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Part Two: From prom star to porn star
In the way she wasn't born a slut, a whore, or thought to be addicted to sex, Liz wasn't always a porn star. Yet, early on, from the first time she had sex, being that she not only enjoyed having sex but also was good at giving and receiving sex, she was, indeed, seemingly addicted to sex. For someone so young, so innocent, she was mature beyond her years. Right from the first time she had sex as a virgin, she had no mysteries, expectations, and preconceived notions about sex.
Sex, sex, and more sex, it wasn't about love. Sex, sex, and more sex, it wasn't about having a baby. Sex, sex, and more sex, it wasn't about having a serious relationship. It was just sex. She didn't put the pressure and the guilt on her lover that most women her age did. Other than having him fulfill her sexual needs, she didn't need him for anything else. Seemingly done with men until she needed a cock for sex, there were plenty of women who satisfied her sexual needs.
If there was any clue to what she'd do later in life or what she did in another life in the past, it was her lustfulness. As if she lived before as the Queen of the Nile with male and female slaves taking care of her every sexual need and whimsy, she always believed that this wasn't her first life or her last. Always horny, Liz masturbated as much as any man while thinking of not only having sex with naked men but also fantasizing of having sex with naked women too.
Surprisingly enough, a virgin when she attended her prom at 18-years-old back in 1971, she didn't discover sex, her passion, and her career as a porn star until she had sex in the backseat of a brand new, white, Plymouth Fury with a black vinyl roof and black vinyl seats. With all of her friends already having sex during their days in high school, in comparison, Liz was bit of a late bloomer. Yet, once she had sex, a quick study, she caught up and sexually surpassed all of her friends.
Back then, a time of innocence, with Vietnam still languishing on, Tom Jones assured her that she wasn't a slut or a whore by crooning, 'She's a Lady,' over the car radio as her prom date desperately groped her big breasts through her pale blue, prom dress while kissing her.
"John. Wait. Stop! Don't. Geez. Oh, my God," said Liz fighting off John's seemingly eight hands and forty fingers. "Let go of me. You're hurting me. You're going to rip my dress."
Not taking no for an answer, John continued his sexual assault of her.
"You have such big tits, Liz. My first time feeling tits and fingering nipples, I've never felt a woman's breasts before," he said looking at her as if she was his kidnapped hostage. And for a while, stuck in the backseat of his car with him while parked by the side of the road, she was his hostage.
John reached out his horny hands to feel Liz's breasts through her prom dress while trying to stick his hand inside of her top. Feeling her naked breasts, he tried to finger her nipples. Only, with her breasts so big, the top of her dress was too tight for him to get his hand in there too.
"Jesus. Stop! Stop sticking your hand down my dress and don't you dare stick your hand up my dress. I mean it or I'll smack you one," she said sitting up in her seat, fluffing down her dress, and pulling up the top of her dress to cover the tops of her big breasts and her long, sexy line of cleavage.
Inherently knowing what needed her immediate attention, she put a practiced hand to fix her hair to assure that every strand was in place. Then, she opened her purse, pulled out her compact mirror and lipstick to paint a thick, wide coat of red across her full lips. As if he wasn't even there, as if he had disappeared in thin air, she ignored him while he watched her paint her lips.
If he was thinking anything, no doubt John was thinking lipstick on his dipstick but with him never having a hand job, never mind a blowjob, someone who looked like Liz, so beautiful and so stacked, she'd never have sex with him. Assuring herself of what she was going to do next by taking sexual matters in her own hand, she looked at herself in her mirror. Her date was so horny and lucky for him, she was feeling frisky too.
Not a prude, a tease, or out to ruin her 19-year-old date's fun, but her first time with a man, Liz didn't want her first time having sex to be ruined by her date being so awkwardly frantic, sexually clumsy, and romantically uninspired. Something that most woman can't do, won't do, or are unable to do by exerting their forceful will upon a man, especially at that young, sexually inexperienced, virginal age, as if she already has had sex, Liz decided to take control of the sexual situation. Inspired by Santana singing, "Black Magic Woman," on the car radio, indeed, she was going to show John some magic tonight.
While her date, a pimple faced boy of a man, who was about to get lucky, was desperately trying to stuff his hand down the top of her dress to feel her big, shapely, and firm C cup breasts, Liz had other, more sexually satisfying plans. As if asking a dog if he wanted a cookie, she decided to do a simple thing to get his attention and to quell all of the lunacy of wrestling with him. Immediately, he stopped his inept and horny foolishness when she put her hand in his lap and felt his emerging, throbbing, and pulsating erection through his pants. As if opening a window in space and time, giving each a first time memory they'll never forget, slowly and methodically, she unzipped his pants.
"Zippppp!"
As if the sound of his zipper going down was on loudspeaker, the distinctive sound of John's zipper slowly and purposely going down, down, down, immediately made him stop groping her. Obviously something that's never happened to him before, just as she's never done this before, she was the first woman to pull down his zipper for the purposes of sex.
Sex. Sex, sex, sex. They were about to have sex. The first time for the both of them. With no parents and/or teachers telling them what to do and what not to do, they were about to have sex.
Only, instead of the consensual sex being John's horny, willy-nilly decision, Liz wanted her first time to be her sexually, purposeful decision. Tired of men controlling what she does, when she does it, and even what she thinks, this was her body and no one was going to pressure her into doing anything that she didn't want to do or was yet ready to do. For sure, she would have preferred her first time being someplace more romantic, of course, a hotel room or a blanket laid out on the beach instead of the backseat of a dark, cramped car. Only, with her far more sexually horny than lovingly romantic, as far as she was concerned, spur of the moment spontaneity was always better than something that was preplanned well in advance.
Even though she was a virgin, if only for the sake of telling her friends that she's no longer a virgin, she'd rather have a quickie in the backseat of a car than to have planned sex that was fraught with high expectations and disappointment. With her thinking more of having an orgasm than in falling in love with not so much of a Prince Charming, she was more realistic in her sexual and emotional wants, needs, and desires than were her friends. With her controlling the sexual intimacy, she'd have no one to blame but herself if her first time having sex didn't go as expected. It would have been much worse if she had planned this first time instead of allowing it to naturally happen as it should. Satisfied with taking whatever was given her, she'd rather have sex now than later when alone in her room with her fingers buried inside of her pussy while pinching her nipples.
Now that she was here with someone, oddly enough who could have been anyone as long as he had a dick, she was ready. Sex, sex, sex, it was time she found out what the big deal was about sex. Sex, sex, sex, it was time that she was no longer an immature virgin. It was time she left her little girl ideals and morals behind and blossomed into a woman. It was time that she made the most of this horrible date with someone that she really didn't even like.
Yet, with all of the expense, she felt obligated to put out and give him something back in return. Just as she wanted a special night, she knew that he wanted a special night too. He did ask her to his prom and, with no one else asking her, she accepted his invitation. With her one of the last virgins left in her high school, most of the hot men knew they'd have a much better sexual time with a hot, blonde cheerleader, a plain looking clarinet player, or a wide open legged cello player from the band than they'd have with her.
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