lost innocence

With college only a month away, there was one thing on this list that I hadn’t accomplished yet. Backtracking for a second, I made a list on graduation day of things I would accomplish over the summer. All of them had been done, but one. I was 18, attractive, and a virgin. Probably the last one on earth.  Growing up in an ultra-conservative home, sex was not even discussed. I am a firm believe that my parents fucked once, and that was when I was conceived. Mom, a school teacher, never even wore shorts in the summer. Always a skirt, and always past her knees. My Father was never home, so I assume he had a lover to keep him occupied.  I would find out in my high school years that he was gay, and the lover was a Man name Bruce. Ironic that the stereo typical gay name was actually a well-built biker who drove a Harley, and didn’t wear leather.

Setting forth a plan of action, I had 28 days left. Not enough time to start a relationship. It would have to be a one night stand with a complete stranger. Was a stranger worthy of virginity though? After reading about girls who sold their innocence online, that was the plan. I would offer my hymen up to the highest bidder.  Why not? Some girls made enough money to pay for a year of college. Plus, being attractive, I should get more. Most men dreamed about taking someone from girl to woman, but whoever bought me, they could actually have a little bragging rights. They bought a whore on opening night.

Have you ever wanted something so bad, but never thought it was within reach? Virginity for sale to the highest bidder. Drug and disease free, and current medical exam available. Message me for more information. Serious buyers only.

     That was the plan, and it worked in the craziest way possible.  Mr. Jones had lived next to me since

my parents bought our house 15 years ago. He was one of the sweetest Men, but there was always

something a little off about him.  He would lurk in the window when I came home from a date, or peek through the knot hole in the fence when I was soaking up the summer sun. Sure, I knew he was jerking his dick, but never thought twice about it.  Everyone masturbates.

     I was bought and paid for. The auction closed at 15 thousand dollars. I was nothing special, sure I am attractive, but not for that amount of money.  Now that the deal was set, there was no going back on it. I would actually accomplish the last thing on my list for the summer. Little did I know, Mr. Jones was the one who bought it, and he was about to get what he had been waiting for. He was going to get my sweet little pussy.  

The moment I read his name, I almost died. Literally, he could make or break my future if he told my parents what I was up to. In my family, they preached purity, but I knew that was primitive reasoning in this day and time. No one waited anymore. What I didn’t realize was that I actually had the ball in my court. I could tell the whole neighborhood that he picked me for this. That he wanted me. Thank god for logic.

We arranged the meeting at a local hotel, not one that was too well know, but still had some respect about it. I had actually shopped for an outfit for this “date”. A short white sun dress, pink flats, and a new pair of panties from that store that all the hot girls shop at. I was meeting him in 15 minutes and I was scared to death. Would it hurt? Of course it would. I was hoping for a stranger to do this, and yet from this day forward the image of that dirty old man would be stained in my brain.  His nasty dick the one who took away something that so many hold dearly.

Knocking on the door, my knuckles seemed to be apprehensive to even touch the dark wood, but a gently rap was achieved. The closer it got to the time, the more nervous I became. My eyes were closed when he opened the door, I am sure he could tell from the moment he seen me that I was scared.

“Come in. I’ve been waiting for you for years, and now your finally here.”

His words shook me to the core. He had been waiting for me all of my life. He had known me since I was a little girl, so with that said, the knots in my stomach twisted and turned into the giant wings of an overgrown butterfly. 

One step, two step, there, I was in the room. Mr. Jones looked different. He didn’t look as “old” as normal. His hair was salt and pepper, a light growth of stubble on his face, and his glasses were nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t unattractive, but at this very moment, he reminded me a little of George Clooney.

“Take it all off. Everything! I paid for it, and now I want to see just what I bought.”

Was that supposed to excite me? His demands turn me on? If so, it had worked. The moment he spoke with authority, my new panties were coated with a few drops of sweet fluid. I had always liked a confident Man, but right now, I was shaking from the Dominance his voice carried.

“Of course, Sir. I mean, Mr. Jones. “

My words came with a slight tremble to my voice, in all honestly though, I think he liked that. He seemed to smirk each time my tone quivered.  Who the hell was this Man? What happened between the drive from his house, to here? Whatever it was, I did as I was told. Slipping out of my dress, I looked up at him before removing the rest. His eyes bore holes in my flesh. The bra was the easy part. Dropping it down in the pile on the floor, his finger motioned for the panties too. Inch my inch, the silk moved down my body till it joined the other articles of clothing in the heap, but my hand replaced them, covering my bald mound. I had nothing to be ashamed of, but I was shy.

“Remove your fucking hand! I didn’t pay to see your fingers!”

Gruff, he moved swiftly across the room, his hand on my throat before I could resist. He didn’t choke me, but I was pinned to the wall, and his hand held me firmly in place. Drilling his eyes through my soul, I would have sworn he could see through skin and bone. I had never felt so alive as I did at that moment in time.  I finally realized why some girls allowed men to take ownership of them. I felt free for the very first time in my life. As though nothing in the world mattered but pleasing this man. I could tell he knew I was fighting with the demons inside of me at that point. Fighting to be the feminist that I always claimed to be, and wanting to hands over every part of me without forethought or restriction. He would soon prove to be my greatest weakness.

“When I fuck you, there will be no mercy on you. I expect you to cry. Hell, I want you to cry. I want you to know what you’ve done. You disappoint me in allowing this to happen, but it’s mine now, and you won’t soon forget it.”

What the hell did he mean? I won’t soon forget it? Should I give him back the money and just say forget it? I couldn’t move, I was stuck to wall. I was held in place by need alone. I wanted this Man inside of me. I wanted him to destroy the last of my purity. Never once had I thought twice about Mr. Jones, till now.

A glance to my eyes, then to the floor, I knew what he wanted. I had actually given a blow job in the past. It was a mess, but the guy said I was a natural cock sucker. I still laugh about that. Of all things that I could be good at, sucking dick was the one I was excelling in. My eyes kept locked to his as my knees hit the floor, I never once wavered from my gaze. I was transfixed and hypnotized.  Only after he slapped that 9-inch dick across my cheek was I brought back to reality. He was thick, and the shaft covered in veins. The full mushroom head already leaking, my mouth watered in anticipation. I wanted to suck, devour, and swallow every inch of him.

“Suck it whore. You’re a dirty fucking slut.”

His words stung, but my mouth moved in for the kill. Wrapping the base in my fingers, pushing his cock upwards, my tongue slithered the path of that thick under belly vein. Flicking back and forth, the tip of my tongue now pointed and serpent like, wiggled from side to side, pushing a tiny glob of pre-cum to seep from the slit. That was the moment I knew I had an effect on him.  Stretching my lips to wrap around the head, slowly sucking in till I had wrapped around the rim. Engulfed in the warmth of my mouth, my tongue taunted that seeping hole. His fluid tasted sweet, not salty like I remembered from the past. It reminded me of the juice when you open a can of fruit cocktail. As a kid I would always drink the juice and leave the fruit, but this time, I was addicted!

His hand tangled in the long silken strands of my hair, pulling me like a pendulum on his dick.  I think the times when I choked were his happiest, or so it would seem by the laughter that echoed through the room.  Tears rolling down my face, a trail of mascara made them more pronounced. He was loving this. Loving that he was destroying the image I had of the nice man next door. All I would ever think when I see him from this day forth was he was this right here, right now.

I stretched my lips as far as she could, my jaws aching from the girth of his expanding cock. He was enormous, well for a novice he was.  When you have nothing to compare it to, then you tend to feel that it’s beyond your abilities. Why did men love when a woman choked? Was it to show dominance and control over them, or was it that they seemed bigger in size? He seemed to like that I cried from it. My tears were worth the payment, yet he hadn’t even taken what he came for. In all honesty, I thought that he would just fuck me, and leave. I never assumed that there would be foreplay involved.

After 10 minutes of throat pounding, his hand grasped tighter, yanking me back. I was still connected by a thin line of saliva, which was quickly broken with the rake of my teeth over my bottom lip. As I pulled my eyes up to his, I pleaded with him through facial expressions. I wanted mercy on my throat, on my body, and on my soul. He was punishing me for what I had done. I finally realized this was not about the sexual act, but about punishing me for allowing greed to overtake my common sense. He was the punisher and I would be his greatest accomplishment. After tonight, I would beg the lord for forgiveness, but not before he got his money’s worth. Stroke by stroke, I would pay him the fifteen grand back in screams, begs, and prayers.