Losing It

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Always wanted her. Never could. Fucked it up with my mouth every time. The words never come out right, but the love is definitely there. Right there. Always. We are always touching, always cuddling, always laughing together, always joking and flirting and not quite talking about our own sexual tension. We are always doing these things. Except when she’s with one of the ten boyfriends she jumps between.

Them– they are all older by about five years, which is quite a little bit when you are eighteen. They are all the bandy type. They are a bunch of nice Modest Mice, yet the most stuck up, self absorbed pricks I’ve ever met, and they are all friends with each other. In dark moments I think about her with one of them for half a second before I cringe or grunt or start talking out loud to myself to get it the fuck out of my head. In darker moments I think about her with all of them. Sometimes she takes them one at a time, sometimes all at once. At these times I think about it for hours. Sometimes I jack off. Sometimes I think about it until I get depressed and I call her and we talk for hours instead. But the worst times of all are when I see her and her boyfriend of the moment together and I think that maybe they love each other, and that maybe he’s wondering why I talk to her for hours on the phone, and that he is standing in the way of true love.

Anyways that’s Lila and me. We are friends, and all of the sexual tension in the world will not be broken to make us anything but friends. Either I say something stupid, or she says something calculatingly cold to keep me away before I get the chance. Plus she always keeps herself tied down with her boyfriends, even if it’s just a two week fling. She is a monogamist in the worst way, but I wish she’d do the same to me. Though I’d love to date the girl that’s been worth a thirteen year wild-chickenshit-goosechase (yes from age five!), a screw would do. Maybe we are both afraid of the intimacy it would bring, and that we could never turn back. And maybe I’m so chicken-shit because what I want more than anything is for her to do this as a favor. I need to lose my virginity, and she has been the most likely person to take it from me for so long that she is probably now the least likely. Plus, why would she want to take me down this path of teaching and giving and caring when she can get premium thrills from guys who are as experienced as she is?

She’s too good. She’s a nerd, she’s a smart ass, she’s funny as hell. She’s pretty and petite and supremely cool. Her favorite Pokemon is Tangla, and if you don’t know which one that is, you don’t know her, and you probably wouldn’t like her because she doesn’t give a fuck what you think. And she’s coming over right now to bring me camping with her friends. And– she’s single for this second in her adult life.

And I’m always single.


Doorbell rings. I say goodbye to my roommates and answer the door. No sooner have I opened the door than she reaches out and gives me a hug around my waist, pushing herself into me, burying her face in my chest. She pulls back, leaving a print of her pale foundation on my shirt. I always die.

“Hey boo boo,” she says beaming up at me, a hand on her hip, fingering the dimple on her cheek. Man, she is corny today. She’s got on a white short-sleeved blouse with ruffled sleeves that barely cowl her bony shoulders. Little roses dot it. Under it she’s got a tiny white tank top on. No bra (no need, no tits). White high wasted shorts cover her barely there ass and she’s got her white Keds on her tiny feet. She’s got bleached pixie hair with a big black flower clip in it.

Camping huh? I take it all in with jerking eyeballs until my eyes meet hers. She is still looking at me the same way in the same pose. Has time stopped? I wish it would and I could stare into her shining green eyes forever. I can’t. She’s waiting for some reaction. I just chuckle.

“‘Sappnin”? You look ready to camp,” I say.

“God shut up asshole. You sound like my brother.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“No,” she says. But is it a good thing? I still wonder. She gets over my asshole comment and puts her arm around my waist on our walk out to the car. “Whatcha bring?”

“Hamburger meat, snacks, a handle of cheap Canadian whisky. All the shit you guys don’t like,” I tease. They are all vegetarians and wine drinkers. Except Rosa, she likes tequila, but only when she’s letting loose.

“Aww nothing for me?”

“Well I–“

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We’ll just let you get drunk and who knows? Maybe we’ll take advantage you…”

My mind goes wild. I can only imagine these three petite girls doing all their work on me. Lola is sitting backwards on my face, her round Latina butt hangs heavy, my Şirinevler escort nose in her hole; Derry straddles my middle, kissing the moans away from Rosa; and Lila rides me, taking command, telling Rosa and Derry what to do, how to do it. Maybe Lila even takes me in her ass when she’s had enough in her pussy. All of my pornographic fantasies run through my head, because, well, I don’t have anything real to go off of. I know it isn’t real, but the possibility goads me.

At the same time though, this is an incredibly awkward thing that Lila said to me. She knows, without us ever having to discuss it, that I’m a virgin. Probably from my bashful, distant reactions to comments such as this one.

“Haha not if I rape you first..” I say. Yep, I went there. You gotta give back if you don’t want to be taking shit forever.

“Oh my god, we are going camping together. It’s creepy enough already,” Lila says, “but it isn’t rape if you want it right?”


We get in the van. I sit in back with Derry, a shy blonde with a cute little face and a happy voice.

“Hey Daryl,” says Derry.

“Hey Daryl,” says Rosa from the front seat.

Rosa’s got her black polka-dot skirt and blouse on and Derry her green summer dress. God, this bunch, I think. Styling with ease, but definitely not campers. I look through the cooler that’s between Derry and me: Boca Burgers, veggie dogs, produce and condiments, many a can of Tecate and a bottle of White Zin. I drop my meat in as the music kicks in. A free CD from some local Portland area band. Friends of the girls, I suppose.

“Nice! got some Tecate ready to go!” I say over the visceral screaming on the stereo. “Your doing, right Rosa?”

“Haha, yeah. I’m bringing a taste of home with me… I stole them out of the garage,” she admits shyly.

“Don’t worry about it, your dad doesn’t need any more Tecate anyway,” I say.

“Fuck you, your ma’s an alcoholic,” she says back in a pretty decent Irish accent. We laugh. There’s a lot that Rosa and I have a lot in common that goes unspoken. We are both Catholic. We are both half Irish, and we both know what I’m after tonight, so she’ll stay out of my way. Maybe she’ll help a little bit. We always have had each other’s backs in the past.

“I got us a big bottle of port in my bag,” Lila says looking at me in the mirror.

I take it out of the bag in the back seat to look. It simply says PORT on the front. Some details in Portuguese are on the back, 22%, for example. Simple, sweet, and silly, this is these girls in a bottle. I put it back in Lila’s bag, lie back, close my eyes and return to the pornographic reverie I was having fifteen minutes earlier as we speed into the Oregon woods on this sunny August day.

I wake up from a disturbing wet dream, but that’s usually where wet dreams end up, even if that’s not where they start. There’s a wet spot where precum seeped through my pants, but it isn’t really noticeable, and it’s par for my course these days. We all start moving our goods across the dirt road to the campsite: the kindling, the cooler, the tent, the sleeping bags and backpacks, the boombox, the booze. After a late start, the six o’clock sun is well behind the trees. Rosa sets up her older brother’s tent, calling on Derry for help. She might as well wink at me afterward because this means it’s Lila and me together on the other tent. We make the fire and eat as the sun goes down.

I’ve been so hungry all day, in so many ways. It’s time to relax and enjoy the company. This is why we all hang out together. Sometimes my sexually frustrated soul forgets. We tell stories, tell a lot of jokes, and talk about nothing in particular at all. We could catch up, all four of us, on everything we’ve missed while we’ve been enjoying summer separately, but we just kick back, drink, and laugh. Rosa suggests we freestyle which means we all need to loosen our tongues. I open the whisky, pop off the slow pour cap, tip it back and feel the warm, gritty mouthful of the toxic liquid gush down the back of my tongue and throat into my belly. I fight against it and pass it on. No ifs ands or buts, everyone takes a pull. Then we freestyle until we can’t hear ourselves over the others’ laughs and heckles.

Before I know it, we are out of wine and Port, halfway down the handle, and Rosa has been drinking beer like water. I take a second from laughing and stumbling to look around me. Holy shit! we are drunker than we ever got in middle school. We are crashing into each other, laughing hysterically, and Magical Mystery Tour is blaring in the background. I’ll be damned if we weren’t living the Magical Mystery Tour. Derry starts to puke somewhere just outside of the campfire’s light and Rosa goes to help. It’s Şirinevler escort bayan time to bring this blurry carousel ride of a night to and end.

I pick up Lila and carry her into the tent like it’s our wedding night. I fall to my knees and let her thud out of my arms onto the sleeping mats. We pull a sleeping bag over us without thinking to get in and I spoon her tightly. Our big winter jackets come comfortably between us. Lila has the most content smile on her face I think I’ve ever seen since I’ve known her. She has no front, no tricks, no sarcasm. Her heavy makeup is smeared and faded. A couple blemishes on her cheeks show through.

She is so happy. She is happy to be in my arms. She’s happy I’m her friend and no more. She’s happy I’m too nice to ask more of her, so happy that no matter how many times she teases and tests, I don’t dare make a move. She is safe with me; she gets something from me that she doesn’t get from her lovers. She gets something simple, sweet and silly. She is wondering how long it will last. I put my head down on the pillow behind hers, smell the campfire laced with lavender and sweat in her hair, and feel the same happiness she feels. As I ride the seasickness that the special blend of alcohols afflicts me with, a final fractured thought of my missed opportunity blips across my mind. Something like, “God I would love to-…” and I sleep.


I wake up about three hours later with a bad taste in my mouth and a massive hard-on. I take a drink of water and lie back down next to Lila. I can’t sleep. I don’t remember what I was dreaming about but I am in bad need of a release.

I nudge Lila. Nothing. I rock her a little. “Lilaaa,” I whisper. Nothing. “Lilaaaa,” nothing… “Lil–“

“What?” she snaps. I’m taken aback, but I won’t be denied. I ease my hand between her legs over her shorts. She’s obviously annoyed, but not unreceptive. I press my cock against her little ass to let her know how ready I am. She rolls over and looks at me, “ugh, fine.”

We kiss, at first softly, but soon frantically. She sucks my tongue until it hurts. I bite her lip and pull her short hair at the back of her head until she lets my swollen tongue go. We are stripping off our own clothes and each others’. Her puffy Blazers jacket, my hoodie, her knee high socks, my jeans. I’m coming up on the sweet tickle and heat of sexual pleasure.

Then we are naked in the cold. We kiss and touch. Her clumsy little hands grab at my cock, stroking and squeezing my super-sensitive tip. I jump and twitch. Her touch is so rugged and foreign compared to anything I’ve felt before. Each contact sends me to near-orgasm. It’s not like the teasing through-the-pants touch of my soft handed high school sweetheart, nor is it like the familiar satisfaction of my own knowledgeable palm and fingers. It’s intense, hurried and hushed. I’m almost too distracted to reciprocate. I grope and grab at her unshaven mound. On a girl with her experience I would expect a well maintained crop of blonde bush, but it’s pretty clear that she did no upkeep at all. She doesn’t have to. There are just a few soft and scattered hairs along her slit and no more. All of these observations are complicating my horny brain, making me even more horny and in love.

I rub her clit through her labia, not daring to expose it. It’s only the second pussy I’ve felt in my life. I don’t dare expose the clit to my bare hands and the cold. I roll on top of her and we kiss like we were doing before. I scoot down, licking, biting, sucking and pulling her nipples and the heavy piercings she’s been hiding for years. I suck her entire breast into my mouth easily. I bite and tease with my tongue. I try to move down to her pussy, to taste her sweet, salty moisture, but she grabs me by my hair. I insist, tonguing her navel on my way down, but she insists harder, dragging me up to her lips. “No,” she coos. I try to enter without guiding my cock, and even after I do guide it with my hands, I have to have one fingertip inside her pussy to help.

It is horribly uncomfortable, the tip of my cock feels stretched and pained as I push farther in, getting just the head into a warm space. Why is this so difficult? I wonder. We continue to kiss passionately, but the sad truth is that Lila is dry as a Saltine cracker. The only thing that keeps me humping her tight, dry pussy is my foreskin, which serves as a sleeve that my cock-head slips in and out of… into her pussy… back into my skin.

“Shit!” Lila says and pushes me off and crawls away. She digs through her pack in the tent and pulls out her birth control. How many hours behind is she? Then my head whirls. Does she have any std’s? Well, too late, she crawls onto the mat next to me and we escort şirinevler are spooning again. At this moment I think she is ready to sleep, whatever moment we had now ruined, but instead she pushes her tight little rear into me and guides my cock into her furry pussy again.

From behind I can’t find the right angle at all, so once I can get my head in again I am hit with a stroke of inspiration. I shove my fingers into her mouth. Lila doesn’t seem like she wants to suck my fingers, but she lets them in. Once they are dripping wet I lower them to her pussy and dive two in at the same time as my cock… Lila moans.

“Ooowhhh…” she lets out. I finger faster than I can thrust, her pussy getting slightly moister every second. “Uh, uh, oooooohhhhhhh…” she lets out, loving the pain and pleasure of my cock and two fingers stretching her reluctant pussy wide. I pull out and roll her onto her back once again. My mind is racing. The mental pressure rivals the one growing in my loins. I feel the need to impress her.

I put my open hand on her throat as I thrust into her pussy. Still her dryness resists my full cock. Still only the tip reaches in and out, but she doesn’t resist my hand on her throat. I push down. I tighten my grip. She stares into my eyes. I tell her that I love her. She grabs my wrist as her eyes start to roll back into her head. They wander up from mine. As her emerald irises disappear, I let go. Her body rocks more fluidly with my thrusts. The stiff tension I felt in her before is gone. Is this what she wants? I can’t believe my instincts were right. Does she like this from every guy or am I the first? I wonder all these things and more. She comes back to our world, giving an alert look around as she remembers where she is and eases back into the motion of my hips on hers. As soon as she is completely with me again, she grabs my wrist and puts my hand back on her throat, and I do it all over.

I clench and lean on her throat. Pushing her head into the sleeping mat, her chin is forced downward on top of the back of my hand. Her glowing whiteness fades to a bluish paleness as her body changes again from tense to limp. My constant thrusts are getting faster. I get deeper into her musky hole, yet my precum and her drool still makes the majority of the lubrication. As I reach my apex of thrusting power and speed I let go of her throat again.

The slapping, pounding noise of us clashing together over and over sound like faint, distant claps to her oxygen deprived brain. Maybe she is hearing the footsteps of someone running on a dirt road, or a hammer hitting a nail on the roof of a house in the far off countryside. She wakes up to me spitting in her eye. Her vision is doubly blurry from the combination of drowsiness and spit in her eye.

“Fuuuuuck me…” she groans. I slam my cock into her pussy despite the dryness. Each time I go deep my foreskin is stretched back to extremes, but it is worth it. I dive deeper and deeper, faster and faster, until she wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me in. I can only wriggle until I cum. Each time I slap her face and spit on her she screams and pulls me in tighter with her legs.

“Fuck me, fuck me, ugh, yeah Daryl fuck meeee!!!” she screams. “Fucking hurt me baby, cum inside, yes, yes, fuck, me, ahhh…”

As she pulls me close for the last time I choke her hard. I punch her swollen red face with a sickening thud and let go. I collapse onto her, disgusted by my actions, left with more questions than answers, but somehow satisfied. I am still gushing, gushing, gushing in spurts. A dozen times long jets of sticky, creamy cum pour into her. It drips out of her pussy, down her ass and down my balls as I pull out my raw cock. It’s all over. She buries her pained face into my chest and tugs the rest of the semen out of my cock.

“Fucked up shit!” I hear Rosa say from the her tent. I peek a little bit of morning’s hazy blue light coming through the tent’s orange fabric. “Invite me next time okay locos?”

I laugh mentally, but I’m too drained and thought filled to laugh out loud. The whole ordeal was only fifteen minutes or so, but it was eye opening. I’d say “I love you” again to Lila, but I am afraid of the silence she’d give in return. I know that she has shown me everything of herself, and I’ve shown only a small part. It makes me wonder. Does she always choked? Is she always dry? Does she always get hit? Have I done something incredibly wrong? How will she remember this? And what exactly was this?


How crazy is it that Lila drove us back to Portland with a sore jaw, bruises on her neck, and a raw pussy? She was herself but I obviously wasn’t. She had returned to normal. She walked me to my door and we said goodbye. We said goodbye with a kiss on the lips. She stood on her toes and I bent down to meet those thin pink lines on her mouth with mine.

It was the last time we ever kissed. I would smell my fingers for days. The scent I could not wash away. As time goes by I don’t even remember what it was like to lose it completely.

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