Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 M, F, Cons, hum

  
***************************************************************************
*** Thank-you to anyone who took the time to give me feedback on my first
two stories; your comments are greatly appreciated.  I know the subject
matter of my last one was a little unsettling and somewhat depressing but
that was a chapter in my life and one that ended there.  I can't say that
it's going to be sunshine and rainbows from this point on but I certainly
do grow up.

   When trying to decide about what to write about next I considered
writing about my first real boyfriend or about my experiences in my first
year of college but instead I chose to write about my most embarrassing
moment.  It's lighthearted and looking back I think it's downright
funny.........at the time I wanted to curl up and die I hope you like it.

  
***************************************************************************
**

   High school was finally over!  I couldn't have been happier.  For the
first time I was looking toward the future with the plans I had made.  I
had to decide between going with the arts and dance or into the math and
science.  Luckily I had a head on my shoulders and realized that dancing is
a young girls game so I went for math.  I was enrolled in the undergrad
program where I would work toward getting into physics or astronomy I
hadn't decided yet but then again I had lots of time to decide.  The best
part, and at the same time the scariest was that I was going to go away for
university.  This sounded like the best of all worlds until their car
pulled away.

   The move in day was a scene of hectic confusion.  There were older
students trying to help and tell you were to go, they were noticeable by
their orange shirts.  Some really wanted to help and others seemed like
they were just trying to make new friends.  All the parents were still
there either exchanging pleasantries with each other or doing heavy
lifting. Then came the moment when they said good bye, it didn't feel right
but it was still exciting all at the same time.  They were really going to
leave me here.......on my own.

   I come from a big city in Ontario, that's Canada for anyone who doesn't
know.  When I was in high school we had something called OCA or as some
people called it grade 13.  By the time some of us graduated we were
already 19, my B-day is in March so I was one of these people.  The reason
that I mention this, the reason 19 is the magic number, is because 19
happens to be the age that a person can legally consume alcohol in Canada.
Consuming alcohol seemed like a sport for some in my dorm, there was always
something going down.  It was everywhere and even though I wasn't a hard
drinker by any means I did drink enough to lose my sense of direction some
nights.  I even ended up with my panties down on a guy's bed a few times.

   That was the other thing that nobody bothered to tell me: all the things
that made me a nerd in high school were actually valued here.  Guys found
me hot and they weren't afraid to say it.  I had developed over the last
few years too, I wasn't a stick anymore.  I still had my long brown hair
that sort of curled at the bottom and my big brown eyes.  Now my boobs were
as big as they were going to get, that being a b cup, but I was finally
comfortable with that.  My hips widened nicely giving my more feminine
curves then I had ever been use to.  As a result I started to get a trill
from showing them off; I was wearing short skirts for the first time in my
life outside of being on stage.  I would wear tight fitting shirts, some of
them with no backs.  I also started to wear my contacts more as I felt like
guys were looking at me.

   This doesn't mean I became the dorm mattress, mostly I would just flirt.
It gave me a sense of being a woman and honestly I liked the attention. 
Like I said before there were some nights that I ended up in a compromising
position or two but I had enjoyed each time it happened and didn't have
regrets.  In any event my studies were my main priority and often I would
resist the drink binges that some of my new friends would go on in order to
stay in and study.

   This all added up to having the time of my life.  I met great friends,
was treated more like an adult than ever before, felt like I had
responsibility (even if I was still protected) and most of all I felt like
I had freedom.  All this and I wasn't even thinking about having a
boyfriend anymore, that seemed like all I ever thought about in high school
but that seemed so long ago like a distant memory.  It was around that time
when of course it happened; I scored my first actual boyfriend!

   We met in a University ballet club and hit it off pretty much right
away. He was studying Kinesiology and was in his 3rd year.  I'd like to say
that this was a meeting of the minds, a match made in the
stars...............but really it was just a lot of fucking.  We fucked
before class, we fucked after class, we fucked between classes, we fucked
where ever we could and everywhere we could.  This probably wasn't the
recipe for marriage but I wasn't looking to get married and this was what I
wanted to do.  No matter how we did it he was respectful of me and never
put me down.

   Being around him was great and I enjoyed all of it, he took me out to
different places and introduced me to new people.  However, in the end I
wasn't looking for a commitment at that time so when school was ending I
broke it off.  I had no idea just how hard that was to do, I had heard
about it many times, seen it in movies but until you actually do it you
don't know anything about it.  He had taught me a lot, especially about how
men and women interact and I have never forgotten him.

   It also hit me that school was in fact ending.  I had to go back home, I
mean I was just staying at the university I hadn't really moved out.  I was
so sad to leave; some tears were shed as some of the girls knew that they
weren't getting back in next year.  I knew that I was coming back but I
knew it would be different, in the second year you live off campus so dorm
life was in fact over.  The notion was bittersweet as I knew that I had
enjoyed it and I knew that I would be moving in with four of the best
girlfriends that I had ever made the next year.  The problem was that that
was four months away!

   In the meantime I was going home.  I still had Angie and Sarah, my
friends from high school, at home and I missed them a lot so it wasn't all
bad.  The three of us would talk on the phone almost every weekend so we
were still very much up to date with each other.  I was excited to see
them. I wasn't so excited to be going home though.  I loved my parents and
everything that they did for me but going back to our house was a little
hard.

   What hit me the worst was when I put my bag down in my old room for the
first time and nothing had changed.  It felt like it was the room of a
different girl, someone who I had known but wasn't me.  All my dance medals
and trophies were still proudly displayed, my purple curtains looked as
girly as ever, the flowers that my dad had painted on the walls still
peeked out from behind them and the paper butterflies still hung in the
same place that I had left them.  Other than the obvious weekly dusting
everything was the same.  Yep, my bedroom was one of a little girl.

   As I was lost in reflective thought I was ever so rudely interrupted by
my mother.  Of course she wanted me to go help with the junk that we loaded
into the cube van that it took to move me back.  We got all the boxes up
and started to unpack, this was a cathartic moment sort of speak where the
new me started to invade the old.  As miniskirts started to go where baggy
jeans had once been and tank tops replaced my loose fitting sweaters I
started to feel like the new me again.  Pictures of druken girls engaged in
ritual dances went over the flowers on the walls.  There certainly were a
lot of changes in me and there really wasn't any turning back.

   From my parents point of view all this happened in a vacuum and I'm not
so sure they were ready to see it all at once; especially not my dad.  When
I left I was still very much daddy's little angel who could do no wrong.  I
was the unassuming girl that smiled at everyone and wore stars and flowers
on her loose fitting shirts.  The first day home I was wearing my cut off
shorts that were cut off at my butt and left little to the imagination.  To
me I was just expressing myself; to him I was going to get changed and
leave the house when I was ready to look respectable.

   This was the first of more than a couple fights we had that summer about
what I was going to wear.  I'm not really sure why I did it but to me it
was of the upmost importance that I at least tried to show off my legs. 
Each argument usually ended with me changing as it still was "his house,
his rules", but no matter how I was defeated I would take up the fight
again in the not so distant future.

   That wasn't all I did that summer as I was not lounging around and
visiting my friends all the time.  I had a good job, I had gotten an intern
position at a weather office and that was my first taste of real work.  I
even got to wear a lab coat and everything!  I felt sexy in this white lab
coat and I would wear my glasses to complete the look, I could feel eyes on
me in the hallways.  Yes indeed, high school was over!

   All in all I was having a good summer; after all I was an adult, right?

   It was around this time of everything going right that my father's
annual staff pool party took place.  This was basically where the teachers
on his staff (he was a high school principal) would come over, use the pool
and get completely drunk.  If anyone has ever had the opportunity to see
educators away from the schools they educate in it is an orgy of alcohol.
In years past I would always hang out during the party and talk to some of
his friends.  They all liked me and always seemed happy to see me.  This
year was no exception as I was again not only invited but expected to be
there.The thing was that the idea of a party had sort of changed to me and
this was no exception.

   I was 20 years old now and I wasn't going to be afraid to have a beer or
two.  I also went out and bought a bathing suit just for this occasion and
I do use that term loosely.  What I bought was more like a couple of red
strings that went over my vagina and nipples.  I don't think I had ever
done something so obnoxious in my life; I was really looking for a fight.

   The party was getting ready to begin.  The backyard was set up, the
cooler was full of beer, my mom was putting the finishing touches to the
scene as only she could and even my brother Greg had brought his girlfriend
over to make their presence known.  It was at that time I was sitting on my
purple sheets in my underwear getting ready to put my tini tiny red bikini
on to make my presence known.  So on it went, I made the adjustments to
make sure nothing so popping out of it and headed for the first flight of
stairs.

   I had almost made it down the back split when I heard a voice bellow in
a thunderous panic, "MICHELLE OLIVIA (last name) GET YOUSELF UPSTAIRS!"

   Every syllable of all three of my names was stressed so there could be
no confusion as to what the problem was, to which I responded, "What's the
problem?"

   "The problem is that you've been raised better than that and I won't
have it in my house" my father said restraining as to not break a blood
vessel in his forehead.

   This time I was going to dig my heels in.  I decided that at my dad's
party, in my parents house and just minutes before the guests arrived that
I was an adult and I was going to wear whatever I liked.  How adult of me
huh?  I mean this was my plan from the moment I bought the bikini, my dad
didn't even like miniskirts what did I expect him to say to my bare ass on
display to all his friends.  Did I expect him to say, "oh you look lovely
honey"?  Of course I didn't, I expected a fight and a fight I got.

   He grabbed me by the wrist and started leading me up the stairs.  I
could tell that he didn't want to make eye contact with my practically
naked body.  Even if he wasn't looking at me he was yelling at me.  Now I
sort of knew how my brother felt I had never been yelled at like this
before.  My mom was probably sensing an epic struggle and came to try to
make peace.  In the end the three of us came to a compromise, that I would
wear a pair of shorts and a t-shirt over my bikini and I could only take
them off if I was in the pool when I got out I had to put my shorts and
shirt right back on.  There was to be no walking around in the bikini.

   I wasn't happy, in fact I was being a little bitch, but really I had
gotten my way this time: the bikini stayed on.  Sure I had to put some low
cut shorts over them but really if I started at the shorts I would have had
to take them off; make no mistake this was a victory for me.

   My parents had just barely left my room when the first of the guests
started to arrive.  The party was going off like it had in other years,
lot's drinking, there was card playing and my brother's obnoxious attempts
to be the life of it.  I spent most of the afternoon talking to familiar
faces and giving them updates about my adventures in university, well at
least the updates I felt comfortable with giving.  I talked about my
dancing too and whatever else they knew about me.  It's funny how up to a
certain age conversations with older people tend to revolve around
yourself.

   It was almost 5 o'clock before I decided to use the central piece of a
pool party: the pool.  The pool was empty as it is at most pool parties. 
It more serves as a piece of the scenery and every now and then someone
jumps in and gets out.  I wanted to swim but I also wanted to show off my
bikini.  A lot of the teachers there had known me for years and this wasn't
want they expected of me.  Still most of it was in my head as I was not the
star and this was not my stage, all eyes didn't focus on me as I flopped
around in the pool.

   I bobbed and floated in the pool and our neighbor began to talk to me. I
swam along the edges of the pool and he walked on the outside.  I don't
want to use his real name as I had known him since we moved in roughly 14
years earlier so I will call him Mr.  Sandor.  I didn't know him well but
he was always nice to me when I was a kid, in that I wasn't scared to go
into his yard my ball or frisbee went there.  He was Hungarian and olive in
complexion, he was in his early or mid 40's but he looked good.  He was in
shape and had a casual dressing style that somehow still looked formal.  He
spoke with a bit of an accent but it suited him and his look very well.

   I didn't know that much about him but he had been the subject of
whispers and gossip that even my parents engaged in.  From what I could
gather his wife picked up and left him one day without even notice.  This
was years ago and I really didn't understand all that was said but what the
truth was or wasn't I had no idea.  One time I would hear that she took the
kids and returned to their country other times I had heard that she took
off with some guy to the States.  One thing for sure is that I never heard
him talk about it so who knows what really happened.  I did feel sort of
sorry for him as he seemed like he would be lonely living in that big house
all by himself.

   Mr, Sandor was the only one who didn't talk to be about my year at
school.  Instead we talked about him which was a bit of a welcome change
for me as the other conversations were getting monotonous.  He was telling
me about his trip to Mexico that he returned from recently.  How he went
scuba diving off this little Island called Cozumel in the Caribbean Sea. 
It sounded like quite the adventure and it was enough to hold my interest
as I rested my arms against the side of the pool and listened intently.

   He offered to get me a drink and I accepted, he handed me the can and
kept talking to me looking down from the outside of the pool.  I didn't
really like the taste of beer that much and I voiced my opinion as I choked
it back as I had done many nights before.  Mr, Sandor told me that he got
some premium Tequila while he was in Mexico, stuff that would go for $300 a
bottle in Canada and told me that I could try some.  I don't know why but
when I said ok I sort of expected him to bring it to me.  Instead I had
just agreed to go over to his house it just occurred to me.

   I was a big girl I thought to myself, if I want to have a drink of
Tequila at a man's house what is the harm in that?  I got out of the pool
and found my shorts and shirt and put them on as I had agreed to do and
quietly left the party.

   We went into his house through the sliding back door where it opened
into what looked almost like a bar.  I had never been to Mr.  Sandors house
before, he seemed to have expensive taste.  In a room where we had a TV and
sofa he had various expensive looking decorations and a table you would
stand around like at a bar.  The table was circular and had three high
chairs that went around it.  Everything was very stylish in a European way.
There was a white sofa off to the side across the room and a mini bar on
the other side.  There was no TV the entertainment seemed to be the
different conversation pieces from different parts of the world.  I was
impressed.

   I waited at the small table and he went to get the Tequila.  He put the
Tequila on the table and then went up to the kitchen when he returned he
had a lemon and some salt.  He told me that if I found the taste too strong
that I could try the lemon and salt but that it was better to drink it
without.  He poured two shots we touched glasses and down it went.  It
didn't burn like a lot of hard alcohol that I had tried in the past it was
smooth.  I had even tried Tequila before but it always tasted harsher than
this.

   Before I could think shot two was ready and down it went.  I was feeling
good now, I was really handling my booze!  There was no break until after
shot three was down the hatch.  I didn't want to admit it but my knees were
feeling like they were going to give out; I was getting drunk.

   We talked more about Mexico and other exotic beaches that Mr.  Sandor
had visited.  His accent was sounding nicer with each shot.  In a
suggestive way he told me that, "Michelle my dear, you would be one of the
most beautiful women on the beach in a place like Rio."

   I'm sure it was a line but I wasn't about to disagree with the
compliment.  He told me, "One thing that troubles me is that the girls on
the beaches wouldn't be wearing shorts to cover their lovely bodies."

   "My dad is making me wear them when I'm not in the pool." I defended
myself

   Pouring another shot and looking around she said, "I don't see your
father anywhere miss"

   With that I stepped out of my shorts and took of my shirt, I was
standing in my complete bikini glory drinking Tequila with a man more than
double my age.  I was feeling pretty good too and being a bit of a flirt.
I'm not sure when it happened but there didn't seem to be that much
distance between us now.  When we started drinking he was across the small
table from me and now he was standing on the same side as me.

   "There's something else the girls do at the beaches around the world" he
said looking at me with eyes that could devour.

   I didn't respond, I sort of looked at the floor and he hooked his thumb
under my bikini bottom and started talking them off.  I wasn't standing
that straight but I tried to help him get me out of them.  I knew by that
time that he was trying to fuck me and I was going to let him.  Soon the
bottoms were on the floor and he was working his tongue in and out of my
mouth.

   He was a really good kisser.  He knew how to kiss in just the right way
to make you anticipate the next kiss and tease you when it didn't come. 
His hands were soft but firm as his hands explored my body.  He explored,
but not the places the boys my age usually went for.  He would more feel
all the different parts of my body and stroke behind my ears all while
kissing me from my lips down to my neck.  I was soon completely exposed to
him but he hadn't tried to finger me yet, he was taking his time and
kissing me everywhere.  Like he knew what he had me and he was going to
enjoy it.

   Soon the kissing and caressing was coming to a stop and he started to
remove his pants.  His dick stood up straight on 115 degree angle as it
became clear that it was my turn to give him pleasure.  I got down on my
knees in front of him and took the head into my mouth.  I wanted to try to
show off any skill that I might have learned over the past year but
honestly I felt like a lightweight.  I bobbed my head up and down on his
dick and he groaned and grunted in approval.  He had a nice sized cock, it
wasn't too long but it was big around.  I would guess that it was around
six maybe six and a half inches long but very thick and full.  His balls
were neatly shaven and huge, they hung like big smooth pockets of skin.  He
told me to lick them and I did.

   I think I must have sucked his dick for 10 or 15 minutes.  I did it slow
and I did it fast, I licked it up and down and even kissed the head.  All
the tricks I knew to this point were on display but I couldn't ignore that
my knees were starting to hurt.  Maybe he sensed this when he looked down
at me and he picked me up by the wrist, sort of like my dad did earlier in
the day when he pulled me to my room.  Mr.  Sandor didn't have to pull me
he more lead me to the sofa.

   "Bend over sweetheart" was what he said to me as we got there.

   His cock was pretty thick and it took a bit of work to get it in but in
no time we were fucking.  He pushed me forward onto the white sofa until I
was on my hands and knees.  He was holding my hips and fucking me really
hard.  I buried my head into the cushion and continued to take his assault.
It felt fantastic.  Mr.  Sandor had clearly been with a lot of women and I
made me feel like one when he pounded me.

   Mr Sandor grabbed the back of my head and for the first time I had my
hair pulled.  I don't know why but it set me off and I started bucking back
hard.  He sensed that this intrusion was welcomed and took even more of my
hair into his hands.  I must have been quite the sight, bent over the
neighbor's sofa being pummeled by his cock while being completely in his
power.  The image wasn't lost in my mind as I lost control of my body.

   My orgasm came unexpected and hard.  I had never cum from intercourse
before but something was different this time.  The pulling of my hair
seemed to open all of my nerve endings and his balls were smacking into my
clit sending me over the edge even as I was cumming.

   "You fucking bitch" he hissed at me.

   Then, "Take my cock you slut"......

   and, "you like this you whore"

   He was talking dirty to me.  This was once again a first in a long line
of firsts that evening.  Under any normal circumstances he was looking at a
slap in the face but this wasn't a normal circumstance.  I felt completely
owned by him and welcomed his insults to loader moaning and another really
hard orgasm.

   He continued to shout obscenities at me as he fucked me.  I wasn't sure
how much more I could take.  The guys that I had been with would usually
fuck for 5 or 10 minutes tops and then cum.  He had been pounded in rhythm
for over 20 minutes now.  Soon the pace got even faster and his grunts got
more necessary.  Until I felt him push me all the way into the sofa so my
body was pressed like a pretzel into the cushions, he let out a loud growl
and started cumming.  He pulled out half way and then buried it again and
must have shot four more spurts.

   I felt myself sobering up as he got up to wipe the sweat off himself.  I
looked behind me and saw the trail of my clothes that led to the little
table were we drank Tequila when it hit me: I had been gone for an awfully
long time!  He came back with a very relaxed demeanor and a towel for me
but I was anything but relaxed.  I stood up quickly.

   "I have to get back" I said as I skipped over the towel and went right
for my bottoms.

   "Get back where?" he inquired with a big smile on his face.

   "To the party, my parents are probably looking for me", I uttered while
putting on my string bikini, my shorts and my shirt all of which were still
wet from when I was in the pool.

   He told me that he didn't want me to go and that I should stay for
another shot, perhaps a cigar.  I wasn't hearing it, it was going to be
dark soon and I couldn't have my parents knowing that I was next door with
our divorced neighbor getting the living daylights fucked out of me.

   I made it out the back door and through his dark backyard.  I could see
the lights from our backyard and I wanted to sneak in smoothly and
seamlessly.  I figured that through the side door and then through the back
door was the best way.  The bathroom was beside the side door and there was
a lot of traffic from there to the outside through the back door.  I made
my move and ended up back in the party.  I seemed like just the way I left
it except the people were a bit drunker and I was drunk now too.

   I figured that I had committed the perfect crime.  I was still glowing
from my orgasms as my world still felt completely rocked.  Still I had an
uneasy feeling and the way people were looking at me wasn't making me feel
any better.  Could they tell?  I just didn't know how they could have.  I
was around the backyard for like 15 minutes and I hadn't spoken to anyone
but I could feel more looks and even see people biting their tongues.  I
was getting a bit frantic in my mind but I was stuck in my place, I had to
act natural.

   I was trying to play it cool and then perhaps they would stop, but it
didn't stop.  Soon my mom came up behind me and wrapped a towel around my
waist.  Her words are words that are tattooed into my memory and I will
never forget them as long as I live.  She said softly and firmly in an
almost sympathetic voice, "Honey, you need to go to the upstairs washroom
and clean up that mess".

   I couldn't believe it, after it took me a few seconds to realize what
the mess was I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.  I nearly cried on the
spot as I looked squarely at the ground and made my way quickly to the
upstairs washroom.  The cum had leaked down my leg when I stood up, it
didn't really register because I had been in the pool and was wet to begin
with.  Still the evidence was overwhelming when I turned on the big lights
in the washroom and removed the towel.  The cum was all down the back of my
leg and my right thigh and there was a lot of it.  His penis was very thick
and had opened me up quite a bit it basically had flowed like a river
obscenely down the leg.  Then I walked around the backyard to display my
humiliation.

   I had never been so embarrassed of anything in my life.  I was trying to
clean it with toilet paper as I would frantically rub the wetted tissue but
it didn't seem to come off instead the tissue just tore and balled up on my
leg.  I was fighting tears and rubbing my eyes which of course just
irritated my eyes and made it even harder to see.  I was a complete mess
and I was drunk.  Then came the knock on the door.

   I didn't want to see anyone.  If I couldn't have turned into water and
went down the drain I would have.  "Are you ok in there honey?" Thank god
it was my mother.

   "Please go away", I said in my most meek and non offensive voice I could
muster.

   "I'll be right here in the bedroom if you need me sweetheart", my mom
reminded me.

   I'm sure she could tell how upset I was.  I was the queen of the idiots
and worse I was scared that my dad knew and about what he would do.  That I
would have broken his heart or let him down.  A million thoughts were going
through my head as I fruitlessly tried to wipe the cum off my leg.  One
thing was clear that I was going to have to get into the shower if I
expected to get this off.

   The hot water did the trick and my eyes ever cleared up too.  The noise
of the shower seemed to cut me off from everyone outside, from my mother in
the bedroom and most of all from my father in the backyard.  The little
balls of toilet paper started to wash away.  I looked at my body from the
tip of my painted toenail to the tip of my breast to the end of my
fingernail.  I still had good control of my body as I stood up in a
ballerina pose on one foot.  Probably wasn't the safest decision given my
blood alcohol level but it gave me a sense of calm and I think it reminded
me that my parents really are proud of me.

   I slowly dance posed my way out of the shower completely naked in front
of the mirror.  I dried the fog with a hair dryer and the image became
clearer.  This time I looked at my face and down to my pussy which was
neatly trimmed on top and hairless below.  I cupped my perky breast with my
hands and breathed out slowly as if I was doing yoga.  I looked at myself
straight in the eyes and tried not to break contact.  Soon I knew that I
had to leave the bathroom eventually so I dried my naked body off and put
two towels around it.

   When I opened the door I opened it slowly and tip toed to my room.  My
mom wasn't in her bedroom and nobody was waiting for me in mine.  I put on
my nightie and got under the covers just like I did when I was a little
girl.  I pretended that only I existed inside the walls of the blankets and
that nobody could harm me; my shield was unbreakable.  I think it was only
around 8 or 9 at night so it wasn't very late.  I had lots of time in my
fortress to think about things and think about being more mature.  What I
really realized was that I wasn't as big as I may have thought and that I
still had a lot to learn.  A few hours passed in this meditative state
before I heard the door to my room open.

   By the footsteps I could tell that it was my dad.  Fear set in and I
stayed completely still under the covers.  I felt like what one of his
students must have felt like when they were about to be expelled.  My dad
is a big man and does talk with authority in his voice.  I had never really
done much to get on his bad side but I knew that I didn't really want to
know what being on his bad side really felt like.

   I thought he was going to interrogate me.  Find out who did this to me
so he could go and beat them up.  Tell me that I was a bad person. 
Anything I thought he would say was something bad, so I sat under the
covers with my knees up to my chin holding them with my arms.  He didn't
turn on the light and he didn't give me any speeches.  He sat down beside
me on the bed and sat there for a couple minutes.

   He put his arm around my shoulders and said in a kind and soft voice,
"Princess, it's ok.  I love you and you are the light of my life".

   With that he kissed me on the top of my head through my comforter and
left.  We never spoke about it past that.  I think my dad and I came to a
sort of understanding that I was growing up and I would have to learn
things for myself.  There was no beating up and there was no making me feel
bad.  He also relaxed on my dress code, not completely but he wasn't so
insistent anymore.

   A few weeks later my mom took me to the doctor to see if I was pregnant
but I had dodged yet another bullet.  After that the summer almost passed
in a haze.  I hooked up with the neighbor a couple more times but it wasn't
regular or anything and I made sure he put a condom on.  Soon enough I was
ready to go back to school to fend for myself once again.
   Mich