Cheap Sex & Cigarettes

Cheap Sex & Cigarettes

Status: In Progress

Genre: Non-Fiction

Houses:

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Non-Fiction

Houses:

Summary

I’ve never been ashamed of my passion for sex. Everything about it resembles a masterpiece, moans become a gentle or deafening soundtrack, the backdrop resembles a bed post or a car or a freshly wiped kitchen counter. Cue the lack of lights, and set the stage for pleasure.
I’m seventeen years old and i’ve probably had more sex than most of your children or siblings or even you. Yeah, you, reading this. Have you engaged in the taboo act of intercourse in a parking garage? What about a dirty playground bathroom without a door? If you have, we should be great friends. If not, Strap in and see your world from my perspective.
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Summary

I’ve never been ashamed of my passion for sex. Everything about it resembles a masterpiece, moans become a gentle or deafening soundtrack, the backdrop resembles a bed post or a car or a freshly wiped kitchen counter. Cue the lack of lights, and set the stage for pleasure.
I’m seventeen years old and i’ve probably had more sex than most of your children or siblings or even you. Yeah, you, reading this. Have you engaged in the taboo act of intercourse in a parking garage? What about a dirty playground bathroom without a door? If you have, we should be great friends. If not, Strap in and see your world from my perspective.

Chapter1 (v.1) - First in Line

Author Chapter Note

The first time I had sex was both liberating and traumatic. No, it wasn’t non-consensual. I wasn’t forced against my will to lose my virginity, I wanted it. I was a naive sixteen year old bearing the thought that I simply couldn’t be the last to lose it. I wish I would’ve known that it would turn me into a girl I never would’ve considered being.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 28, 2017

Reads: 191

Comments: 7

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 28, 2017

A A A

A A A

I’m going to talk about the one thing we all do, some more openly than others. The one thing we all speak of at some point, whether it be in hushed whispers in a deserted hallway or turned into a dirty joke at the dinner table. This is the thing that keeps the world going, and sometimes even keeps us sane for a moment: Yeah, i’m talking about sex. The act of two bodies meshing together in such a way that causes a strange sense of pleasure throughout, if done correctly. It can be romantic, secretive, meaningless or even spiteful. It can be forced or begged for, it can be quiet or loud, private or public. Everyone has a juicy sex story they share after a shot of Jack, a secret kink hidden in a box in the back of their closets, the one thing that drives them absolutely to the edge. For me, It was first with a man i’ll refer to as simply, ‘A.’

‘A’ was a love letter filled envelope in the shape of a man. He was soft but firm, sprite laced with codeine, simply incomprehensible. He was there to hold me when I cried for no apparent reason other than the emptiness engulfing me, and make my toes curl when I was grinning on sweaty white cotton sheets. Though he knew nothing of importance about me, I knew everything I could grasp about him. He was a drug, a habit, an obsession. His voice could get me higher than any white powder, needle, or plant. His moans could send me to a new universe. He never asked for anything in return, but he knew pleasuring him was my one goal. I think that’s what I loved more than anything; The climax, the end of the movie, where the loose ends are tied up, legs entangled, breaths matching in one faint sigh. A took my virginity and I desperately wanted it back for a while… Until I didn’t. I’d go to his house whenever I could, sneaking in his house at seven in the morning in a long tee shirt and my favorite panties. Of course he preferred them off, and his preferences were usually my priority. I was his little secret, his release, I might as well have been his right hand. Sex with ‘A’ was gentle, but urgent. ‘A’ made me feel like  he genuinely needed me, he fervently needed my tongue in his mouth, or around his shaft, or wherever else it made its way to.

But all things come to an end, good or bad, and like the seasons change, so did ‘A.’ He wanted a girl in a short skirt that didn’t know how to say no, and I wanted a guy that would hold my hand in public. I didn’t let his warm, soft hand go without a fight until I realized I was fighting for nothing. He was gone, and then, so was I. From that point on I was a more hollow, changed girl, one that wasn’t a pansy, one that didn’t look for love in abandoned alleyways, instead I only looked for my next vice.


© Copyright 2017 Avery.Grace. All rights reserved.

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