One of the Guys:
Part 1 -
Barbara had always been one of the guys. All her friends were male, and older than she was. At 19, she was mostly treated like a mascot, or something. The guys in her current circle were mostly guys she knew from work, and she was the only female on the road crew. Most women couldn’t have done some parts of the work, feminism be damned. Barbara could, though. She was strong. She wasn’t petite, nor did she feel particularly feminine. The guys acted like she was one of them, telling off color jokes in front of her, belching or farting when they felt the urge, talking in graphic, clinical detail about what they’d like to do to the blonde in the convertible who’d waited impatiently to be allowed to drive through the construction zone. Sometimes they’d tease her, making lewd suggestions or asking her embarrassing, probing questions about her sexual history (non-existent) and desires (forcefully suppressed). Sometimes, especially if they’d been drinking a lot, one or two of them would get a little handsy, smacking her fat ass or playfully grabbing at her tits. She knew none of them actually wanted her that way, though, she knew she wasn’t a pretty girl. She didn’t look anything like any of the girls the guys all talked about after work, the ones who had driven through or walked past their work site. They all liked thin, Barbie-like girls with big tits and revealing clothes. That was Ok. Barbara was content with just being accepted, joked around with, invited along when the guys gathered in one of their man caves to drink beer and shoot pool, or smoke pot and play video games.
Things started to change when Max joined the crew. He was popular right away, everyone liked him. He was easygoing, he was funny, he bought more beer than he drank. So, he started being around all the time, after work. Barbara liked him, too, very much, actually, but something about him made her nervous. The way he looked at her, sometimes, with a knowing little smirk, didn’t make her feel like one of the guys. The first time he saw, from across the room, one of the other guys smack her big behind, and her laugh it off, he grinned at her. It made her a little uncomfortable, but it also brought up some feelings she’d always tried really hard not to have.
The next day, they were all in Lewis’s garage, drinking beer and shooting pool. The guys were like always, laughing at dirty jokes and raunchy comments. It was her turn to play and she was playing against Jake. She made a combo and just as she was flushed with pleasure and pride from making the shot, Max, passing behind her, patted her ample ass and said “Nice shot.” He didn’t do it as a hard smack, making it jiggle, the way the other guys always did. He gave it two light pats and a slight squeeze. Then he continued on his way across the room, not looking back.
Barbara didn’t know how to feel. She felt like that kind of patting was drastically more intimate than what she allowed from the other guys, but couldn’t imagine trying to articulate what the “Rules of Slapping Barbara’s Ass” were and laying them down to Max. She also couldn’t deny to herself that it had turned her on immensely. She wondered whether he meant anything by it, whether he’d ever do it again, whether she wanted him to, or not. She found herself thinking about Max all the time. Staring at him whenever they were in the same place, looking away quickly, face hot, whenever he caught her.
One night she was at a party at Brian’s house. She went to the bathroom, and when she opened the door to come out, Max was standing in the doorway. “Oh, um, hi!” Barbara said, embarrassed and nervous. “Sorry, were you waiting-“
“I was waiting for you.” Max said, setting one fingertip against her sternum, above the cleft between her breasts and pushing so hard she took a couple unthinking steps back. He stepped forward at the same time and then they were both in the bathroom and he shut the door and locked it behind him.
Barbara felt frozen as Max stepped in close and whispered, “Its Okay, I know you like me.” And grabbed her belt buckle and started undoing it.
“Hey, wait!” Barbara said, totally astonished and confused by what was happening. She did like him, she wanted this, even, she thought. She’d even thought about it, fantasized about it, but she’d imagined it in a bed, after a nice date, maybe…
“Shut up, I don’t like teasing games.” Max said, yanking her jeans and underwear down to her knees, turning her, bending her over the sink.
“Max I don’t want to.” She protested, urgently but quietly. “Not here.” She could have shouted, screamed, and he’d have stopped. He’d have had to. The other guys would come busting in if he didn’t. But then he wouldn’t like her. Wouldn’t look at her or touch her in that way that wasn’t like one of the guys.
While she was still trying to figure out how to get control of the situation, he entered her. Despite having broken her hymen in a bicycle accident many years earlier, it hurt, some, when he pushed roughly into her. She wasn’t totally dry, but not nearly as lubed as she’d have liked, and he wasn’t slow, or subtle. She gasped when he reached between her legs to rub her clitoris with saliva-wetted fingers, and lubrication very quickly ceased to be a problem as he began moving in her.
Realizing, suddenly, that this was it, this was her losing her virginity, in someone else’s bathroom, roughly, from behind, that this was the memory she was always going to have of her first time, forever, Barbara started crying.
Grinning at her in the mirror, Max said “Stop crying, I’m not hurting you. I can give you something worth crying about, if you want.” He thrust into her and rubbed her clit for a few minutes before he pulled out, tugged himself a couple times, and ejaculated copiously into the crotch of her big panties, stretched between her knees. He gathered the tail of her work shirt and used it to wipe himself off, then he gave her bare ass the same two pats and a little squeeze he’d done at the pool table and said, “Not bad, Kiddo. We’ll have to do this again.” She heard him zip up, and he was at the door. “You gonna pull your pants up, or you want to stay that way like a little slut while I drum you up a couple more customers?
Horrified at the idea of the other guys seeing her like that, Barbara yanked her jeans up and fastened them. She could feel the still slightly warm wetness of his spunk against her vulva and it disgusted her, but it also excited her and that disgusted her even more. She felt ashamed of the whole encounter, that it was all something she could have, should have prevented or controlled, just by being a little more forceful. If she’d slapped him, or even just shouted, gotten angry, the whole thing wouldn’t have happened. Or if she hadn’t spent the past two months making googly eyes at him, he never would have even approached her. It was her fault, and she knew it. Max stepped out of the bathroom, laughing.
Barbara slipped out of the party without saying goodnight to anyone. She went home. She undressed. She threw her underwear in the trash. She got into the shower and alternated bouts of weeping with bouts of furious masturbation until she ran out of hot water. She crawled into bed, hugged one of her stuffed animals, and cried herself to sleep.
To be continued….
