All characters appearing or mentioned in this story are 18 years old or older. This story is a work of fiction and any reference or description to actual persons is unintentional.
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If you are enjoying these stories, leave a comment about what you liked or didn't, or things you want to ready more of. I'll take advice into consideration when I'm working out the next parts of the LoP stories.
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February 1998
As the second to last semester came to a middle, I found myself pondering a lot of different things. Particularly in my own sense of self and in what I wanted to do and be in my life.
It's also fair to say that Amber had a lot to do with this foray into self reflection. Her showing me all the things I'd been missing in the normal teenage social circles was eye opening to say the least. Eye popping would be a more accurate term though. Unbelievable could be applied as well.
Like this situation.
"Fuck, fuck, yes fuck, slam it into me, ohhh fuck," Amber panted in a whisper as I railed her from behind. We ducted into a little used bathroom at lunch so we could have some fun. We hadn't gotten a chance in the last few days and, in high school, a few days is nearly an eternity.
"Oh, shit," I tell her just as quietly, "fuck I'm getting close."
"Yes, oh fuck, when you're ready, ohhh, pull out and cum in my mouth," she ordered.
We heard the bathroom door squeak open and someone walk into the stall beside us. We were in the handicap stall (rude, I know) but the person sounded like they were just doing number one, so I waited. Amber, though, did not and started to fuck into me slowly and silently, a devious smile on her face.
I tried to not make a sound by taking some deep breaths but she was not making it easy. I cleared my throat whilst moaning, but I don't think anyone would buy that. We heard a toilet flush and the door squeak again. Amber sped up her fucking.
"Oh, shit," I moan a quiet as I could, "I'm cumming!"
She pulled off of my long, thick, hard member and went to her knees, but not in time. The first powerful shot hit her chin and throat, but the rest she caught in her mouth. She rubbed the underside of the head with her tongue, drawing more moans from me and what felt like more cum from my dick.
When I was done she pulled off and showed me the mouthful I'd given her before swallowing it down in one gulp. Some dribbled out onto her chin though, adding to the hotness of her action.
"That was awesome," she commented. "We've never fucked in a school bathroom before. The dirtiness made it all the hotter."
We fixed our clothes, Amber cleaned my cum off her chin, and we went back to lunch. We went our separate ways after eating and met back up in photography class. The whole time I couldn't stop thinking of our bathroom encounter, and I was still amazed at how much being with Amber in this new way had changed almost every aspect of my life.
Take photography class for instance. There were a lot of pretty girls in here, and even though I've been sitting in the same room with them for months now, I started to notice certain things they displayed or did. Particularly in Tiffany.
Tiffany was what most would describe as having the ugly duckling syndrome, but that was far from the case. True, she didn't wear makeup and kept her long auburn hair in an easy and sensible pony tail, but her face was warm when she smiled, and her freckle covered cheeks seemed to pop out a bit when she did so. Her eyes were a pale blue that I couldn't really put a name to even if I had a color book in front of me. Her frame was skinny I knew, but I could only tell that she had about B cup breasts and a small but perky rear end due to her somewhat loose clothing choices; also sensible and easy it seemed.
Over the last year Tiffany and I've become friends since we shared a lot of electives, and of those photography was the favorite subject of us both. We often partnered on a number of projects and did well on them. So when the time came to start in on our final project, Tiffany nearly vaulted the tables between us in order to call dibs on me as a partners.
As she sat down next to me, she pulled out her photography journal and other notes. "OK," she started, tightening her pony tail, "I know we've done well on projects before, but if you fuck this up and we fail, I am going to kill you."
Oh yea; she was totally into me.
"I do believe we got an A- on out last project," I counter.
"It should have been an A+. The composition was off. which was your fault," she shot back.
"What?" I exclaimed loudly. "My composition was accurate to the task. What the hell was your's doing anyways? It was all over the place."
"Oh please," Tiffany said, "the assignment was for atypical photography which is what I did."
"Alright, the both of you," the teacher chimed in from the other side of the room, "you have your assignments, and your partners, so please take your arguments outside."
"Sorry, sir," we both grumbled.
We grabbed our bags and left to argue more outside. It was common in photography class to get your assignment and leave for the rest of class to do it. It being the last class of the day the teacher saw students for about 15 minutes and then we were gone.
It being February in southern California the temperature was only about 70, but it was still nice to sit outside. We found a good nook between some of the older buildings to look at the streams of students milling through. It was a spot we went hung out at often, both to observe our fellow student, but also because the surrounding buildings dampened sound, so arguments could be had freely.
"OK," I started as we sat down next to each other, "we can get an A+ on this assignment if we really focus on the subject matter and the topic."
"Agreed," Tiffany said. "So, how do we capture 'insecurity and confidence of the soul' in a photo series?"
I thought about it for a few minutes, but didn't have any solid ideas. What did it mean to be insecure? Or confident? And how did they tie into one's soul? After 10 minutes I asked if Tiffany had any ideas.
"I got nothing," she admitted. "I mean, if you think about it, those two things can get very personal with some people. And in some cases, confidence can hide insecurity. Take most of the football team; I'd bet that most of them are just putting on a show cause they're afraid of something."
That did make sense of a sort. "And," I added, "the same could be applied to the cheerleaders who work with them. Those smiles could hide buckets of stuff and we'd never know it to look at them."
"So maybe that's what we do," Tiffany offered, "try and follow them around and see if we catch them at a vulnerable moment."
"So," I summarized, "we stalk them? I'm fairly sure there's a law or two about that."
"Shit, you're right," she said.
We sat for a few minutes, occasionally looking at each other to see if the other had an idea. After a further 20 minutes, the sky suddenly started to darken. A few minutes later it started to rain heavily.
I inhaled as deeply as I could. The smell of rain on a dusty road or sidewalk is a special kind of smell that I can't put a name on. It's like a thousand memories all at once and a strange sense of calm even though there is a downpour going on.
"Maybe that's it," Tiffany offered. I pulled myself out of my revere. "What's it?"
She was looking at me in a thoughtful manner, a little smile on her lips. "Maybe, we should be the ones being insecure and confident in the series."
"How do you mean?" I asked.
She looked back out at the rain coming down. "I mean jocks and cheerleaders aren't the only people hiding pain or insecurities; everyone does. Some cover it with smiles, some with frowns, some with dark eye makeup and blasé attitudes. But even seemingly normal people need to put confidence of some form up to cover their insecure parts."
I thought about this for a minute. It made sense. I had plenty of stuff I use to be insecure about. But I also had stuff to be confident about, and rightfully so.
"I think," I said, "that even if we are using confidence as a shield, there are still some who accept their insecurity and turned it into confidence."
"Totally; I am thinking the same thing!" Tiffany exclaimed. We stared back out at the rain for a bit. But a thought hit me.
"Wait, so how did you turn an insecurity into confidence?" I ask her.
"How did you?" she countered.
I looked away before answering. "I don't know how personal we should get. And I don't really think we can put it on film and show the class."
Tiffany seemed to think about this before answering. "I can understand that. Mine is pretty personal too."
"How about," I started after some thought, "that just so we can know what types of things we're dealing with, we tell each other our insecurity, and then how we got confidence from it. No judging, no laughing, no questions unless it's to get further context."
She looked at me hard for a solid minute before answering. "OK," she said, "but we'll take turns. You say your insecurity, I'll say mine, then then we reverse and say the confidence part. Deal?"
"Deal," I said. "So I start?"
She gestured with her hand to go ahead.
"OK," I started, "So to begin with I lost my virginity not too long ago. And by that I mean very recently. But before then, I was very insecure about my...endowment, and how a woman might like or dislike it. It was so bad that even my best friend, who's a girl, couldn't say anything to make it better. I hid away what most men are proud to show because I thought that no woman would want me because of it."
I looked back and Tiffany, who was looking at me with neither judgment or pity, but with interest. She didn't laugh or anything, and when she sensed I was done she said her piece.
"Mine is sort of similar," she began, "but with the added twist of religious pressure on it.
"See, my parents are very religious and basically everything except church attendance is a sin. So when my girlfriends started talked about manicures and brow plucking and bikini waxes, I jumped in with the rest of them. My...bikini area grooming habits...also lead me to starting to experiment with what I like in terms of personal sexual pleasure. My mother found out and basically calls me a sinner every other day because of it. It made me feel guilty and ashamed for a long while."
I looked at Tiffany hopefully in the same way she looked at me; with interest and understanding. We sat a few minutes reflecting on what we just shared.
"So," I asked, "how did you turn that into confidence?"
She smiled slightly at the memory. "One of my friends came over one day and she had a long talk with me. I told her everything, plainly, and when I was done she basically slapped some sense into me. Everything I did was perfectly normal and right for a young woman my age. It helped a lot.
