Carrie, Female, 15

	- Narrator, high school freshman

	- Beige, freckled skin, 5'4, 135lbs, 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

If you've read this far, I don't need to tell you things didn't end well with Henri. No, he was never arrested, I never got pregnant, and for several years, I'm pretty sure he and I were the only ones who knew.

After our long night together, Henri woke the next morning with a different approach to our relationship. He didn't tell me anything had changed, but I felt it. There was no kiss as he rose, no soft hands over my body, he didn't even tell me 'good morning' until I said it first. He averted his gaze at times, just enough for me to know something had changed. I couldn't read his expression, but it wasn't the kind lover I'd known the previous day.

He fixed me a quick breakfast and then insisted on driving me home immediately. On the ride home, I asked him, “everything Ok, Henri? With us? When can I see you again?”

He hesitated, lied, said, “sure, all ok, Honey. Just great. Uh... Yeah, we're great. I don't know... uh... maybe in a couple of weeks... maybe then... gonna be busy, really...”

I felt crushed. I wouldn't see my love, my lover, for a couple of weeks? That was an eternity to someone who had fallen so deeply into the relationship, who needed the reassurances that came with seeing Henri. I mumbled, “oh... k.”

“Yeah... uh... maybe then... Look, Carrie... You know I like you a lot... but... we gotta be careful, ok? We can't do what we did last night, not again. I'm scared to death right now that I've gotten you pregnant. Scared that you'll tell someone. Scared that I'll be put in prison. That's what they'll do, you know? Put me in prison. Can you believe that?”

I didn't reply, the swirling emotions in my head left me feeling thick. I hated what he said. I'd already told him I wouldn't tell anyone, and I meant it... as much as any fifteen-year old girl could. I felt like he didn't trust me, that he was worried for nothing.

He continued when I didn't speak. “They will. They'll put me in prison if you tell. They will. Don't tell anyone, Ok? Please, don't tell anyone.”

“I already promised you that. I promised to not tell anyone, ok? I won't. I'm not stupid.”

He leaned back in his seat as he drove, then said quietly, “if you get pregnant... I... uh... what will you do?”

Like I had any fucking clue what I would do. “I dunno.”

“Find out first, ok? I'll give you cash, buy a couple of tests, ok? Follow the directions... and when you find out, either way, tell me first, ok? I... We'll have to figure something out, ok?”

I know now that 'figure something out' meant find a way for me to have an abortion without my parents finding out. Then, I just worried that I'd destroyed my life by letting my lover cum inside me. I managed a weak “ok” just before he dropped me off outside my neighborhood.

He said nothing as I opened the door and stepped out. I took a deep breath, reached for the door to close it behind me.

Henri called out, “Carrie... I'm sorry.”

And that was all.

'I'm sorry!?' What the hell was that? Sorry for what? I'd had a fantastic night with him, scary moments aside. It was a life-changing night with the man I loved, how could he be sorry for that? How could he apologize for being the first man to bring me to orgasm, the first man to fuck me so that I could enjoy it, the first person to taste my pussy, the first man to cum inside me? What on Earth was he sorry for?

That morning, I couldn't think of those responses. Only after a few days of reflection later in my life would those unspoken replies become regrets. I closed the door and started walking home. Henri sat in the car as I strolled away, eventually I heard the vehicle rev and move off and away.

It was a long walk home. The emotional confusion, not the distance. I walked slowly, my mind turning over in chaos, powerful feelings of love and hurt tore at me. He was sorry, and I didn't know why. I felt betrayed after he repeated his pleas to not tell anyone, felt horrified that he thought saying sorry was the last thing he should say to me after such a night. It had been so high and so low and then high again, I wanted to walk home on a high, but what I felt was a low.

My parents were out of the house when I came in, and I was thankful for that. I locked myself inside my room and cried for no reason and all reasons. It hurt to love Henri. I didn't know why.

- - -

It would be four very long weeks before I heard from him again. I called his number several times and got his voicemail. I didn't leave a message, just as he'd asked the first time he gave me his number. I got only his voice, in a generic greeting that did nothing to calm my nervous stomach, though toward the end of those four weeks, I started to look forward to the twenty-eight word message. Yes, I counted. I had nothing else from my lover, and sometimes I called just to hear his recorded voice.

I'd taken two pregnancy tests and both came back negative. I was dying to share the good news with him, and I felt hollow without him knowing.

I didn't know where things stood. I loved him, desperately, and looking back, I find that I have no shame over those feelings. I didn't know better, and I reacted to a man who seemed to love me, who touched me gently, who made me cum. I loved him, and for those long weeks, it only grew stronger from missing him.

School was horrible for me. My closest friends no longer hung around me or waited for me after school. The 'Loose Girl' was a pariah without direction, and I hated being around my fellow classmates. I became very withdrawn, more so to my family. My mom tried to get me to talk, but how could I tell her what I was going through? She surely believed I was a virgin, and talking to her about Henri was out of the question.

So I muddled through my life, barely getting by emotionally, my grades passable but falling. I began to hate myself, thought I'd driven Henri and my friends away. Not thought, knew I had. No one cared, not even my parents, not that I acknowledged, at any rate. I didn't masturbate, I didn't let go of my fairy tale lover coming to take me with him somewhere safe and pleasant.

I had my own phone line in the house, a blessing that I never failed to value. It rang on a Saturday afternoon, waking me from another depressive nap. I'd put on weight over that time, could feel it in my stomach. My boobs had swelled, which wasn't a bad thing, but the extra pounds left me feeling very sorry for myself, wondering if any man would ever find me attractive.

Henri's voice soothed my heartache and my self-doubt in just a few words. “Hey, Carrie... Good to hear your voice.”

I melted, shook a bit in excitement to hear from my love. I knew he'd call when he could. I excused him without a word for whatever had kept him from my life. The sound of his voice threw water on that fire. “Henri... oh, Henri... thanks for calling... I've missed you so much.”

“I know, Hon... I know... I've missed you too. Just... just couldn't risk it lately. I've.. I've had someone staying with me for a few weeks... couldn't risk it... But they're gone now... and... can you get away for a little bit tonight? I'd love to see you.”

“Yes. For sure. What time?”

“Seven? Same place?”

“I'll be there.”

I left my parents a note that I'd be gone for a few hours. They were away at some church function, the sort I tried to avoid. I left my house early and leaned against a tree to wait the long minutes until my lover arrived.

Henri pulled up a few minutes early, and I climbed in. I wanted to kiss him, but something about his posture made me pause. He was pleasant but not warm, himself but not my lover, not in the way his face offered a friendly smile but not an intimate one. I sat quietly as he drove, confused about how much I'd wanted to see him again, and how he wasn't the same person I'd been with a month before.

He drove us to a small park. No other cars were in the parking lot, and he led me down a path to a where a small, wooden bench was nestled into the treeline. He looked up and down the trail, a clear view of the parking lot would give us warning of anyone before we got caught.

Henri pulled me to him for a kiss, and for a while, I forgot the distance I'd felt in the car. It seemed to me that we sank back into the love, the gentle touches that we'd known weeks before. His hands fondled my breasts, he seemed not to notice my extra pounds, and I silently thanked him and grew moist.

He pushed me down onto my knees and unzipped his fly, pulled his half-hard penis out. I ran my lips along his shaft, then sucked him into my mouth. He groaned in pleasure as I blew him, loved all over again the taste of my lover's dick. He smelled soapy and salty, but his flesh was clean, meaty, wonderful on my tongue.

A few minutes of bobbing my head were followed by him pulling me back up, turning me around, and bending me over the bench. I'd worn a skirt, and in moments he had the hem up over my ass and my panties around my knees. Henri licked my puss, my wetness growing as he did so. I started to feel a slow burn building inside me, centered on my clit and on my cunt.

Before I could cum, he rose up, slipped a condom over his cock, and penetrated my little hole. After so long without his dick or my fingers inside, my vagina took a moment to stretch around him. He slid in slowly, let my opening spread to allow his length to slide deeper. I felt so full when his balls bounced against my clit. Henri paused just a moment before starting to fuck me.

Henri held my waist as he humped me, quiet grunts coming from his lips. I panted, let my legs open wide, allowed him to fuck me as deep as he wanted. His balls slapped my clit in a rhythm that had me buzzing and tensing.

He cried out and jerked against my ass. His cock swelled in my tight vagina, and I felt him ejaculate into his condom. I held still, let him finish in small, quick thrusts. I was out of breath and very aroused as he pulled out and sank back on his ankles.

I slowly stood, not quite sure what to do next. I thought he was going to lick me again, at least kiss me, when he took a step in my direction, then said, “we should get going. Don't want to get caught.”

That was it. Here I was, a horny fifteen-year old girl in love with Henri, my pussy dripping, ready to cum. It wouldn't have taken much, just ten seconds of his tongue or fingers. Hell, with my fingers, I could've cum in five. But he turned away, walking quickly back to the car.

I stood there stunned. What the fuck just happened? I was confused, angry, hurt. My panties were still at my knees, my skirt rumpled around my body, my puss exposed to the chilly air. He left me like that, can you believe it? It was muscle memory that pulled up my panties and fixed my skirt. Muscle memory that propelled my shaky legs forward and got me to the car. Nothing had prepared me for feeling like that, and before he could drive off, I felt very nauseous.

“Wait... wait...”

Henri looked at me, took his hand off the gear shift. I opened the door and leaned out, dry heaved. He did nothing but watch. I managed to step out and squat near the bushes. I heaved, felt dizzy, got down on my hands and knees. Everything came up then, and for several minutes I was sick. Henri finally walked over to me near the end, offered me a towel to wipe my face.

I was terribly embarrassed for him to see me throw up. Felt so low about myself then, didn't know what the hell had just happened. I felt sick over Henri, realizing that he'd simply used me for a fuck, the knowledge filling me with shame and sadness.

I was able to get back in the car, weak, sad. Henri asked quietly, “are you pregnant, Carrie? Is it... is it mine?”

I looked at him with disgust on my face, disgust for myself, disgust for him, said, “No... I'm not... I tried to call you for weeks to tell you... you never answered.” He didn't reply or show any other response to my words.

Henri soon had me back at the dropoff spot, nothing more being said between us. As I opened my car door, I felt the need to ask, “do you hate me, Henri?”

He was silent just a second too long for my emotions, but said, “no, of course not, Hon... why would you think that?”

I couldn't put it into words. “I dunno... just askin'.”

“Go get some sleep, you'll feel better later. Call you, ok?”

“Ok...”

He drove off and I tried to collect myself. Mom and Dad were home, having dinner, invited me to join them, asked where I'd been. I turned down dinner, and mumbled “with a friend” as I went to my room and didn't come out til late the next day.

- - -

It was another two weeks before I heard from Henri again, and just like the last time, he drove me to the park, licked me a moment, then fucked my vagina until he came in his condom. I didn't orgasm.

I'd hoped that time would be different, that the last had been an aberration, a misunderstanding. As he filled his condom inside me, I knew it was the same old shit. The same bullshit booty call that he'd gotten from me the last time.

When he called me again, two weeks later, I was cold to him.

“What do you want, Henri?”

“What's this, Hon? Everything ok?”

I lied. “Fine, everything's fine. Just... been a while since you've called me. Starting to think you don't care about me at all.”

His turn to lie. “Oh, Hon, don't say that. Of course I care about you. In fact, I want to get together with you tonight if you can get away. Don't you want to see me again?”

I was honest when I answered that I did want to see him again, but I know the thin, cold lines of my lips came through in my voice. I agreed to meet him in the usual spot and waited for him on a Friday night. I'd told my parents I'd be sleeping over at Fawn's house, hoping Henri would want to take me back to his place where we could fall in love again. I knew we would, if only he would take me there. I loved him, still, the coldness a sign of just how hurt I was, and only someone I loved could really hurt me like that.

Nothing changed. Again, he drove me to the park, and again, unloaded in his condom while fucking my cunt. I was a robot, just letting him hump me. I didn't care. I wasn't sick, I wasn't angry, I was just putting up with it. It didn't hurt, he still had gentle hands, but his touch did nothing to bring me pleasure, to make me feel his love.

I was just the hole he fucked when he wanted to cum.