Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

True Confessions of a Teenage Slut

Miscellaneous By: lizardface95
Memoir


an experience of a girl who sleeps with random men


Submitted:Oct 25, 2013    Reads: 225    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


Tonight I walk the familiar trail for the fifth time. As I do, I look at the stars, think of the constellations, like I always do when I walk this path to have sex with a stranger I met on the internet. Again I think the same thought please don't rape me, please don't kidnap me. Why do I do this, put myself in these situations? Why do I walk to Dollar General's parking lot to meet someone just to sleep with them? Why do I have sex with these men? Why do I risk it all? I cannot answer these questions, I do not know. I am getting closer I turn down Emeline Road the last road I have to turn on. Just two more blocks until I meet this random stranger. A few things are different this time. First is my attire. Usually I dress in something slutty. Tonight, however, I am dressed in a hot pink tank top (no bra, which I usually wear to make my boobs look suppler), grey, oversized, unflattering sweatpants, my black Carhart winter coat made for guys, and my black and silver slippers. Second, the time is different. Tonight I am meeting this guy at 9pm, usually it's around midnight when I go meet my johns. This is the name for the guys who pick up prostitutes. I must ask myself the question, who is worse, me or a prostitute at least they get paid or am I better because I don't ask for money? I can't answer this question either. Underneath my slippers I feel the gravel on the sidewalks crunching beneath my weight. Up ahead, maybe ten feet away, I see a mother and her, maybe, five-year-old daughter walking along the same sidewalk as me. How did I not see them until now? It is dark out but how out of touch with reality am I? They hurry past me like they know what I do but I know they don't. No one does. All of a sudden I remember some lyrics from a song by Panic! At the Disco, praying for love in a lap dance. I am not the kind of person to say "this song describes my life!" but I can relate to that song lyric. When I am touched by another man it doesn't make me feel loved, I have lots of love in my life, but it makes me feel extremely desired, like Aphrodite or something. But when the deed is done, I feel like Hephaestus. But just like every other time here I am. I am in the big red truck of a random stranger. I am driving to my house to do the awful deed. As soon as I get in I know I have made a huge mistake. I could say, "Never mind, the deal is off", but then they would want an explanation and I just don't have the energy to explain. I take him to my house and make all the necessary moans and groans to get him off but the whole time I want him to leave. When we are done I ask him to go. When he leaves I get on my computer and write this story.





0

| Email this story Email this Miscellaneous | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.