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Not how he’d managed to push my skirt up and pull my panties down without my noticing.
Not how he’d unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis, but left his pants on.
And not how I’d gone from having my first real kiss, to losing my virginity.
When I felt a painful push, then a burning sensation, it registered that I was in fact losing my virginity. I tried to work out how I was feeling as I seemed to drift in and out of reality. My legs were open, allowing room for his hips, which were currently thrusting into me, and the burn was beginning to subside. He was propped up on his hands, so I didn’t feel his weight, but I could feel the rough denim of his jeans against my thighs. His eyes were closed, and he had a look on his face that clued me in to the fact that he was enjoying himself, although I wasn’t really gaining any pleasure from what he was doing. It mostly felt like an intrusion. Like an unwelcome visitor in my body.
Had I inadvertently given Brad mixed signals? Had my crush been so obvious that he thought this was what I wanted? Questions and uncertainty rolled through me, along with the alcohol fogging my brain.
I turned my head, and felt nausea run through me when I saw Dave sitting in the chair against the wall. He had a beer in one hand, and his dick in the other, and his attention was rapt on what Brad was doing.
I closed my eyes tightly, willing myself to wake up from this horrible dream, but when I opened them, Brad was still on top of me, and Dave was still watching.
Wanting a cloak of invisibility, I reached my hand out and grasped at the cover that we were laying on. When I was finally able to grab it in my hand, I bunched it up and pulled it toward me, until the bottom of the comforter was on the bed. Then I latched on to the end of the comforter and yanked it up and over our bodies, successfully covering the lower half, but unfortunately not enough to cover our heads, which was my intention.
Later I’d realize that the entire production lasted only about five minutes, but it felt like an eternity to me.
I turned my head to the other side of the room and closed my eyes. I’m not sure if I passed out, or just drifted away in my mind, as I waited for Brad to reach whatever conclusion he was looking for, but a few seconds later, everything was still.
My eyes were still squeezed shut when Brad slid out of me, kissed my temple, and said, “Thanks, Gwen.”
I kept them closed until I heard the door open and what sounded like feet shuffling out. Then I peeked through my lids, looking all around the room to make sure they were both gone.
When I was certain they were gone, I threw the covers off and brought myself up to a sitting position as I reached down for my panties, which were dangling off my right ankle. I paused in horror as I noticed the reddish-brown stain on Brad’s blue comforter.
“He’s gonna have to wash that or it’ll never come out,” I murmured to myself as I struggled to get my underwear on and exit the bed, without touching the offensive stain.
I was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at Brad’s trophies and trying to remember whether or not he’d even used a condom, when I heard a commotion at the door.
“There you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Craig’s voice said from behind me.
I turned my face toward the comforting sound of his voice, but couldn’t find it in me to respond.
“What the fuck?” he asked angrily when he looked me over and saw the tears running silently down my face. Craig rushed into the room and over to my side, placing his arm around my shoulder and inquiring, “What happened, Gwen?”
I could hear the fear and rage in his voice, even as I felt the comfort of his arm around me, but instead of answering his question, I leaned forward and threw up the contents of my stomach.
Chapter Eleven ~ Craig
(16 years old)
As I listened to the sound of my best friend retching, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the stain on the comforter. The rage I felt was so acute that it was taking every ounce of control not to tear through the room like a wild animal and go on a hunt. I concentrated on keeping my touch gentle as I stroked Gwen’s back in what I hoped was a soothing pattern.
When she gagged one final time, then drew in a shaky breath as she wiped the back of her hand over her mouth, I could no longer hold my tongue.
“Who was here, Gwen?” I asked softly against her ear. “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know… they left.” Her voice was scratchy from the excessive vomiting, but all I heard was that one pronoun.
“They?” My skin itched with the rage rippling through me. “Jesus, fuck, Gwen. Talk to me. Who are they?”
She turned her head toward me then. Her eyes looked alarmingly vacant, and her face confused.
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s not what you think… Dave just watched.”
I stood up swiftly, unable to care that I walked through Gwen’s puked as I stomped up to the dresser and kicked it as hard as I could. The cheap wood broke, and my foot became momentarily lodged as I let out a string of curses.
Mother-fucking Dave was going to die.
