Carrie, Female, 15

	- Narrator, high school freshman

	- Beige, freckled skin, 5'4, 130lbs, curly back-length dark-red hair

Henri ('on-REE') LaBlount, Male, 23

	- Substitute Spanish teacher

	- Medium-brown skin, 5'4, 145lbs, short, straight black hair

The incident with Brown was my first sexual one with anyone other than myself, and despite how poorly it had gone, it would certainly not be my last. My next though, was as much a surprise as my night with Brown, and I'll tell you now about how it came about.

The morning after my painful night with Brown, I struggled to stand. I was sore, muscles felt weak, I was dehydrated. My dark sweatpants had caught most of what blood leaked out of my bikini, and I slowly emerged from my tent, finding no one else awake in the early hours.

I used the early start to slip off the sweatpants and slide into the water to wash myself. My white and black bikini had large, dark red circles, stains. I'd bled a lot that night, and there was no hiding it. Even the dark sweats had darker spots from the blood. I felt terrified of anyone seeing me, so I wrapped the towel around my waist, grabbed my things, and took off down the road to the convenience store where I called my mom to pick me up.

She asked me questions I wouldn't answer honestly, and she knew it. She asked if there was a boy I liked there, and I lied. If I'd had a fun night, I lied again. If I was feeling ok, and I lied there too. She gave up at some point, dealing with teenagers was never her best skill. Mom meant well, but I was a surly teen girl with emotions you could pull out and roast over a fire.

At home, I put my bloody bottoms, sweats, and the towel in the corner of my room and collapsed, fell quickly asleep, and tried to forget everything from the night before.

- - -

The next week Brown avoided me, even when I said 'hi' he grunted his response and moved on. I felt so ashamed. I'd been a bad lay, a bloody mess, a torn little girl that wasn't worth the effort to repair. I avoided the rest of the campers, as well, seeing their eyes on me, odd glances, whispers. None seemed to care much that I wasn't talking to them or joining them at lunch.

Another week went by before I first heard the term 'loose girl.' I was passing by a group of sophomores and freshman, some of whom I knew, including Brown. A younger dark-haired girl, Jini, laughed and looked my way briefly, then turned back to the circle. “... just a loose girl, we all know it...”

That's all I heard, and as any teen would, I knew they were talking about me. When the others laughed, I turned and tried my best not to cry. Later that day, my locker door featured a colorful drawing of what I assumed to be a stick figure me, with the bright green letters spelling out 'Loose Girl' over my head.

I had no idea who did it, still don't, almost didn't care. I was crushed deeply, so ashamed, so embarrassed. Everyone knew. Everyone knew that I'd had sex with Brown and that I'd been terrible. They all hated me, I could feel it. I hated them, too. All of them. I wanted to run away from everything, start again at some other school. I wanted to die.

I stayed home sick on Friday and locked myself in my room. My mom managed to coax me out for a meal a time or two, but otherwise, I kept to myself.

Sunday morning my Mom opened my door and woke me, sat on my bed, stroked my hair, asked, “Carrie, Sweetie... you feeling ok? It's almost noon. Thought you'd be over whatever this is by now.”

“Cramping.” I lied, knew my mom was clueless about my cycle. “Not up to doing anything right now, Mom.”

“Ok... I'll fix you some tea, always makes my cramps feel better.”

“K.”

I'd had no calls from the few people I considered friends in days. Even Belle, the one I'd have considered my closest, had sent me nothing so much as a 'hello'. I left her a short message, just wanted to talk, got no reply.

I sunk deeper into my misery. My vagina had hurt for a couple of days after the night with Brown, but even after it had healed, I hadn't masturbated. Probably a record for me. I usually rubbed one out every day, if not several. I had no energy for it, no arousal. I felt numb sexually. Broken, out of sync. Nothing that had happened since that night felt exciting, nothing turned me on.

I was in a bad place when I went back to school. Depressed, sinking in my self-doubt, my shame, my isolation. I wanted desperately to take back what I did, to undo it, but life taught me very quickly that there were no do-overs.

Monday morning started with English, then followed with Spanish. Our normal instructor was away at a conference, and our substitute looked barely older than the students. Henri LaBlount was a short, medium-brown skinned man that was barely older than me. His light slacks and white, colored shirt played nicely with his flesh, and for the first time in many days, I felt a stirring in my genitals.

Other than a momentary glance at his cute face, or his tight, slacks-covered butt, there was nothing else that day, or the next, and it began to wear off as my misery continued. I was sullen, felt drawn out and thin, rote memory keeping me from appearing worse to others.

Friday morning arrived and when I slid into Spanish class our normal instructor was there. My moments of lift provided by dreaming of Henri's attention were gone, replaced by monotonous instruction in a language I could barely understand.

At lunch, I went to the bathroom, passing by the window-paned offices. I saw Henri, briefly, talking with someone at a desk. I slipped into the bathroom, urinated, and wiped before exiting. Henri had just come out of the office and smiled at me, said, “well, see you, Carrie. Was nice learning with you this week.”

“Yeah... uh... yeah, thanks... see ya.”

He stared just a second too long into my eyes, and I found myself compelled to walk with him.

“I'll, uh... uh... I'll walk you down this way...”

“Don't you want to grab some lunch? Not much time left.”

“Nah. Not hungry. Walking does me good when I need to think...”

“Alright.” An awkward silence for several steps, then he rushed out with, “Say, do you know the term 'papi chulo?'

“Papi ch-chulo... no, no.”

“Means 'cute man' in Espanol. If you've got a boyfriend, that might make him smile.”

Looking back, it was a bit creepy, in some sense, but at the time, it was just confirmation that he was a kind man. I latched on. “Papi chulo... ok... Henri es papi chulo, like that?”

He smiled, blushed even with his dark skin, looked ahead of him rather than at me. “Uh... sure, yeah... like that. So, do you have a boyfriend?”

I shook my head, looked and felt sad. “Never... they all hate me.”

“I doubt that. You seem nice to me. What's holding you back?”

I don't know why I told him, but I did. “They call me 'Loose Girl.' I'm not... uh... I mean... it's not right. They won't stop and I hate it.”

“Loose Girl... uh, oh... wow... I'm sorry, Carrie, that's awful. Would you like me to go with you to talk to the principal?”

I was vehement. “No! No, please. No, I don't want this to get worse. I'll deal with it. Don't worry about me.”

He was silent a minute as we reached the door to the school. He paused, said nothing, seemed to be wondering if I'd turn back, or if I'd follow him.

I followed him through the door and to his car. He looked at me quietly as we walked. I wondered what I looked like to him. I knew I was pretty, but I was fifteen, too young for him to look at me that way. Whatever it was, when we got to his car, he asked if I wanted to leave with him.

I got in and sat still as he started the car. I don't know what went through Henri's head, but mine was filled with a determination to have sex with him. Suddenly, my repressed sexual feelings were boiling under my skin. I felt hot, swollen, I needed to feel his touch, to feel anyone's touch. I wanted Henri so bad I almost leaned in to kiss him as he put the car in drive.

I never considered his future, never thought that what we were doing was wrong. Oh, I suppose I knew it, of course, but I had no control over the way my head quashed those red flags and let my puss drive me on.

We didn't speak, didn't need or want to. What we were doing was understood, it took no more explanation. Henri pulled off down a long, abandoned road and stopped the car.

He looked at me a moment. I stared back. He said simply, “do you want this?”

At least he asked. I could just nod as I moved toward him and pressed my lips to his.

He was soft, warm, I let myself melt into his arms. He squeezed me lightly, but strongly, his arms around my back, rubbing me over my t-shirt. Henri was panting already as my hands slid down his sides. He paused, looked around, and opened his car door. He slid around to my side, opened my door, and turned my body to face him. He spread my legs, kissed my thighs, pushed my skirt up over my panties. I didn't resist, my puss burning with the need to be touched. I was wet, could feel the slickness in my panties.

Henri pulled them down and left them hanging on one ankle. He kissed up my leg and then became the first person to taste me down there. His tongue slid through my slit and I moaned uncontrollably. My hips rose to his mouth. He mumbled into my crotch, “mmm... oh... Carrie... mmm...” I moaned my response, felt his tongue dip into my puss, then twirled my clit.

I came hard on his tongue, bucking on the seat, letting my hands run through his hair. I washed in pleasure, could barely keep my eyes open as my breathing became deep and heavy. I next noticed him standing, his long, thin penis out of his slacks, his fingers rolling a condom over his brown length.

He leaned over me in the car, said quietly, “have you ever?”

“Yes. Only once.”

“Ok... I'll be gentle.”

I melted as his penis slid slowly inside of me. His licking and my arousal had made me very wet, and though he felt big, I took him easily inside. I groaned as he penetrated my vagina, my cunt giving him enormous pleasure. He leaned down, and we kissed as he began to slowly fuck my puss.

His body felt warm against me, not like Brown. His thrusts were smooth, easy, careful, simple in and out motions that quickly churned me to another orgasm. I came as he stared into my eyes.

I felt Henri grow stiff, his movements more jerky. He felt my tits through my shirt, humped me, humped me, grew stiffer. Henri clenched his jaw, groaned, grunted, and said, “I'm cumming... ohhhh... fuuuuuck... oh fuuuuuck... uuuuhhnn... uhnnnn... oh... Carrie... ohhh... fuuuck...”

I watched his eyes as he came inside the condom, his penis throbbing in my vagina. I loved it, loved everything about it, loved Henri. Everything that had been wrong with my night with Brown had been made right with Henri. His cock began to shrink, slowly, still throbbing in my vagina. I was so wet that when he pulled out, I felt slickness slide down over my anus.

I lay like that a moment, unable to close my legs. Henri looked at me, dropped to his knees, and ate my puss again. He wasn't trying to make me cum, just giving me a reminder that he'd been gentle, cared that I'd cum, cared that I'd given him such a treat.

He stood and offered me a hand, pulled me into his arms and kissed me a long time before I pulled up my panties and straightened my skirt. He'd long ago put away his penis, and I regretted not having it in my hand, in my mouth.

He settled me back in the car and we sat silent a moment before he said, “God, Carrie... that was amazing... Look... If anyone finds out... I... I'd go to prison.”

“I know. No one will find out. They already think I'm loose from one time... what would anyone say if they heard about this?” The look on his face still showed concern, so I said, “I won't tell anyone, Mr. LaBlount. Promise. I won't tell.”

“Ok... thank you for understanding, Carrie... and... when it's just us... please, call me Henri. It feels... not right... to be called Mr. LaBlount after sharing that with you.”

“Ok, Henri.” I did my best to make it sound Spanish, but I think it was pretty far off the mark.

He started the car, said, “I think you're probably missed from school by now... what do you want to do.”

“Take me back there. I'll tell them I had cramps and stayed in the bathroom. Works every time.”

“Ok...” He drove back toward the school, one hand on my knee. “Would you like to do that again, sometime, Carrie?”

I didn't have to know I was in love with him to answer, “yes.”

“We have to be careful, ok? No one can know. I'll be put in prison.”

“I know how to be careful, Henri. How about next friday night? I can get away easily enough.”

“Great... yeah, I want to see you again. Friday would be great. Maybe... maybe somewhere we can take our time, somewhere other than a car.”

I smiled, my teen body recharged, my thighs parting slightly as I imagined what might happen in a few days with Henri.

He dropped me near the side entrance to avoid being seen, and since that one is kept locked, I had to carefully make my way around to the gym door to sneak in. I fixed my hair in the bathroom, then did my best to look miserable.

I wasn't miserable any more. I felt alive, loved, so wonderful. I knew I was in love with Henri. He'd been everything I needed at the right time. He cared that I'd cum! He went slow. He asked if I wanted him. The hurts caused by Brown disappeared in a few powerful moments on an abandoned road. Henri's penis had felt perfect inside me, filled me, stretched me, but didn't hurt.

My body was vibrating as I went to the office to explain why I'd missed a class. I held my mock frown and kept a hand on my stomach as I asked to be released from the rest of the day. The man behind the desk looked horrified when I told him I was having menstrual cramps and already bled through two pads.

He got my absences approved and I called my mother to pick me up. She wasn't happy when I forgot to be miserable and had a smile on my face when I got in the car. Still, she asked more questions and I lied to her in reply to most of them, and I spent a Friday night in my room, masturbating, remembering every detail of Henri's touches, his kisses, his lips, and his thrusts.