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“Why am here? I hate Sunday school,” I said to myself in my head. I had completely tuned out the bitch quoting some church propaganda about abstinence. That seems to be the only thing they preached to us teens in our Sunday school youth group. I stared at the window and caught my own reflection. As the bitch droned on and on about Christ and virginity and whatever else, I saw myself. I certainly looked like I belonged there. I wore a pink cashmere sweater, long knee length, grey pencil skirt, a gold cross on a chain around my neck, saddle shoes, my strawberry blonde hair coifed out to look like a Stepford wife, and almost no makeup. I was brainwashed for so long and I was sitting there letting them continue their brainwashing. I squeezed my head between my hands hoping that my head would pop. When it didn’t, I looked around the room.
There was Brad, the captain of the football team, the jock with perfect abs and his good boy haircut, my former boyfriend who tried to rape me, smiling and nodding at the church lady as she spoke. Phony!
There was Tiffany with her flaxen blonde hair and sky blue eyes, a Barbie wannabe, new cheerleader captain, my so called BFF, with her big fake smile, with her perfect teeth, pretending to agree with every word the church lady spoke. I couldn’t believe that I had been in love with her. I was an idiot. I wanted to punch her perfect face. Phony!
The class was filled with high school seniors like myself. It was all the good kids from good homes and families, all white and all protestant. I bet all their parents voted Republican. I know mine did. There were about thirty of us which was far from every senior in our school. Sure, it was a small town in Connecticut with only one high school but we were preppies from the right side of the tracks. I stared at their faces and phony smiles, sucking up all that church bullshit. I wanted to puke. I wanted to be anywhere else and away from all those hypocrites.
I wasn’t any better though, really. I had always been one of them. I looked at my reflection and wanted to punch my own upturned button nose right in the middle of the freckles. I stared at myself, loathing the sheep that I had become. My green eyes stared back at myself. “No more!” I told myself. “Don’t be a sheep anymore. You know who you are. You’re eighteen, you can think for yourself. Don’t be a sheep anymore Molly Stevens,” I said in my head. I kept jabbing a fingernail into my thigh. I told myself I deserved the pain and it was the only thing making me feel alive.
“Molly! Molly!” the church lady, Mrs. Gibbons yelled at me. She had a stern and upset look on her pinched, needed to get fucked face. She caught me not paying attention.
“What?” I asked rudely. I was perturbed for being interrupted from my thoughts. I looked at her with distaste. Sitting upright and staring at her I awaited the question again. Some of the other kids were giggling at me for getting busted. They all expected to see me squirm and beg forgiveness. I wouldn’t give any of them the satisfaction.
Mrs. Gibbons repeated her question with a tone of anger in her voice, “What does Jesus say about the sanctity of virtue, Molly?” All eyes were on me, most of the kids sniggering and holding in their laughter. I knew which chapter and verse she wanted me to quote. I had the best marks in Theology class and all my other classes for that matter. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
I stood up straight, let out a deep breath and said in a clear voice, “He probably never said anything about it. It doesn’t matter anyway because it’s all bullshit. This is all church propaganda being shoved down our throats. There aren’t any virgins in this class anyway, so what’s the point?” There was stone cold silence except for the odd gasp of air. You could have heard a pin drop. Mouths hung open on everyone’s face.
The silence dragged on for a long time as Mrs. Gibbons tried to compose herself and think of something to say. She stared at me in disbelief. “Molly Stevens, you, you… Your parents and Reverend Baker will hear about this. More importantly though young lady, what will God think of what you just said?” she finally mustered. She was flushed red and shaking from being caught off guard like that.
As I gathered up my purse and jacket, I calmly replied, “It doesn’t matter Mrs. Gibbons. I am an atheist so I don’t believe in any gods or devils or heavens or hells. I’m done here. Goodbye.” I walked calmly and gracefully to the door and let myself out. The church was still in congregation as I walked out the back. Once out in the parking lot, I pulled out my cell phone and texted my Mom, “Left church early, walking home, nothing to worry about, see you at home.”
I took a deep breath and let it out. I smiled and was happy with myself for the first time in ages. I held my head up high and enjoyed the autumn air as I walked home. “That’s the first step,” I told myself. I put in my ear buds and turned on my iPod. My default play list was modern punk rock music. The first song was “Jesus of Suburbia” by Green Day. I laughed at the irony. I removed the cross necklace from my neck and put it in my purse.
Later on when the rest of my family arrived home back from church, my parents were steaming. I was expecting it. I had already changed antalya escort into a comfortable, but plain tee shirt and yoga pants. I was in the kitchen, preparing vegetables for Sunday dinner still dancing to the music from my iPod. Joan Jett was playing when they cornered me in the kitchen. They both had hands on hips in an authoritative and pissed off stance. I pulled the ear buds from my ears and faced them. “Hi, I got an early start on dinner. I just put the ham in the oven,” I said and bit into a carrot likes Bugs Bunny.
They sent my twelve year old little brother up to his room so they could scold me privately. Once he was upstairs, they laid into me. “Just who do you think you are young lady?” “Are you out of your mind?” “What were you thinking?” “We are shocked. We can’t believe you said those things.” “You embarrassed our whole family.” “You are going back there and apologizing to Mrs. Gibbons and Reverend Baker.” They came at me in staccato bursts. I kept my cool.
When they finally ran out of things to say, I asked, “Is it my turn now? May I speak?” Looking at the blank expressions on their faces, I cleared my throat and began, “Mom, Dad, I mean no disrespect to you. I simply spoke my mind. I am eighteen now. I am an adult and I am entitled to my own opinions and beliefs. I have been an atheist now for some time. I will not go back to church again. You cannot force me to. I’ve thought about this long and hard and I have made an educated and informed decision. Freedom of religion means the right to decide for every individual and I’ve made my decision.”
My dad argued, “That’s right, you’re only eighteen, so what makes you think you’re an expert in religion young lady?”
“How about my ninety-nine in Theology class?” I retorted.
I picked up the cross necklace from the counter and handed it back to my Dad.
“This was Nana’s. I’m giving it back to you. If you want to give it to Jimmy on his communion then go ahead. Otherwise, I won’t be wearing it anymore,” I said.
The blank stares continued. I seemed to have baffled them as they had no instant reply. Father finally mustered, “Mrs. Gibbons said that you swore at her.”
I sighed. “I didn’t swear at her Dad. I did use the word bullshit however when I was describing my opinion of the topic. I’m sure she’s heard that before. It wasn’t directed at her personally. She over reacted and obviously exaggerated about the whole thing.” I waited for the next one.
Mother was next. “She said that you accused everyone in your class of not being virgins,” was her best shot.
“Probably because that’s true Mom. Not that it’s a crime. They make such a big deal about it. So what if we’ve had sex? Big deal,” I replied. Mom grew flush like Mrs. Gibbons had earlier. She needed to sit down. My dad helped her sit. My dad looked angry.
He looked intently at me, “So, are you saying that you’re not a virgin Molly?”
I finished my carrot and shrugged my shoulders, “Well, that’s my business but in the spirit of open conversation I’ll tell you. No, I’m not a virgin. I’m a normal eighteen year old girl with sexual desires. There! Happy?”
Mom was flustered. “Who? When? How did we not know?” she babbled.
“Mom, that’s my business. I chose not to tell you for that reason and also, I knew you would over react like this. This isn’t nineteen fifty. Saving yourself for marriage is a myth. Nobody does that anymore. Besides, I’m a smart and responsible girl. I used protection so I wouldn’t be exposed to diseases or get pregnant,” I informed my heart broken parents. I returned to putting the veggies in the steamer and checked on the boiling potatoes. “You guys get changed, I’ll set the table. Maybe you could smash the potatoes for me Dad?” I continued as if nothing had happened.
The rest of the night was tense. They were less angry with me but just as much disappointed. They had been trying to come up with a better angle. I sat respectfully quiet during the longer than usual grace, not wanting to upset them any further but I didn’t pray and didn’t say “amen”. Dad added in some comment about returning to Jesus’ flock. Nice try.
As we cleaned dishes, Mom tried another approach. “Molly, you were front runner for the church scholarship. That’s worth a lot of money for college. It may not be too late to try to fix this…,” She was saying before I interrupted.
“Mom, that scholarship was only for Oral Roberts University. I don’t want to go there, or any other Christian school. I’m aiming for Ivy league and I still have a lot of other potential scholarships and bursaries. Don’t worry. I’m straight A’s still,” I reasoned. She sighed. I could tell she felt defeated. I gave her a hug to let her know that I still loved her. She warmed up a bit after that. It would take time.
I excused myself and said, “I’ve got a little reading to do for school tomorrow, so I’ll be up in my room. Please don’t worry about me and don’t hate me. I’m just growing up.” I was finally in the sanctity of my own room with the door closed. My room was quite big with a computer desk, book shelf, a queen size bed, a makeup table and mirror, a full length mirror, two chests of drawers and one large closet. The room was way too pink for my liking. Nothing against the color pink, lara escort but it looked like Barbie through up everywhere. My only cool things were posters of Taylor Momsen and Natalia Kills and an anarchy sticker on my makeup mirror. My Mom hated the posters and had no idea what the anarchy sticker was.
I changed out of my clothes and put on my night shirt with nothing else on underneath. It was one of my Dad’s old white business shirts. It was loose on me and comfortable and gave me easy access to my body. Propping my feet up on the desk, I put on my headphones. I selected my old school play list which was filled with the Ramones, the Clash, the Sex Pistols, Joan Jett, and many other pioneers of punk rock. I needed that rebel music to get me through the day. Once I was in my zone, I got on the internet and found my favorite erotic writing page, Literotica.com. It had been my indulgence for a while. I was never going to learn a thing about sex from my parents so every night before bed, I read a story or two. I immediately went to the lesbian stories to see what was new. I had been in all the categories to see what I liked best. I found some of the BDSM stuff interesting, especially submissive nature. Some of the incest stuff got me hot, usually if it involved sisters or twins in particular. It was the lesbian stories though that had really heated me up.
For all my life, I had been fed the propaganda that homosexuality was bad, mainly by the church but my school peers weren’t much better. I was glad that our school was a public school however and promoted tolerance, acceptance and anti-bullying officially. At least it did on paper. There was an LGBTQ club at our school which my so-called friends often mocked.
For a number of months, I had felt that I was leaning more toward liking girls rather than boys. My experiences with boys had left me unfulfilled and far from thrilled. Sure, being the good girl all those years and considered pretty, I had plenty of guys ask me out. It was always the popular boys too which made a lot of other girls jealous. I dated some of them more out of peer pressure and obligation than desire. I dated Frank Robertson for a year and I never put out past second base. I used the excuse of the church chastity program as my defense. I actually just didn’t get turned on from him.
I broke up with Frank about a month before junior prom. My BFF Tiffany had recently had a breakup too so we decided to go to prom together. I thought it would be scandalous. I was hoping to cause some commotion with it. Problem was, there were already real gay couples in school so we weren’t shocking anyone. Still, the fact that we were both cheerleaders and preppies should have caused a stir. The thing was that I had been secretly harboring a crush on Tiffany for a while. When she was around me, I had feelings that I never got from any boy.
At the prom, Tiffany seemed pissed that we had failed to attract attention too. That’s when I suggested we slow dance together. When my body was pressed up tight to hers in our expensive gowns, my knees grew weak and I had a deep desire to kiss her. Suddenly, to my surprise, Tiffany had whispered to me while we danced, “Look at al the boys staring at us now. I bet they’re all getting boners, hoping for a lezzy kiss. How about we give them a little show?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. She was asking me for a kiss. It didn’t matter to me why she did. It was what I was hoping for. I didn’t wait to give her an answer. I just pressed my lips to hers and fulfilled my dream. I took her by surprise. She tensed up at first but eased into it. I opened my mouth and let my tongue explore the inside her mouth. She started getting into it and we made out for most of the song. My pussy was dripping wet and I knew my panties were soaked. No boy’s kiss had ever caused that. I squeezed Tiffany tightly and my hands roamed her body. When I squeezed her ass, Tiffany broke our kiss and pushed me off. Only then did I realize that we had a large and appreciative audience. The kids were clapping and the boys made rude remarks.
Tiffany held me at arms length. She looked at me with her big blue eyes and smeared lipstick and said, “Wow, Molly. You were really getting into it there. That was a pretty convincing performance. You were starting to scare me. Cool off now, it worked. Look at the attention. I thing Jason wants to dance with me now. Brad’s looking at you. Go get him.” I was so disappointed. I didn’t want Brad, I wanted Tiffany. It was real for me.
Ever since that night, Tiffany would go out of her way to say anti-gay things. She was always mocking the gay kids at school and using “gay” as an adjective for anything negative. She was also keeping a safe distance from me.
The worst happened at our cheer camp just before school started. Tiffany was supposed to hold me up on one of the positions which included putting her hand on my butt. I trusted her but when I leaned into the position her hand wasn’t there and I fell. I landed hard and sprained my wrist while breaking my fall. I wore a cast for two weeks and have worn a tensor bandage since then. That meant no cheering for me this fall. I sat on the bench and helped with the calls but couldn’t perform any stunts. Tiffany made captain. manavgat escort I ended up collecting pom-poms and shit. I felt useless on the team. Lately, I hated the whole thing. They were all stuck up cunts, especially Tiffany. They used their status as cheerleaders to elevate themselves above “regular” girls. I was sick of it. It was mid October and my wrist was fine but I still wore the tensor bandage at school as an excuse to not participate in cheer. I made a mental reminder to do something about that on Monday.
I finally lost my cherry on the Labor day weekend at the beach. Tiffany and I were sunbathing in bikinis. Some boys started showing off near us to get our attention. Tiffany seemed to enjoy teasing them. When they came over to talk, she told them to, “Fuck off.”
I really wasn’t interested either but I thought she was harsh. One of the guys had a nice build, spiky black hair, a nice smile and had some cool tattoos. I excused myself to go to the bathrooms. On the way I intercepted tattoo boy. I apologized for Tiffany’s behavior. He introduced himself as Marty. He seemed real nice and very interested in me. My body was tight from gymnastics and cheerleading. I had decent B cup boobs for my age too and a firm round ass. My skin is usually quite fair and I have freckles which go with my reddish blonde hair but I had a bit of a tan as it was late summer. My little black bikini showed off my tight teen body. He asked me my age and I told him that I just turned eighteen. He was twenty. We walked back to the rest area together and he bought me a Pepsi.
We started on our way back when I spotted the private change huts on the beach. I spotted an empty one and dragged Marty by his wrist over to it. Once inside I locked the door. I just wanted to do it. I wasn’t lusting after Marty as much as I wanted to lose my virginity. I kissed Marty hard which took him by surprise but his hard on was pressing into my hip through his trunks so I knew he’d do it. I quickly took of my bathing suit and wrapped my leg around him. We kissed again as Marty dropped his trunks and his cock sprung up against my belly. I wasn’t very wet so I dropped to my knees and sucked on his erection for a few minutes while I fingered myself. I had a condom in my purse that I had been saving for an emergency. I slipped it on Marty’s cock. When I was ready, I sat on the bench and Marty mounted me. It wasn’t what I was expecting. It felt okay but I wasn’t enjoying it like I thought I might. Marty pumped away at me for a while before I told him I wasn’t comfortable.
We adjusted ourselves. I stood up and bent over with my ass facing him. Marty grabbed my hips and reinserted himself in my vagina. He pumped me from behind like a jackhammer. Since I wasn’t facing him, I closed my eyes and starting imagining that it was a girl behind me fucking me with a strap on. I started rubbing my clit with my fingers as I got fucked. That made it better for me and I loosened up. My twat got wetter which lubricated his thrusts better. I was really jacking my clit and imagining Tiffany fucking me. I almost came but Marty blew his load before I finished. I suddenly felt really awkward. I put my bikini back on and Marty put his trunks back on. He threw the used rubber in the trash and started kissing me again. He was very appreciative and complimented me over and over. He wanted to exchange phone numbers but I said, “no thank you.” He had served a purpose for me and it was over.
Later, Tiffany had quizzed me about my long absence. “I saw you walking with that gross tattoo loser. What the fuck happened Molly?” she inquired.
“First of all Tiffany, he wasn’t a loser. Marty was cool. As a matter of fact, I fucked him in the change hut. It was awesome,” I replied. I lied about the last bit but I was doing it for effect. She was the only person I ever told about that. Somehow though, word got around that I fucked some skid at the beach. I heard a few of the cheerleaders whispering “slut” behind my back.
It was shortly after that when I was at a house party hosted by Brad the football captain. All the cheerleaders were there so I went along. I had gone on a few dates with Brad more out of peer pressure than anything. I never did anything with him though. We weren’t going steady either. I just wasn’t interested in sex with him. Later that night, Brad cornered me coming out of the bathroom and forced me into his room. He mauled my tits and tried to kiss me. He was too strong for me to push off plus I had the sprained wrist. His hand reached under my cheer skirt and grabbed my pussy. He was trying to get my spanks off which was tough. He kept saying, “Come on slut, I know what a cock whore you are.” Finally I fell back on the bed. He stood over me and unzipped his pants. He pulled out his cock and proudly started stroking it to hardness. I used his vulnerability at the moment and kicked him full power in his balls. He doubled over. I stood up and drove my knee up into them a second time for insurance. Then I picked up one of his football trophies from his night stand and clobbered him in the back of his head, knocking him out cold. I spit on him and marched out of his house. I went home and took a long shower. I should have ratted him out but he got the worst of it. Surprisingly, he had everyone’s sympathy on the following Monday. He had told everyone that I seduced him and when he was vulnerable, I attacked him. No one was believing my attempted rape story because I was a “slut” and Brad was the all-American hero. That gave me more reason to hate my so-called friends.
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