What She's Really Like By s19000 Chapter 1 (F solo) Jill Miller was in a bar with some of her college girlfriends when she heard the voice of a woman coming from the booth behind her. "He treated me like an object," the woman's voice said, and Jill was surprised to find she wanted to hear more. She felt a jolt of excitement when the woman said, "He called me a cunt, and it made me so hot." A different female voice asked, "Did you fuck?" "God, yes, right on the floor. He just used me, and I came and came." Jill shook herself. She was anxious and uneasy with her normal college life, and the excitement she felt from listening to the woman was a new sensation for her. A man had called the woman a cunt, and the woman had fucked. Jill wondered how any woman could be like that. But the woman's words kept running through her head, and as she thought about them, it gradually began to seem to Jill that she wasn't really so different from the woman, after all. The man had wanted something, and the woman had let herself be used. People always wanted things from Jill, too. Her parents wanted her to be a good daughter, her professors wanted her to be a good student, and her friends wanted her to be a good person. Jill realized she was spending her life trying to be what other people wanted her to be. Wasn't she just letting herself be used when she tried so hard to fulfill those expectations? And what was she getting in return? She certainly wasn't enjoying it like the woman had. Jill said goodbye to her friends and left the restaurant. While she walked home, she decided the woman was probably a nasty person. Jill wondered what it would be like to be nasty. Could she be that way? And if she was, would she like it? When she reached her apartment, Jill locked the door and went straight to her full-length mirror. Looking at herself, she thought that she didn't look nasty at all, dressed as she was in jeans and a plain top. She ran her hands over her small breasts, and watched herself in the mirror as she did it. It was the first time she had done such a thing, and while she knew it wasn't very nasty, she found she liked the way it made her feel. Jill remembered how it excited her when the woman said "cunt" at the restaurant. Maybe thinking about herself in a nasty way would make her feel more excited. She squeezed her breasts and tried to think nasty things about them. She never called them tits, but as she pressed and rolled her breasts around, she made herself think that she wanted someone to play with her tits. The thought made her feel excited again, like she had been at the restaurant. She pinched one of her nipples, and it felt good. She put a hand between her legs, but then she stopped herself. She masturbated often, but it was just a physical act for her. She thought of how the woman from the restaurant got hot because she was being used. The woman had felt nasty in her mind, not just excited in her body. Jill had never felt like that, but suddenly she wanted to. She didn't just want to do herself, she wanted to fuck herself. She pulled down her jeans and stepped out of them, exposing white cotton panties. Then she took her top off, revealing a plain white bra. It was the kind she always wore, but she was sure the woman at the restaurant didn't wear sensible underwear, and now she didn't want to be the kind of person who wore white cotton panties. As she looked at her underwear in the mirror, Jill wondered how it would feel to fuck a man who just wanted physical satisfaction, and nothing else. He would probably feel me up, she thought, to see what he was getting. She moved her hands over her tits and her ass, and then between her legs, feeling herself up. She thought about being on the floor, legs spread, waiting for the man. He would put his fingers inside me first, she thought. She stiffened her fingers and shoved her panties up inside her, squirming. She wondered if the man fucked the woman's mouth before he fucked her cunt. Yes, she thought, he probably took everything he could. How did he do it? Did he hold her head in his hands and fuck her mouth while he stood? Or did he move up her body while she was on the floor, and fuck his cock down into her mouth like it was a pussy in her face? Jill looked at her own mouth in the mirror. What would it be like to be fucked there? What would make a man want to do it? She went to her dresser, opened the top drawer, and found a bright red lipstick in the back. A friend had given it to her, but she had never used it, because the color had seemed too slutty. She took it back to the mirror. She watched herself roll out the stick of color and apply it. She had never sucked a cock, and she wondered if the pressure and pull of the lipstick as it slid around her lips was how a cock would feel when a man rubbed it over her mouth before fucking it. She worked her lips, smoothing and spreading the color, but it didn't seem like enough. She applied a second layer and let the color spread beyond her lips, making them seem large and wet. When she finished, she pursed her mouth to make a red circle in the middle of her face. Now it looks like it wants to be fucked, she thought, and felt faint with nasty excitement. The feeling was intense, and it made her want to masturbate even more, but once again she held herself back. She wanted to keep making herself more excited, because she wanted to find out where she would end up. She spread her legs and looked at her panty-covered crotch in the mirror. The cotton panties covered her completely. When the woman from the restaurant got fucked, Jill thought, the man had fucked a cunt. Jill had never thought of herself as having a cunt. She allowed herself to run a finger up her panties, watching herself do it. It's exciting to have a cunt, she thought. Why didn't I realize that? She couldn't keep herself from masturbating any longer. She rubbed herself through the panties. I'm playing with my cunt, she thought, and the thought made playing with herself feel better than it ever had before. The man called the woman in the restaurant a cunt, and Jill wondered how that would feel. Was she nasty enough to be called a cunt? She stopped rubbing and looked at herself again. Her nipples poked at the fabric of her bra, and a wet spot showed on her panties. Jill stepped closer to the mirror. What if someone called me a cunt, she wondered, and I knew it was the truth? Would I like that? She pressed her body against the mirror and placed her hands on either side of the reflection of her face. She bent her head forward until the heat of her breath fogged the glass. She looked into her eyes and imagined she was a cunt. She kissed the reflection of her lips. At last I'm really being nasty, she thought, and I like the feeling. Have I been pretending about myself all my life? If I have, what have I been covering up? I want to know. She studied her face in the mirror, wondering if she had just kissed the face of a cunt. Her thoughts and actions were making her more and more excited. Jill stepped back from the mirror and took off her bra. She rubbed the edge of the bra against her nipples, and the stiff nubs bent and popped back up, erect. She dropped the bra and squeezed her nipples with her fingers. Turning sideways so she could see, she pulled her nipples away from her chest, stretching her breasts out as far as she could. Then she released her nipples, and her breasts fell back, sagging slightly on her chest. They used to be firm, she thought, and I was proud of them. But now I like the way they sag, even if they're not perfect. They're tits, and tits should sag. She watched herself lift her tits up and let them drop back. Then she flicked one of her erect nipples with her finger. The sensation jolted her, and she did it again. A new thought bubbled up inside her. If I was a cunt, she thought, my body wouldn't have to be perfect, as long as it had holes. Jill was shocked at how she was thinking about herself. In the short time since she had heard the woman at the restaurant, her own thoughts had become so nasty. But she was more excited than she had ever been. How would it feel, she wondered, to give in completely to these new thoughts and feelings? She felt like the person in the mirror, with small breasts, erect nipples, and panties that showed a spreading wet spot, was a stranger. A stranger filled with unfamiliar desires who lived in a world Jill had never entered, even in her imagination. Jill thought that if she let herself go, she might become that stranger and never come back to be the person she had always been. The thought scared her at first, but then it began to excite her, as she realized she wanted her nasty feelings to grow and grow. She wanted her desires to control how she felt and what she did, and she didn't care if she never came back. Jill found it unbearably exciting that she might not be the good girl of her past. She took off her panties and spread her legs. She ran her hands up and down her stomach and over the inside of her thighs. She made circles around her cunt, but didn't touch it. What about other people, she thought. What would they think if I was nasty instead of good? I know it would be would more exciting if they knew. She remembered the boy who took her to his room during her freshman year. He was so considerate, she thought. He didn't fuck me, he made love to me. He even turned out the light, because he thought I was such a good girl I wouldn't want to see what we were doing. And he was right. But the whole thing wasn't very exciting. I didn't get hot, like I am now, hot and nasty like the woman in the restaurant. A man called her a cunt, and she fucked. I want to be called a cunt, Jill thought. She pointed at her naked body in the mirror, and her reflection pointed back. Jill spoke, and it seemed like her reflection was talking to her. "You're a cunt," her reflection said, pointing at Jill, and Jill wanted to hear it again. "You're a cunt," said her reflection. "You're a cunt." Jill could feel herself changing, and she wanted to be the new thing she was becoming. Someday, she thought, someone will really call me a cunt, and when it happens I want it to be true. I want my name and the word "cunt" to mean the same thing. She whispered softly, watching her red lips move in the mirror, "Jill Miller is a cunt." She had always prided herself on her intelligence, and she had identified herself by what her mind could accomplish. But now she thought, if I'm a cunt, the most important part of me isn't my mind. My most important parts are the empty holes in my body, because those are the parts that people can fuck. She fingered her cunt. And this is the most important part of all, she thought. She pushed a finger in. I want to take care of my cunt, and that means I should do what it wants. Right now it wants me to make it feel good. She watched herself play with her cunt, and it seemed like she was looking at her real self in the mirror, a self in which there was no difference between her cunt and the rest of her. She said out loud, "Jill Miller is a cunt." She fucked her cunt with her hand, and she felt herself falling into a place full of writhing, squirming sensation. She wanted to be there, and she wanted to stay there for the rest of her life. She fucked herself harder. Say it again, she thought. Say it so loud people will hear. Then I won't be able to deny it. She took a deep breath and yelled as loud as she could, "Jill Miller is a cunt!" Her voice rang in her ears and the words left her throat was raw, as though her scream had torn her old self away. Tension and anxiety drained from her body, and for a moment she felt completely calm. She saw that her fingers were still inside her cunt. Inside myself, she thought. My cunt is myself. The nastiness rose up inside her, and she knew what she wanted to do. She began to move her hand, fucking herself. She kept her eyes fixed on what she was doing. This was no momentary sexual relief, done without thinking. This was no secret activity, under the covers in the dark, soon to be forgotten. This was a deliberate conscious action, done only to make her cunt feel good. I'm going to cum, she thought, and I want to see myself do it. As her cum approached, she looked at her face in the mirror, and for a moment she didn't recognize herself. Then she realized that the old Jill Miller was gone. She watched herself cum, and her feelings overwhelmed her. She began to cry, and she fell to her knees. She gathered up wetness from her cunt and smeared the moisture over her body. She repeatedly thrust her fingers in, and used her cunt juice to cover her face, her tits, her arms, her stomach, her thighs, her ass. She baptized herself, washing her old life away in a flood of feeling, nastiness, and desire. She wanted to cum again, and she rose up on her knees so she could see herself do it. In the mirror she saw one of her hands fucking her cunt and the other pinching and pulling at her nipples. She saw her hair matted against her face and her tongue flicking out over her smeared lipstick. She saw her open, hungry mouth. This isn't a stranger, she thought, this is me. It's me. It's me. She came again and collapsed on the floor. She cried and cried, sobbing out loud because the feeling of relief was so great. She was no longer a stranger to herself. When she finally stopped crying, she looked up to see her smeared body in the mirror. She was on the floor, just like the woman from the restaurant. She rolled to her stomach and watched herself arch her back and lift her hips, shoulders pressed down. She thought that maybe the woman from the restaurant had been like that when she was fucked. Then Jill Miller wondered why it had taken her so long to find out what she was really like.