself out of my house. I heard my front door
slam, then the sound of his car screeching down the street.
I cried for hours in my bed before finally falling asleep, my eyes burning
with hatred for themselves.
I tried to keep my chin up when I saw him in school the next Monday. I
tried to look him straight in the eye, but when he saw the Icy pair instead
of the monstrous green of the other night, he found that he had nothing to
say to me. And I found that I had nothing at all to say to him.
Two things never happened again after that day. He and I never spoke to
each other, and I never again left my room without putting in my color
contacts.
Are my eyes really the windows to my soul? You be the judge. But there's
so much more to this story than just my icy perception. I want to tell it
all, if you'll let me.
Marit Larsen
minimarit@hotmail.com
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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