Used & Abused: The Katie Chronicles

I don't really know where to start. It feels strange going back to the beginning after everything that's happened since. I'm such a different person now than I was back then. I mean gawd I was such a goody-goody! I remember really thinking that Steven loved me. I mean he told me so! He was my first real boyfriend; I was 18 years old, a senior in high school, but I was ready to believe anything. He looked deep into my eyes and told me that he would never leave me. I sighed wistfully and thought I was in Heaven. Little did I know that he just wanted to cop a feel; not that it bugged me or anything, but when things looked like they were going to get purely physical, I wanted to see how far he would go for me first. And lo and behold, the spineless prick didn't even try to fuck me once I put on the slightest hard-to-get act. To be honest, I'm not sure if I would have let him or not. He wouldn't have been my first. I'd let one of the neighboring boys up at the cottage the previous summer use and me for a few weeks. But I was still a real prick-tease when I was with Steven. Now that I think of it, though, I probably would have at least given him a hand-job if he had only asked for it.

My name is Katie Moore. I'm 5'8", 120 lbs., and although I'm already 18 years old I know for a fact that I look quite young for my age. I also know that I've certainly turned some heads in my time. I'm a petite little hottie, I've been told. I'm really not trying to be immodest here, but the story just wouldn't work if you didn't know certain things about me, and the first of them is that most men would do me without a second thought. I guess they like my face; high cheekbones, blue eyes, and blonde hair tied back in a bouncy ponytail. And my friend Sarah says that I have what she calls "blowjob lips"—nice full ones, made extra sensuous by the glistening cherry-red lipstick I often wore. In high school you would have thought of me as the "all-American girl". No one—and I mean no one—would have thought that I would become the school slut by grade twelve. I used to wear long—and I mean long—skirts. Big, baggy blouses and sometimes—when I was feeling particularly studious—thick horned-rimmed glasses. I was pretty back then, don't get me wrong. This isn't some "She's So Fine" ugly-duckling-becomes-a-swan story. No, I was hot even with all that extra clothing on. But things certainly got a bit more interesting when I decided to show myself off a bit.

The week after Steve broke up with me I was miserable. I had never been dumped before. It happened on a Monday morning and all through the week I just felt depressed. By Friday the depression had begun to fade and I was just feeling angry. Who the hell did he think he was? I could have given the snotty little bastard so much, but because I wouldn't shove his dick in my mouth the moment he asked for it, he decided I was no good? Fuck him! I decided that I would make a real effort to show him exactly what he had given up.

The Friday after he had broken up with me I stayed late at school, working in the library on a paper. Outside I could hear the football team doing squats, but inside the school was almost completely deserted. By 5:00, when the library finally kicked me out, the halls were dark and the field outside was quiet.

I went to my locker, on the second floor, across from the boys' locker room. I could still hear the shower running and one or two voices coming from within, so I knew that I was not the last one in the school. I opened my locker and slowly began putting my books away. My mind was still racing and I was still fuming at the way I had been treated earlier in the week. I was thinking about the way in which I would really show Stephen how big a mistake he had made, when fate provided me with a perfect chance.

All of the sudden I heard a high-pitched laugh from within the locker room. The door slammed open and I heard a loud "thwack!" split the air. Clutching a loose towel up against his groin area, Ben Farber crashed into the hallway, the tip of another wet, rolled-up towel cracking like a whip behind him.

Ben was a nice guy. He had been my lab partner in Chemistry class the previous semester. He was on the football team, but was not a mindless athlete—he was pretty smart, actually, and although he was somewhat popular he didn't let it get to his head. He saw me the moment he fumbled into the hallway, gave a cute little shriek, and promptly dropped his towel.

Well! I was startled about the incredible situation I had just been placed in. Here I was, newly single, and one of the hottest guys in the school stood before me, naked as the day he was born. I gulped softly before my eyes travelled from his, down the length of his torso before they came to rest on the long, thick mass that dangled between his legs. In one moment I recovered.