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.