My mom had always told me, “Your words have power.” She had no idea. It wasn’t the words. It was my mouth. I was tired of being the smart, nerdy nobody. The girl who had nothing to offer but red hair, dull skin, and no boobs. I’d rather be known as a slut. A whore. At least I’d be known for something I had talent for.

“Can you take me home now?” I nonchalantly asked Mike, as if I had better things to do. I smoothed down my shirt and pulled out a pink glossy lipstick Brandi had given me. I slid it over my lips as he watched with anticipation. For a minute, I thought I saw drool.

“Really? Come on, Louisa, just one more time. Please.” He was begging.

I felt fierce. Strong. Desired. Special. And most of all, he wanted me. He was actually pleading. I felt a surge go through my body as I recognized what an opportunity this was. This single night was going to transform my future. It was going to change me forever.

“No. Just take me home. Maybe some other time. And, Mike, if you ever want your dick in my mouth again, just know I’m not going by Louisa anymore. It’s Weezie now.”

The last two years of high school were amazing. I had friends. I even had a few boyfriends. But mostly, I had experiences. I held on to my virginity as if it were the key to the pearly gates. If I had to be honest, I wasn’t saving it for the one. Mostly, I was petrified. After my first experience giving head—yup, now that I had about twenty under my belt, I had quite a vocabulary for putting a dick in my mouth—I wasn’t going to trust Brandi anymore to tell me the truth about sexuality. She tended to sugarcoat things, and I wanted to know what to expect so I didn’t look like a dufus.

I actually had a clique of girls I hung with. One episode of putting a dick into your mouth and you became the “it” girl. Casey was my go-to person when I wanted the actual truth about all things sex. She was the resident slut. I’d read about it while I was peeing in the girl’s restroom. Evidently, she’d opened her legs to so many boys she had to track them via a computer spreadsheet. She showed it to me once. My only thought: impressive.

She gave me the skinny on virginity and the lack thereof. It gave me chills just hearing her talk about it. The way she described it sounded painful and not all that pleasurable. I guess all that bullshit about bells ringing and fireworks was a crock of shit. I supposed that’s why people waited until marriage or some token hot guy. If you were going to be bleeding and writhing in pain, it should be because of his royal hotness.

I had absolutely no desire to have sex. But I enjoyed getting guys off. It not only made them feel good, but it gave me a rush too. I wasn’t thrilled with the ejaculating in my mouth, and Brandi had told me I never had to swallow. She claimed it had too many calories. Never mind it tasted like ass most of the time. But now I found out it could make me fat too? She gave me options. Either have them pull out or spit.

For some reason, though, it really didn’t seem fulfilling if I didn’t follow through to completion. If I psyched myself up, I always managed to swallow. Sometimes the taste wasn’t that bad, and sometimes it was downright nasty. Breath mints became my number one investment. Depending on the dick, I ate one before or after. And if one wasn’t handy, I tried to pretend it was something else.

Brandi had gotten me a fake-bronzed spittoon for my birthday. Ha-ha. The way I was going, it might be needed in the future.

So even under peer pressure, I was content with my sexuality the way it was. I didn’t deem it necessary to rid myself of my V-card just yet. No, I wasn’t waiting for that token hot guy; I was stalling. At some point, I would get to it, but I didn’t have it on my bucket list. Or my to-do list, the one I made for college. I figured I was going to be the only virgin, and possibly, I could use that to my advantage. I knew eventually I would have to give up the goods. College wasn’t high school. Those boys would be men. And I knew I was only postponing the inevitable.

I met Haven Wells when I was a freshman in college. It was by sheer luck that we even ran into each other. I’d only been on campus for a few weeks; I hadn’t even gotten a dorm mate yet. The college was co-ed, so I hoped for an opportunity to bunk with a hottie. There was also the distinct possibility I’d have some creepster. Actually, having the room to myself was great. I could bring back boys and not worry about some Bible-thumping, chastising roommate who would counsel me on my wicked ways and threaten me with burning in hell. I’d already met the purity group on campus. I didn’t tell a lie. I told them flat out my hymen was intact. Of course, I left out the part that I’d been blowing the opposite sex for two years.

One Friday night, I’d been invited to a frat party. Booze and boys. Woo-hoo! I dressed accordingly. I had no idea if it was all of the dick I’d been sucking or the come I’d been ingesting, but I’d filled out. I had curves and boobs. My mom had been right. Bless her heart. Let’s just say my C-cups runneth over. My skin was now soft and smooth, and I’d been going to a salon for the last year. My hair had waves, not clown curls. I’ll go out on a limb and say I looked sexy. I might not have been a ten in the looks department, but when word got out I had special skills, I became a twelve.

At this particular party, evidently no one wanted a blowjob. They wanted to get laid. Sure, they would take the BJ as foreplay, but what they really wanted was virgin pussy. Seriously! That must have gotten out too. Did this college and the fucking frat house have some master list of virgins?

I leaned up against the far wall, “scouting” the troops. I saw many possibilities, and if I continued doing shots, those prospects would grow. By the end of the night, I wouldn’t be too picky. No, I didn’t feel like a slut, but I thought like one. I wasn’t going to apologize to anyone just because I enjoyed sucking cock.

“Hey, Weasel, you wanna play quarters with us?”

I looked up at some random guy wearing sweatpants and a college logo shirt. “It’s Weezie, you asshat,” I replied with a smirk.

“Whatever. We’d love you… to join us.”

How cute. They thought they had to get me wasted first. I chuckled to myself. I looked over at the table with a slanted smile. Oh, this wasn’t going to be bad at all. There were at least eight of them, and three were gorgeous. Even though my eyes stayed fixated on their cocks when I was doing them, occasionally it was nice to have that erection attached to a visual feast. And there were many I expected would taste delicious covered in chocolate and smothered with whipped cream.

I moved away from the wall. That’s when I noticed her. Now, I normally never checked out chicks. I was strictly a penis woman. But there was something about her. A sadness. A shyness. She looked younger than most of the students here and lonely. This girl reminded me of myself just two years prior. She was pretty enough, but her clothes appeared to come from Plain Jane Monthly. Black baggy sweatpants, a heavy white sweater, and black flats. I cringed. Jesus. This girl definitely had assets—somewhere. Her clothing was obviously sizes too big, and she wore no makeup and—holy mother of pearl—she had no jewelry on.

Her eyes slanted as she caught me staring.

“Hi. Want to join us for an intellectual round of quarters?” I asked, winking.

She gave me the onceover and appeared unsure of my real motives. “Umm… I’ve never played. Sorry,” she murmured as she kept her head down.

I walked over to her. “Hey, no worries, sweetie. Quarters isn’t a game of aptitude; it’s more like line of sight. Think of it as horseshoes for alcoholics. By the way, I’m Weezie, and I like penis.”