My name is Abbie, and I’m going to tell the story of how I got fucked by a boy at school and almost immediately scared and then railed by my own dad.
It was late in my 5th grade year when I first felt the warmth and girth of a penis inside me. It was April, the month of spring, greenery, and new life – everything was blooming, singing, chirping, fucking and everything in between. It was my favourite month then, and remains so to this day, even moreso because of what I experienced in that first precious season of sexuality.
I had known the boy I had set my sights on for the entirety of the school year, and that was it. He was a seventh grader named Isaac that would sit at the same table I do at lunch – the “goth kid and rejects” table, as I understand it – and took a liking to me because I was usually the only one who would react to him when the whole table was talking and he said something particular. We ended up becoming fast friends, and I wanted us to be more, because even now I think he’s about as hot as someone close to my age can be. He’s got long hair that he keeps dyed black, but not weird black – and it’s smooth as a baby’s butt. Our school doesn’t allow makeup, but he would usually still do a tiny bit of eyeliner, which I found intensely hot on a guy. The final cherry on the sundae was his fashion sense and hygiene – he dressed like Marilyn Manson but smelled like Paula Dean. I was obsessed with him. Every time he sat with us, I would chat him up, and every time, I would hope he would so me if he could come over (to which, no doubt, I would enthusiastically reply “Yes!”).
One day, on a balmy morning in the second week of April, he did just that. The lunch period had started like any other; he found me making my way to the back of the line, got in with me, and we started talking about mundane school stuff. We chatted about the terrible school lunches – chicken patty day, eugh – and about the big fight that had happened yesterday after school, and after getting our requisite processed chicken product, canned corn and whole milk, we made our way across the massive cafeteria towards our outcasts’ table at the far corner, near a small cafeteria library (wonder why none of the popular kids wanted to be near books…)
As we sat down and traded items to get something closer to what we would actually be willing to eat, we started talking about our plans for the afternoon.
“Alrighty. So. What’s going on in your neck of the woods, Abbie?” He said after I finished scraping the last of my corn into his tray.
“Absolutely nothing, thankfully. My dad will be at work until 8 or so, and he didn’t have any chores written up for me on the fridge notepad. Probably just gonna hop on Skyrim and turn my brain off for a while,” I said as I sat my tray back down and started assembling my “chicken” sandwich.
“Oh? Would you be down to hang out? I mean, as far as I’m concerned, you can still do that exact thing, I’d just rather have somewhere besides home to be until a little later tonight,” he said, shuffling his corn around on his plate before taking a bite.
I knew what Isaac – we often called him Izzy – meant by this. His mom had gotten really badly into alcoholism when his father passed last year, and it had gotten especially bad lately. She wasn’t violent, but just sad, constantly, all the time, and Izzy had figured out that if he just stayed away, she wouldn’t feel as safe to drink so wantonly – so occasionally he just needed out. Usually it would be the park or the storm sewer outlet that he had assembled some sort of dystopian bugout bunker in, but today he wanted it to by my house.
“Oh my God, yeah, that would be way better! I mean-” I stammered, remembering that I’m not supposed to gush, “I mean, yeah, that would be cool. Totally. Sure. Whatevs, man.”
He looked at me with a wry smile and we both burst out laughing.
“Alright, cool. Sounds good. Can I just catch the bus home with you? I can always get an Uber back,” he asked confidently.
“Yeah totally. It’ll give me some company on that boring ride. I can’t even pretend, though, I’m so excited! I can’t wait for you to see my room.”
It wasn’t a lie. My room is a beautiful work of art that I have perfected over my entire life. It has multicolored Christmas lights along all the seams and corners – anywhere two surfaces joined along the ceiling – and had hippie and goth memorabilia everywhere to be seen. My bed is just a full size mattress, but it’s more than enough for me and my cat, and it fits into the room well, being outfitted with Bob Marley sheets my mom had gotten for me before the divorce and a grass-themed bed skirt. Beside it sits a bedstand and one of those TV table things, the little foldy tables – the bedstand was for my phone, my seeing lamp, and my drinks, while the foldy table was almost entirely for my weed and rolling tray (I know, too young, whatever, don’t care). Adorning the wall are posters of all kinds of disreputable figures I admire from the Boondocks Saints to the aforementioned Manson to the other Manson, and even a Beatles poster that my grandma got for me. It was the definition of “aesthetic”.
“Oh, your room, huh? So we’re not just gonna hang out in the living room and play video games this time? Okay!” He said jokingly, referencing the many times I had been over to his house or he mine when my parents were there and I couldn’t sneak him up there.
“Yep, my room! Like I said, dad’s gone, I wanna show you, so it’s settled. We’re hanging out in there.” I said affirmatively. I was proud of myself.
The rest of that day went incredibly well. I was absolutely beaming the whole time, and when the final bell rang, I probably set a new land speed record for human beings on my race to the staging area. I instantly started looking for my man and eventually my eyes landed on his long, black hair around his tall shoulders. I waved to him and we made our way over to each other, then slowly made our way to our actual bus group.
I won’t belabor you with the mundane conversation we had as we waited, because it was uninteresting. But the bus ride was another story. Most of it was mundane, but about halfway through, a girl a little older than me made her way to a seat a couple behind us (we were almost at the back) and sat next to a boy who was heavily laying in the seat, his legs mostly under him but bent so as to crouch and make himself smaller. What happened next was so serendipitous, and may have been what sparked me and Izzy’s sexual encounter.
The girl, who I recognized as the cute redhead from my science class, smiled at me and winked and then started making out with the boy. I don’t think she was doing it *for* me, but she definitely thought it was cool to have an audience, and I smiled back in affirmation as soon as she could see me. Then, as if she’s done it a million times, she hiked her skirt up and pulled her underwear to the side, allowing the boy to slip his fingers into her. As the bus continued to humble along its route, he brought her to not one, not two, but three orgasms and then, finally, as if still in the throes of involuntary orgasmic behavior, she closed her legs and kneeled in a similar manner to how he had initially and positioned her face near his crotch. By this point, Izzy was watching, and both our eyes were glued to the couple all but fucking a couple seats back from us.
The boy sat up properly and opened his fly, and almost instantly his cock (which I recognized from porn) was outside, and almost as quickly as that happened it was in her mouth. His eyes went from a neutral, if satisfied, expression to being blown wide-open. He quickly drew in a breath and leaned over. We could just barely hear him saying “Oh, fuck, Gracie, I’m already about there!”
No sooner than the next bump after that, he gripped her head hard with both hands and started pushing her on himself, allowing his head to jolt back into the seat back and his mouth to open wide for a moment.
“He’s cumming, isn’t he?” Me and Izzy said in unison. It was beautiful to watch. Eventually, though, the show was over, and soon enough it was our turn to disembark. We got out of the bus, made our way inside, got a couple of drinks (I got a Gatorade because I fully planned to seduce him) and made our way upstairs to my room. I turned the AC down from 72 to 68 as we went, knowing my dad wouldn’t care and figuring losing my virginity would make me uncomfortably hot.
Tune in for Part 2, where I show Izzy to my room, we hang out, I get eaten out, he gets his dick sucked, and we both lose our virginity!
