You want to hear about how I lost my virginity?
Don't you play coy with me, you smug bastard. I know you do. You're a bad man, sure as the sun rises of a morning. Pour me another one of those while you're up.
So this was the spring of 1981, and I'd just turned 18. The leaves were just out. Jim and I were making plans for prom. Days getting longer, weather getting warmer, and Momma and Daddy had secured a condo at North Myrtle for me and the girls for the week after graduation. Jim's family had their own condo not three towers over, and his parents had decided not to chaperone him and Steve when they came down.
Obviously, this was a very exciting time, because as you know, even though I'd made a point of saving myself for marriage, that commitment was largely ceremonial once a girl from our part of the world had made it through high school, so long as she had been going steady with the same boy for more than a year.
Jim knew that, too, and he'd even brought it up. We were in the back of his car. He was rubbing my pussy through my cotton panties like some Boy Scout trying to light a fire without matches or tinder. He says "Donna, when we get down to North Myrtle, I think it's time."
I played dumb, like "Time for what?" And he got a little mad, I think. He said something like "Time that we made love!"
But instead of coming out all forceful and manly, it came out a whine, with all that pretend Barry White seductiveness that you boys had back then. He could tell I didn't like the suggestion, and he stopped pawing at my pussy which was just fine by me, since he wasn't going to make me cum like that, ever, and all he really wanted to do was get me excited enough that I'd do something to his penis.
That poor boy. Must have had balls as blue as an electric spark.
But I thought about it that night, and I lay there in bed alone imagining it, and pretty soon I was cumming.
What? What? Why are you laughing? Did you imagine that I didn't masterbate back then? Your little good-girl queen?
Listen, I know all about you and Jim and David, you and your stupid "basketball game." Don't you pretend otherwise! "Huh-huh, OK, this one is for Stephanie," and then you'd shoot a layup. "This is for Lori," and you'd shoot from the top of the key. And then you'd say "This one is for Donna," and you'd all try to shoot from beyond halfcourt. Like a good little Baptist girl like me was an impossible shot. Such fucking morons.
Let me tell you something, mister. I didn't know a damned thing about sex, except that it was sinful outside of marriage and a beautiful gift from God between a man and wife. But sometimes I just could not sleep from wanting it. Except what I'd want was not what I said I wanted.
Like that night, I started out imagining that I was on the beach with Jim, and the moon was out, and pretty soon we were kissing and he said "Let's make love," and I said "Yes," and then we were walking back to the condo. And the problem with that is I could be too literal minded, and the walk was too long. So my imagination wandered, and pretty soon I was thinking about that summer Daddy hired you and David to build that privacy fence around our pool.
You remember that? I'll bet you do. I wouldn't give you the time of day, but I'd sit out there in my bikini, sunglasses on, driving you crazy.
Hush your mouth. That's just the way you wish it was. You know, David was a much better-looking boy than you you were back then. You were a scrawny, lanky thing. Yes you were! And your hair! The worst! But there was something about the way that you moved, the way you'd get in a zone. Like you were floating on air.
David, he was put together. Had a little muscle on him. I remember I did just the slightest things to provoke him, but after a while I started to take a shine to you. Could you tell that I was flirting with you?
See now? That's sweet. That's why I liked you, even though Daddy told me you were a bad seed. Come here. Gimme some sugar.
Anyway, that's how I came that night. I stopped thinking about Jim making love to me in the condo and I imagined that David came over, no shirt on, little teen muscles covered in sweat, and just ripped my bikini bottoms off. I imagined he had this enormous penis, and that he just shoved it right into my pussy, just like that!
I'm telling you: I didn't have a clue.
But the thought of him fucking me on that folding lounge chair while you watched us? That made me cum. I don't know why.
So yeah, I thought about sex. As much as anyone, maybe more.
And since Jim was my steady, he was the one who was going to get it. Done deal. It was just a question of when, and how. Because being good was just wearing me out! I had to touch myself just to go to sleep at night. Or I'd put that pulsating shower head on my clit whenever i took a bath. The water bills my parents paid!
I once even took a warm zucchini, fresh from Momma's garden and ran it back and forth over my clit, flitting it in and out of the entrance to my pussy. But I was very careful not to push it in too deep, believe you me! Momma talked about my maidenhead like it was some kind of magical product safety seal that God had put there for mystical purposes, and I damn sure didn't want to ruin my magical freshness with some stupid squash, for heaven's sake.
Oh, if you'd have known! What a scandal! Baptist Donna, the good-girl cheerleader, lying on her babydoll bedspread on a summer afternoon, mouth open, gasping for breath, doing it with a vegetable. Can you imagine? It just scared me to death that someone would catch me.
Scared me even more that I liked that feeling.
But then everything came out about Jim, right before prom, right after my 18th birthday. Did you know he denied it, all of it, at first?
And I said "Jim Canton, you mean to tell me that Anne and Pearlie and Allison were all lying?"
And he said "Rev. Bob was just giving me a counseling session." Well, you know, if a youth minister sucking your cock behind a fellowship hall dumpster counts as "counseling," then I ought to be some kind of Pope by now, I guess. But he just couldn't own up to it, and I think that's really the thing that did it.
No, really. I think I could have forgiven him a moment of indiscretion. Lord knows Jesus called on us to love and forgive. Lord knows I'd been teasing him for two years. One time he even pulled it out and put it in my hand, started showing me what to do.
He said: "Donna, it's a sin if I do it, but if you do it, just so long as we don't put it anywhere inside of you, it's OK."
Can you believe that? That's just how messed up we were.
What I should have done was just sucked that boy dry every minute we were alone, just to keep him sane and sensible. But man, our parents and that church, they had us coming and going.
What did I do? Oh Gawd, I don't remember. I probably slapped his hand away and told him to take me home. But it really did turn me on, which is why I got so mad. Probably got off alone in my bed thinking about it just so I could go to sleep. I was already kinked up. Just didn't know it yet.
But anyway, Anne and Pearlie and Allison were back there sneaking a cigarette when Rev. Bob led Jim out of the Fellowship Hall and they saw the whole thing. Not even any foreplay. Jim just unzipped his jeans and down went the Rev. Bob. Kind of a funny name for a youth minister, given the circumstances, don't you think? And Pearlie said it didn't take no time for Jim to shoot off. None of them had ever seen a man ejaculate before, and they said Rev. Bob was gagging and coughing and Jim was just spraying long, thick ropes of semen into the dark, with nothing even touching him.
So I always figured that I sorta forced Jim into that situation, since I wouldn't help matters, and what with all that semen backing up. Must have addled his mind. And then there's this creepy youth minister, and that's all she wrote.
I felt sorry for him, I did. But in my mind, letting another man suck his dick made Jim just as queer as the man doing the sucking, and the church was very clear about what that meant. An abomination. I think back on it now, and all that homophobia I grew up on kinda turns my stomach. It's just hateful. But right then is when it all started to turn for me. I started processing the fact that one of people who taught to hate gays that was Rev. Bob. That's where things started to go down the rabbit hole.
After we broke up, everything went sideways for a while. The church kept things as quiet as you can in a place like McElroy. Rev. Bob went on to another congregation in Taylorsville. Jim and I talked about going to prom together, just as friends, and I would have, too. I didn't want to shame the boy, if only because some of that might have reflected back on me and my family. But Jim was just terribly guilty. Or maybe just ashamed, afraid. If he hadn't been just a few weeks away from graduating, he might have just run off, just to avoid the rumors he was so sure everyone knew.
I'm not sure exactly why he took up with Jean. I don't really care now. Maybe he just needed to prove something. That's what Momma said. I didn't even want him at that point, but I just cried and cried. Here I was, keeping his secrets, and next thing I know he's dropping me for Jean. Taking her to prom. Taking her out to Robb's Station Road. Your old haunts, I believe.
I think the thing that stung me most was when Pearlie told me that Jim had offered Jean around to y'all at that pre-graduation party. Drunk as she was, did she even know it? Was she even of her right mind? And I thought, even if you didn't take your turn, like Pearlie said you didn't, why didn't you stop it? I don't know why, since we weren't particularly friends, but I expected more of you.
Isn't that funny? You were the only kid at our school who never went to church, and everyone said you were trouble. But I held you to a higher standard for some reason.
Jim, I knew he was just acting out, and Jean, she was just a sad little thing. I'd known her since kindergarten. She was just doing the best she could with the tools she had, bless her heart. But I felt estranged from a lot of you after that. Didn't want to see anybody. Didn't answer the phone.
Come to think of it, you and me, we were probably about the only ones from those honors classes who didn't go down to Myrtle Beach after we walked at the coliseum. You didn't have the money. I just couldn't bear to go.
You know, I always thought you had the talent to get a scholarship, if you'd just kept growing. Maybe not to the ACC, but you know, Big South schools give basketball scholarships, and when you'd get in that zone of yours, couldn't nobody stop you but your own mind. Shocked us all when you joined the Navy and shipped out that summer.
But you wanted to hear about how I lost my virginity.
So it was that weekend, and Momma and Daddy had made plans to go visit her cousins up at The Lake for a few days, on account of they thought I'd be at the beach with everybody. And I guess they figured I'd be OK on my own at the house once I decided not to leave. Momma bought me some ice cream and some bag salad. Daddy told me I could take the station wagon if I needed to go to the store or whatever. Momma said: "Don't you fret about that dumb Jim."
And I didn't. Instead, as soon as they were gone, I got in the bathtub, ran the hot water has hard as it would go on my pussy, and imagined it was me instead of Jean at that party, drunk and alive, being passed around to all those boys I'd know my whole life. I imagined every face and every dick, except the only dick I knew was Jim's, and that only barely. I imagined being surrounded by them, just a forest of penis, a circular firing squad of cock. Yours included.
What? Well what do you think I imagined? Yes, sucking. Yes, fucking.
No! Bad boy! I didn't know a thing about ass-fucking back then. It was 1981! All that came up later. I'm sure it was tingling around in some dark corner of my imagination all along, but I didn't know what I know now.
Do you want to hear this story or not, dammit?
OK, fine: The thought that that got me off was I imagining sucking your cock while somebody held my arms and fucked me hard from behind, That's the way I thought whores did it. Satisfied now? Yes, you. Don't look so damned smug.
I really hate you right now.
I felt awful about it, imagining myself in poor Jean's place. But I had the house to myself. Complete, rare privacy. And I thought, "There's nobody here, I'm going to get bottle of wine and drink it and masturbate whenever I want and anybody who doesn't like it can just jump in the lake."
So I drove the station wagon down to the Piggly Wiggly and I bought a bottle of red wine, a pack of Virginia Slims, and a Bic lighter. So I was just being a very bad girl to begin with. I'd never smoked the first cigarette, much less had a drink. And I'd never had an orgasm before that was anything but silent. Just hearing my own moans that night turned me one. Just feeling free and private turned me on.
