On being kinky.

I mean, I understand where it all came from, and it’s more obvious now that I’m older, but I still had a vague idea back then. I just sort of regret it a little.

By the time I was 16, I had mostly given up on trying to make friends. With that came the acceptance that I was likely never going to have a girlfriend. I was surprisingly okay with it at the time, since if I couldn’t talk to people in general, having a girlfriend would have been a disaster anyway. As such, my lonely ass turned to what every other teen in the world over indulges in: Porn.

The acceptance that I was going to die a virgin was, in a strange way, freeing. I was watching mostly FFM stuff, not really caring that I’d never be in a threesome because porn itself was just an escape. I guess I didn’t feel guilty about fantasizing about whatever I wanted. Slowly, that desire for multiple partners became a desire to be free to fuck wherever and whoever I wanted. Free use, basically. And why should I have felt guilty about it? There was never going to be anyone who’d have to deal with these growing kinks, right? I saw videos of girls in sexy underwear, saw pictures, art, read short ‘free use’ stories, watched threesomes and even ‘reverse gangbangs’ where there was one guy and like 20 women around him.

Basically, I’m saying that during the latter half of my teen formative years, porn had an impact on me. All things considered, I don’t think I turned out as bad as I could have, but it definitely had an effect. The real issue lies in the fact that I was wrong about my future.

I did get a girlfriend. Several girlfriends. Girls that very much wanted to have sex with me. Girls that now had to deal with my perverted desires.

Before, in my fantasies, it didn’t matter that I imagined myself fucking a random woman in the middle of the street because it was just that, a fantasy and my imagination. Now, however, the women I wanted to do all these things with were real. They had names, families, friends, reputations…

Doing it with Grace in the restroom, with Sarah in her kitchen, with Mila in her car… It all was overwhelmingly arousing, so much so it was blinding. It was also equally dangerous, and it filled me with guilt.

Hadn’t Mila’s parents just asked me to look after her daughter? And only minutes after, I was asking her to get naked in her car so we could fuck. What would I have done if Grace and I had been caught? What would Sarah’s parents say if they knew her daughter brought practically a stranger to their house and he fucked her on their kitchen table? What would Noelle and Alice’s families say if they knew a guy took them to a hotel and asked them to have their first time in a threesome?

All this was occupying my thoughts as I finished dressing myself in Mila’s car. She was also practically done, only missing her tie and her blazer, her shirt already tucked into her skirt.

My eyes lingered on her, and my heart throbbed. I love her. I really do. I love her every bit as much as I lust for her, which is what makes it all so difficult. I want to do lewd, risky things with her, but I don’t want to put her in danger of anything. Danger of being seen, of being ridiculed, of being shunned…

What we’d just done was…

“That was amazing,” Mila said, giggling giddily and kissing my cheek. “I love it when you get so dominant, so aggressive! It’s a rare treat, but by God does it make everything feel twice as good.”

She loved it. Of course she did. She loved having sex with me and… she loved me. She wanted to do these things with me, because she loved me and because it felt good. I knew I wasn’t tricking anyone. We were both young adults in a consensual relationship. Even so, something about it felt… wrong.

“I’m glad you liked it,” I told her, kissing her cheek back.

She giggled at first, but being as sharp as she is (and with the lesser version of the sixth sense that she and the others had), she noticed there was something off about me.

“Oliver? What’s wrong?”

Hiding things from them was always useless. No, it was worse in the end, since they’d get mad that I was hiding things. Our relationship was built, or was being built, on openness and honesty.

“I loved doing this, Mila,” I began, squeezing her hand. “I felt incredible. Doing it in places like this… is a huge turn on for me.” I swallowed. “But I worry that I’m doing something wrong by dragging you and the others into what I want. One screw up and you can get in huge trouble. I don’t want that.”

I was glad that Mila didn’t dismiss my concerns immediately. She rested her head on my shoulder, caressed my hand, and pondered on it.

“And you call me the most empathic person you know,” she jokingly scoffed. “You’re worse than me. You know you’re also risking your own neck doing stuff like this, right?”

I nodded. “If I get caught and have to suffer the consequences, then I will. I was my choice, after all.”

“There you go.” Mila bopped my nose. “Same goes for me. Doing it in the car was my idea to begin with, right?”

“What if… What if the consequence is that we can’t see each other anymore?”

Mila frowned. “Why would that happen?”

“If your parents knew what we did here, do you think they’d happily invite me over to your house again? I don’t think my mom would be very happy if she found out.”

Mila flinched. “W-Well… Then we just run away!”

That got a laugh out of me. “Run away? Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

I shook my head, ginning. “Idiot.” I kissed her forehead. “I don’t want to run away. I’ll just need to hold back on this kind of stuff.”

“Wrong. We just have to not get caught!”

If only there was a way to make sure we didn’t.

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