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From: "MiniMarit" <minimarit@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Girl: My Story part 3 (m/f semi-nc, caution) 3/20
Date: Wed, 17 May 2000 11:10:08 -0400
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Girl: My Story part 3
by Marit Larsen

    The hardest part about remembering all this that I'm writing is the fact
that I actually remmber it all with perfect clarity.  I know now why I'm
writing this too.  It took me writing two parts of it, but now I know why.
I can't really get into the why part of this until close to the end, so
you'll just have to wait.  It just felt good to know that I know why I'm
doing all this now.

    But one thing I don't know, even today, is why I ran away from that boy
on the playground.  I was probably just scared.  And if I was scared then,
you can imagine how petrified I was when the boy showed up at my doorstep
the next day.

    I had no idea how he knew where I lived.  I was sure he hadn't followed
me home that night.  But the answer was in the bag I had left in the
playground.  It had my library card in it, which had my address.  He had
looked up my address on a map and brought my bag back to me.

    I blushed.  I felt really stupid for running away the day before, but I
had no idea how I could repay him for it.    I opened the bag to reach for
the ten dollar bill I knew was in there.  Just as I got it, he waved his
hand to turn it down, then said that if I really wanted to repay him, all I
had to do was go for a walk with him.

    At first I didn't want to go.  Then I remembered what was in that bag -
my wallet, my Gemini charm, and my precious spare contact lenses - and I
knew that he was right; I owed it to him.  I told my mom I was going to go
for a walk.

    The whole time, I was terrified that he was going to put some move on
me.  I looked down at my feet as we walked around the neighborhood.  I
didn't have the courage, not after what happened yesterday, to look him in
the eye.  He tried to start up some conversation, but I wouldn't cooperate.
I only gave short answers to anything he asked about.  To his credit, he did
a fair job of holding up the conversation on his own.

    But true to his word, all we did was walk.  We ended up back at the
playground where I was just the night before.  When I saw those familiar
grounds, I finally loosened up.  He started asking stuff about me again,
just little things, and this time I was more generous with my answers.  He
opened up a lot about himself too.

    I found out he had just finished seventh grade and that he was thirteen
years old.  That seemed so old to me back then, even though I was only a
year younger.  He played hockey for his school, and baseball when there
wasn't any ice.  He had an older brother who moved out of home to go to
college in Maine, where he was part of the school's hockey team which would
later win the national championship.

    We sat on a little hill for a long time, just talking back and forth,
when I noticed we had been gone for nearly two hours.  I told him that I
really needed to go home.  On the way back, he asked if I could come over to
his place the next day.  He lived just a few streets down from me.  I
agreed.

    When I got home, I didn't know whether to be happy for myself or scared
out of my mind.  I finally met a guy who at least seemed nice, but who's to
say he wouldn't jump me the second I walked in the door?  I reasoned that I
wouldn't be able to tell for sure until the next day.  That didn't help at
all.  But it didn't change the fact that I had agreed to go.

    I showed up at his place the next day.  He had a friend over too, and I
recognized him as one of the guys he was playing football with in the park a
few days ago.  I thought at first this was a blessing.  He wouldn't put a
move on me with his friend there, would he?

    I was right.

    He didn't put a move on me the whole time, not even so much as trying to
hold my hand.  But his friend was another story.

    His friend didn't put a move on me.  That would have been far too kind.
I think there's some kind of guy code, one that says you're not supposed to
hit on a girl your friend invited.  But I also think part of this secret
pact is that you have to help your friend get some from her.  That's what
happened.

    Half of the afternoon went okay, then suddenly his friend started saying
how I must be a lesbian

    When I was twelve, I barely knew what a lesbian was.  I had a vague
idea, and I knew enough to know that I wasn't one.  And all I could think of
to do was defend my honor.  I fought back the best I could, but he just kept
teasing.

    I had to try really hard to fight back tears.  I looked over at my
friend, but he didn't say a word.  Looking back now, I swear they planned
the whole thing.  We kept arguing for about fifteen minutes, his friend
insisting that I only liked girls, me insisting that I was only interested
in boys.

    Then he drops the final bomb.  The only way I could prove that I'm
straight is if I slept with one of them.  I could feel my face going pale,
but I didn't have a choice.  I agreed.  Then I said I really needed to go
home.  Nobody volunteered to walk me out.

    I honestly can't tell you what happened the rest of that week.  I think
all I did was stare at myself in the mirror and wonder what in the world was
happening to me.  Just one month ago, I was just a happy kid, and now I'm
being forced into being a woman.  It's like I lost control of everything.

    About two or three days later, I got a call from his friend saying that
everything was ready.

    I remember very clearly every step to his house.  I remember the way the
clouds loked like they would start to rain later that afternoon, and that I
needed to head home before that happened.  I remember the way the bees were
flying around the clovers and the way the magpies were cris-crossing in the
sky.  And I remember the four steps that led up to his front door.

    He let me in, and we went to the TV room.  He turned the TV on to some
music videos, and we just sat for about ten minutes in total silence.

    I have no idea why he did that.  We both knew why I was there, but he
was still acting shy about it.  I didn't get it at all.  I thought it was
another trick or something.

    Finally, just as I was about to get up to leave, he gets up too and sort
of pulls me down onto the floor with him.  I guess he thought that's what I
was getting up to do.  I pulled away a bit, shocked at his bold move.  He
wanted to do it right there on the floor.  I told him I at least wanted to
go somewhere a little nicer.  He got up, helped me to my feet, and led me
down the hall.

    We made it as far as the foyer before he pulled me down again, right
there on the floor rug by the front door.

    For about ten minutes, he kissed me and felt me up through my shirt.  I
kissed back a little, but pretty much just let him have his way with me.  I
don't know what I was thinking, I think I was just in some sort of daze.
Then he backed up from me for a second, and asked how I wanted to do it.  I
told him I didn't know.  So he unzipped his jeans and asked for a blow job.

    It was the first time I had actually seen a cock.  It looked to me like
a weapon, and that impression stuck with me for a long time after that.

    Taking it into my mouth the first time scared me witless.  I only took
the head in at first, but his hand on the back of my head shoved me down all
the way on it.  He didn't have a very big cock, but it was long enough to
push against the back of my throat.  I gagged as he stabbed me with it.

    It became clear after only a short time that I wouldn't be able to make
him cum from sucking him.  He pulled away from me and started to take my
clothes off of me.  Numble, I let him.  He had all my clothes off very
quickly.

I think it was the next day that I started wearing a bra.  I reasoned that
if I had a bra on that day, it would have delayed him just a bit longer,
enough maybe for me to gather my senses as he struggled with the clasp.
Maybe that split second would have given me the courage to run.

But as it was, I didn't have anythign on under my shirt, and he had me naked
very quickly.  He shed his clothes off just as fast as he took mine off.
Then we were both sitting there, naked on the rug that was just inside his
front door.

I just sat there, not sure what to do next.  It turned out that he knew
exactly what he wanted.  He lay me down on my back and spread my legs.  I
didn't know what he was going to do at first, but his intentions became
pretty clear when he put his head between my legs and started licking my
pussy.

Hedidn't have any technique at all, just random laps and licks wherever his
tongue could reach.  I felt him kiss my cunt the way he would have kissed my
mouth, probing his tongue into every place he could feel.  It was both
shocking and pleasant.  Revolting in the sense that I couldn't imagine any
person wanting to taste a girl's pussy juices, but somehow insanely
wonderful at the same time.  Every lick he gave me
sent a warm wave of sensation to my belly.  I started to breathe harder.

     He stopped for a second, and I came so close to moaning in dismay that
the licking had stopped.  But instead of stopping, he lay onto his side and
pulled me onto him in a
sixty-nine position.  My head rested on his thigh as he resumed his oral
assault.  His cock was inches in front of my mouth.  I started to lick the
head, inspired by the way he touched his tongue on my pussy.  It was easier
to do this and enjoy it without his hand pushing me further onto him.

     The intensity of my licks increased as the heat from my sex did.  I put
my lips around his shaft, licking his head all around like I was
french-kissing it.  As he continued to lick me, I lost track of my work on
him, laying back to concentrate on the sensation.

     I think he guessed that I was getting too distracted, so he pushed me
off of him onto my back.  He turned his body around and put his cock right
in line with my opening.  Before I could move or protest, I felt his cock
skewer straight into my womb.

     My head snapped back as I flexed every muscle in my body from reflex.
I gripped his body tightly with my legs, my arms holding onto his neck.  I
crushed my body against his as I
shook from the pressure and tightness in my vagina.  I remember shrieking in
a mix of pain and pleasure from being so wonderfully and mercilessly filled.
He stopped his movement for a split second out of consideration for my
miniature seizure, but that was the only mercy he showed me.

     He moved in and out of me slowly at first, but with more and more
excitement with every thrust.  I don't remember feeling any arousal or even
any pain through my first penetration.  All I was aware of was being filled,
being stretched to what seemed like my limit.  I could feel my pussy
expanding with every stab he gave me.  Each move seemed to touch deep inside
of me, much further than the depth of my vagina.  It's like he was inside
all of me, in every cell of my body.  His presence inside me almost made me
want to puke from being so full.  At the same time, I couldn't bring myself
to pull away from him.

     Finally I felt him stop his thrusting as he came inside me.  I felt
every single spurt inside my now relaxing pussy.  When he finally pulled
out, it was like he took the rest of me with him, and I started feeling very
empty.

     Without any further ceremony, he began to get dressed.  And not knowing
what else to do, I got dressed too.  I think he said bye to me as he opened
the door, but I couldn't be
sure.  I know I didn't say anything.

     I don't remember the walk home at all.

     All I remember from that night was not being able to concentrate on my
chicken sandwich that night at dinner.  I also remember not being able to
sleep.  All I could do was
think that I was no longer a virgin.

     I had lost something else yet again.  Something more
valuable than anything I had ever lost before.  Innocence was
something I knew I could never get back.

     I was the ultimate loser.  That's what I remember
thinking as I cried until dawn.

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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