I crept quietly into her room. In one hand I had my bag of supplies. Rape kit, puritanical police minds, would call it. Just the necessary stuff, cuffs, condoms, gag, tape and of course scarves that were long enough to be used for rope. In my right hand I held a tazer. Mostly there for show. But who knows if the situation calls for it I may be using the pretty little device. Don't you love those blue arcs. Not only for aesthetics but for what they can give you..... power, pure and simple.
I should explain how I got here so you understand. Please bare with me. You should understand why I am standing in this beautiful coeds room, about to do what I am here for. I promise the story will be worth the wait. After all, it will only be a couple of pages worth of my boring life story.....
INTRO
I never write first-person. Especially when I write one of these erotic or semi-erotic series. When a person writes first-person, something of the story is lost. First person can only give you one point of view. Sure, a person can say they saw this such expression or felt that the person was feeling this or that but in the end it cannot deeply express more than one point of view. In my opinion, that is far to limiting for such a dynamic medium we have before us here.
However as this story comes from my past. I figured I would give my singular point of view. And hopefully give accurate supposition of others emotions. Please keep in mind that this was ten years ago and even though I was a writer than, I was also a teenager and therefore far too self absorbed to be deftly aware of others. I will be inventive here and there where my memories are thin. I will try to be scrupulous when I represent myself. Nonetheless my representation of others may be faulty and vainglorious. The conversations I recreate will be accurate in spirit but I am sure far from accurate in verbosity.
ALL Characters in this story are at least 18 years old or more at the time they are having sex.
CHAPTER ONE
I can definitively say my early childhood formed my personality. My mothers family though not white lived in a white mans world. Love, acceptance, money and comfort. Well moderate comfort compared to my fathers family. My father was an abusive alcoholic poor bastard along with most of his relatives. Thankfully my mother was done with him before I was ten years old. However he did influence my personality much to my detriment. Not that any of my poor choices where his fault in the least. As they were exactly that.... MY poor choices.
Later as a teenager I made the bad decision to hang out with gangs. Fortunately for me my best friend was a rather important DJ. Everybody wanted him at their house parties. Because of his notoriety I got the very rare advantage of hanging out with a multitude of gangs. People don't get to cross lines with immunity. My DJ friend did because they respected his skill on the tables. I was allowed some of that immunity up to a point. I was still tested, I.E. Beaten the hell out of on a irregular basis. I learned to fight and I learned to be mean.
I explain this part of my past so you understand that at a very young age I was not truly a peer amongst people my age. From about the age of twelve years old to almost seventeen I was constantly around gang members. I wont go into the details of the things I did during that time, I will just tell you that if you come out of that life you have no innocence.
But one day my mother, you remember her? She lived in what I think of as a "white" world. I don't mean that to sound derogatory. Trust me, in this context it's quite a beautiful thing. People in that world still have that bubble that surrounds them. Protects them from the truth of humanity. Well, my mother, one day finds out some of the things that I had been involved in.
You have to understand that this was quite a huge shock for her. Remember those two drastically different worlds I grew up in? Well they taught me to separate my two lives. One I was a wanna be little dangerous punk teenager. The other I earned A's and later 4.0 GPA with all college level classes with ease. Kind of like the prince and the punk. Neither were the real me, however I displayed one or the other depending on my environment. Hell I even believed I was one or the other depending on that environment. It's called compartmentalizing. Has to do with the mental and physical abuse of that alcoholic father I told you about. Ask any college psych major. Any one of those idiots in the 101 class just loves to wrongly analyze, theorize and diagnose. Of course the compartmentalizing may come from higher level studies. Maybe abnormal physic. Not too sure where I picked up that little tidbit of information when I was studying myself.
So my Mother comes to me with some relevant facts about my other life. As she is standing there quietly crying she asks me to never "go with that crowd again". It is the first time I ever remember making my mother cry. And I DAMN SURE was never gonna consciously do that again. So I found myself searching for new friends.
But like I said that kind of life ages you. I could not comfortably fit in with kids my own age. But I was fortunate to look older than my teen self. Old enough sometimes to even drink without the false id I had. Well, not truly false. I had mugged a guy that looked enough like me so I could take his id for such endeavors.
So I did the only thing I felt open to me. I looked at all of my older brothers friends. Found some, two brothers in particular that I liked and began hanging out with them. I remember about that same time Paul, my brother, began seeing a girl from a whole other world from his friends. So nearly as soon as I joined his little clique he left it. Of course he and that girl, quite a catch too, did not work out because the fool was literally seduced by a conniving cunt that just wanted to get pregnant and have a baby so she could be a mother. And so my brother lost what I used to think of as a wonderful girl for a life filled with pain.
These two brothers that I latched on to first. To say that they had money would be like saying Bill Gates is well to do. Their parents owned a condominiums/apartment community within a few short miles to a major college in a vast city. It's just a guess but I think there were well over two-hundred units in the gated community. Two of which George and Nick were allowed to occupy with as many friends as they liked, so long as they stayed in college. Those units where connected by a huge and I am sure illegal whole in the wall between the two kitchens. Most of the places where rented by students, or groups of students. I tell you this so you understand. George and Nick pretty much had a round the clock party house. Oh, it was not jumping twenty-four hours a day, but at any given time you would find people coming and going. On the weekends you would often find naked and or drunk people laid out the day after.
It was one of the best places in the world to be as a teenager. Very few people knew I was in high school. George and Nick did of course, after all they knew my brother. George had an on-again-off-again girlfriend that I also came to know. You see she was the cause of a lot of my story. Maybe cause is to implementary. Let's better say she was the genesis of my story.
You see this party house was kinda known for it's sexploits. It was owned by two horny college guys, in a college community. And they had a near limitless supply of alcohol, more chronic than in a cheech and chong wet dream and quite a bit of coke. So the end result was a tremendous amount of sex going on.
But like I said I was only a high school teenager. I had a grand total of two sexual experiences. Both of which can easily be described as an embarrassing episode in my life. I was intimidated. I sure the hell did not want to get a reputation around those people for being a sexual failure. Especially after having first hand, and I mean first hand visual, knowledge that some of those guys where quite well off with women and sex.
If George and Nick were the indisputable rulers of that place than the alpha woman of that house was by far George's on-again-off-again girlfriend, Lisa. I remember her being almost plain compared to a lot of the other women around. Certainly not unattractive, just not glowingly sexy. Of course I was a teenage boy surrounded often by sexy coed naked or nearly naked bodies. And Lisa was never one to throw off her top or have sex out in the open like plenty of the other girls were. Looking back I think it was more an innate self-value she had than any thing else. She was always very confident. And she DID have a tendency to talk rather openly about sex. She just never performed like some of the girls coming and going.
