The senior year in high school is supposed to be the best year in a person's life. For me it was the worst. In late February my mom died. It was after a long bout of cancer, so in some ways it was a relief. But the grief was very real. Then a few weeks after the funeral my boyfriend of one year broke up with me. A few weeks before that, shortly after a morose 18th birthday celebration, we had sex for the first time. In some ways I don't blame him for breaking up with me. Our senior year was supposed to be a blissful, care-free time. Yet here was, catatonic and depressed. The pain of him breaking up with me was just "one more thing." I felt numb to it.
So from March onward it was me and my depressed dad in our dumb house. I missed a lot of school. College, and figuring out whatever I was going to do after graduation, was not on my mind. I spent a lot of time watching porn and masturbating - it was my way of coping.
Porn became my refuge. I became a connoisseur of it. I was fascinated by the women, their beauty, and how they used their bodies almost like athletes. And the men, with their big cocks, stamina, and amazing cumshots. It was foreign to any of my sexual experiences. Sex with my boyfriend was fast, careless, and awkward. We'd start out kissing and making out - which we were good at. But the more our clothes came off the worse things got. Eventually he'd put a condom on his five inch penis, then cum in it inside me three minutes later. I don't mean to speak poorly about Tom (my now ex-boyfriend.) He was a really sweet, cute guy. We were great dating, but when it came to sex we just never got it right.
So over the weeks I got more and more pathetic. Some days I would hardly get out of bed. I would wear a t-shirt with nothing on the bottom. I laid there in my bed for hours, watching porn on my laptop and rubbing myself. I was making myself cum four or five times a day. Overall, though, I was letting myself go. My hair grew long and frizzy. My pubic hair was a bushy mess. I looked like I hardly slept. My dad would ask how I was doing, but he was kind of a zombie himself, dealing with the grief of losing his true love. This was not a happy home, and there was no end in sight.
--
It was a little after midnight on a Friday night. I had just finished a two-hour masturbation marathon in a chatroom. I went down to the kitchen to have a bowl of cereal before bed, when I heard the TV on in the living room. I went in there to check on my dad, but he was sound asleep on the couch. I went to turn off the TV, which was on Fox News, and the story the pretty blonde anchor was reading caught my attention. The little box to the upper right of her head said "Porn School," so of course I got in close to listen. Essentially, the story was about a small college in Los Angeles, Wilshire College that was starting an experimental "Adult Entertainment" major. After she introduced the story, she had two guests on. One was a pastor who was protesting the college, and the other was a woman named Michelle Hennessy, who was the college administrator who came up with the idea.
The pastor spoke first, and to be honest, he had some good points underneath his obvious condescension and disgust. I too thought the idea of an "Adult Entertainment" major was a bit crazy. Then the anchor addressed Ms. Hennessey. She was a pretty black haired woman with pale skin and glasses. She spoke in a calm, confident tone. She said how porn is an "over $10 billion business — bigger than the NFL, the NBA and Major League Baseball combined." She said how a lot of young women, especially, get into porn naively, and end up on drugs or suicidal. She explained how her pilot program was going to reach out to these young people (she was recruiting men too). Apparently this program was to teach them how to be safe, and continue their development to be "whole people." The segment ended with the pastor scoffing, and the anchor gently shaking her head in disbelief. I turned off the TV, slipped out of the living room, poured my cereal in a bowl and went back to my room.
--
The next morning I woke up in my dirty t-shirt with the empty bowl of cereal near my head. After going to the bathroom and splashing water on my face, I went back to my bed and opened my laptop. Instead of surfing for porn, I googled "Wilshire College Adult Entertainment." The first link I clicked on opened up a modest page that had Ms. Hennessey's picture up. The page wasn't very helpful in giving details, but did have a form to fill out for those interested.
I opened another tab and started watching a Tori Black video where two guys were aggressively fucking her. I finger fucked myself with two fingers as my thumb massaged my clit (I had become an expert masturbator.) I climaxed as the two guys shot thick wads of cum over her pretty face, then I laid back in bed and contemplated life. Frankly, there wasn't much to contemplate, but I kept seeing Ms. Hennessey's face in my mind. I started to wonder what it would be like? What would an "Adult Entertainment" major be like? I went back to the website, and read the application form again. By now it was late June, and the interviews for the pilot class was in July, with the first class meeting in August.
I took a deep breath and thought "what's the harm in getting more information?" I filled out the form. They wanted basic information, and for us to attach a color, non-nude photo. The best I could do was a kind of pretty picture an uncle took of me on my graduation day. It wasn't sexy or anything, but at least I looked like I was alive. I took one more deep breath and hit submit.
Honestly, I didn't think much about it after that. I spent my weekend between masturbation sessions trying to help out around the house, which like its occupants, had grown messy.
--
Tuesday morning I was just finishing up at the grocery store (I had been living on dry cereal for 3 days now) when I noticed I had a voicemail:
"Hello Hallie, this is Amanda Johnson from Professor Hennessey's office at Wilshire College. We got your inquiry and we were wondering if you are interested in interviewing. There's only one spot left in the pilot class, so if you are interested, call us soon. You can reach us at..."
I laughed to myself and went on with my grocery trip. I drove home, put the groceries away except for one large cucumber I took up to my room with me. I got cozy in my bed, put on a video of some girl getting slammed by James Deen, and slowly fucked my pussy with the cucumber. After I orgasmed I laid in my bed feeling more pathetic than usual. I thought about the voicemail, reached for my phone and called.
"Professor Hennessey's office, this is Amanda, how can I help you?"
"Hi, uh. This is Hallie Anderson, I filled out an application..."
"Oh yes, Hallie, thank you for calling."
"Sure."
"So Professor Hennessey liked your photo, and as I may have mentioned we have one space available for the pilot program. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"Uh, sure."
"Any history of disease? Mental illness? Drug problems?"
"No, not really"
Laughs. "Good enough. Can you give me your height, weight, measurements."
"I am five foot four, A hundred and fifteen pounds" (I had no idea how much I weighed). "My measurements are thirty-two, twenty-eight, thirty-two"
"Very nice, and cup size?"
"I am a C."
"OK, great. So, since time is short, would you be able to come out this Thursday for a medical exam, and have an interview with Professor Hennessy and her committee?"
"Wow, that is fast. I...guess so."
"OK, we have funding to cover the flight, you can stay in a room on campus. I will send an email with final instructions, but one last thing, are you ok being naked in the interview?"
