Chapter 1

To kick off my stories, you gotta get that being a woman with a huge sex drive is damn near impossible without catching some nasty label the second you show it in public. I’ve always played by society’s rules to avoid getting cut out, ‘cause my biggest fear is being alone, and I never wanted that as my sidekick. Everything flipped after this messy relationship I had, and yeah, I’ll spill that here down the line. I figure starting with my first time is the classic move…

It went down around when I was sixteen. Back then, I was your average girl, never shy about stuff. I’d make out with boys at parties or after school, get some heavy petting going, but it was always super tame. No hands slipping under my clothes, no groping my tits—best they got was a squeeze on my ass over my jeans. And it wasn’t like I didn’t wanna go further; I just didn’t dwell on it and wasn’t ready. No guy I was head over heels for that I trusted enough. I wanted it to be special, and even if those options lined up, I had no spot to do it anyway.

I had these steady hookups, one turned into kinda a boyfriend, but since he was all about soccer, I benched his ass. Then there was my buddy Johnny—he grew up with me, we went from kindergarten through high school together. I never saw him that way; he was just a solid friend and nothing more. But it all started with this chat, us sitting on my porch on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

“Vee, this weird neurosis just hit me…”

“Don’t tell me you’re on that weed trip again?” I said, trying to shut him down.

He always talked about studying philosophy ‘cause he loved mulling over shit. Sometimes these ideas would pop in his head and he’d get all obsessive, spinning conspiracy theories and hunting fixes for every what-if. Bottom line, the dude was a total stoner.

“So, ever think about dying a virgin?”

“But who gives a fuck then? If you’re dead, it’s game over, dude!”

“It’s so damn sad for someone to leave this world without feeling the rush of being with someone they love!”

“Sad is a kid dying, man! Fuck the rest!” I shot back, being a total asshole.

“You’re such a bitch!”

That talk went on way longer than that. Our arguments got heated on any topic; I usually thought his points were lame, but we’d bicker and laugh for hours. Right then, from the porch where we were chilling, we heard his mom honking from the car outside.

“I’m coming!” he yelled.

“Don’t forget your stuff in my room again!” I reminded the forgetful idiot.

He dashed inside, said bye to my folks, blew past me like a rocket, and bolted through the gate.

“See you Monday!” he shouted, hopping in the car.

“Kisses, kisses, Aunt!” I hollered at the people in the car.

I headed back inside and to my room to get shit ready for school on Monday. That’s when I spotted it on the side table: his forgotten laptop, wide open. He’d rushed out and left the damn computer. I grabbed my phone to text him.

“Dude, your computer’s at my place.”

“Shit, Vee, shut it down and plug it in to charge. I’ll grab it from you at school tomorrow, cool?”

Wouldn’t be the first time. Johnny was always ditching something at my house, and I’d haul it to him the next day. I hooked up the cord and set it on my bed by the outlet. That’s when the devil whispered in my ear, “What the hell does this weirdo look at online?” I thought to myself. I knew his password; I’d used that laptop a dozen times before.

I started with the history and bookmarks. Some porn sites, nothing sick or over-the-top. Looked like his favorite performers were the ones I’d suggested to him. This amateur couple I dug a lot—whenever I wanted to rub one out, I’d peek at them to get in the mood. “Picture me right in the middle; hell, I’d even go for the chick!” —that’s what always ran through my head. I was never big on masturbating or watching porn much; it always seemed too fake and forced. But apparently my friend binged the shit. And nah, I mentioned grabbing the woman, but I’m not into that at all. I steer clear of any dykes crossing my path.

I was good with my snooping; no need to check his social messages ‘cause he told me everything—I pretty much knew his whole life. Then I remembered to look at recent files. And holy shit, I got the scare of my life that left me freaking out! There was a pic of me in the recent files—a bikini shot, but totally normal; it was even on my Instagram! I clicked into the folder to see what else, and I was straight-up terrified: like forty-some photos of me in there! None were slutty or nude; mostly social media snaps or group pics I’d taken. But I started wondering why he’d picked those specific ones and, for fuck’s sake, why he had my photos on his computer at all.

“If I ask him about this, what the hell’s he gonna say?” I had no clue what to think. I didn’t figure he’d ever wanna hurt me. But then I noticed patterns: in all of them, I was showing more skin—like a sexier dress, beach pic, bolder cleavage, that kinda thing. “Does he get off on me?” He’d never shown any interest before; I couldn’t recall him checking me out where he shouldn’t, and trust me, I wasn’t modest—he’d seen me plenty in PJs or bikinis. I was seriously tripped out by it. My worst fear was him being in love with me; he was my friend, and that’d be a huge mess.