I don't think I'm really much different from any other girl my age when it comes to sex and sexuality. I live in an environment in which the focus point of life for teenage girls is being attractive, being hot and sexy.

That same environment says any teenage girl who actually does anything sexual is a slut and a whore. Everyone wants to see her naked, but if she lets them they'll mock, jeer and ridicule her with heartless and relentless disdain.

The exception to that is if you have a regular boyfriend and are in love. Aside from that your job is to bask in the adoration and lust and desire of all the guys around you but act pretty much like a nun. Well, a nun who gives blow jobs.

Because blow jobs aren't really sex, you see.

This can be... confusing, at times, to say the least. It's a narrow balancing act of trying to look hot without looking like you're trying to look hot, of showing off your body without going too far or displaying too much.

You don't want to be seen as a prude, so you have to do some things, let the guys do some things, but you have to be careful about how far you go or the same guys who say such nice things to you to get their hands on your body will be telling their friends what a slut you are the next day at school.

Guys have no restraint and no self-control, will say anything to get you to let them do what they want, and if you show much eagerness in response will then turn around and think you're slutty. Looking like I do, I've had experience with that kind of shit.

And I did NOT want more.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I had a very, very strong interest in sex, even a fascination. I wanted to know what it was like, what it felt like, and I had a lot of wild, sexual fantasies, some of them pretty nasty. I got turned on fairly easily, and I really would have loved to have an outlet for that hunger and lust.

But not at the cost of everyone sneering at me everywhere I went.

I experimented alone, then. I was the only one I could trust not to laugh at me or mock me or tell the girls and guys at school about what I had said or how I had reacted. That included using money I got from birthdays and babysitting to buy a dildo.

OMG, the first time I went to the rental box to get it I was gripped by this tremendous sense of anticipation, one that felt like I had an electrical charge inside my body. I grabbed it as casually as could be, shoved it into my over-sized shoulder bag, and headed home from school.

My brother was at football practice and my parents were working, so I eagerly ran to my bedroom, locked the door, and tore open the package, to stare, open-mouthed at this big... cock! I mean, it's not like I hadn't seen cocks in my day. I had become better and better at oral sex, after all. So I know what a guy's stiff cock looked like.

But this was mine! And it didn't have to just go in my mouth and deflate! It could go inside me!

I had misjudged the size, though, and was a little wary of it. It was thicker and longer than I had expected. Thicker and longer than any guy I'd seen in person yet. Certainly it was thicker and longer than my fingers and the handle of my hair brush, which was what I had been using up until then.

Of course, I had to try it out immediately, getting some baby oil for lubrication, and then enjoying myself with the big cock through multiple orgasms, each of which left me gasping and moaning and my body trembling.

It had felt soooo much better than anything I had ever tried! The size stretched me wonderfully, making me ache in this deliciously sensual way! I had loved the feel of the big dildo up inside me. I had practically swooned as I'd ridden up and down on it!

Using the dildo both satisfied me, giving me more resistance to guys trying to get into my pants, and also made me want to feel a real one inside me even more. If my parents hadn't had money and hadn't sent me to this fairly small, private school, I might have been more willing to try.

As it was, my school was small enough that everyone knew everyone's sexual business. Also, the guys, being mostly well-off, were pretty cocky and smug. And the better looking they were, the more likely they were to be arrogant assholes and to tell all their buddies about the hot girls they'd gotten into bed, and all about what had happened.

In fact, a lot of them lied their asses off about it, even if you didn't sleep with them. I'd had a couple of guys suggest to their friends they had fucked me, even though I'd only given them blow jobs. Lying bastards. It was like they were all in this desperate competition and the guy who fucked the most hot girls won.

Well, I had no intention of being on someone's score list.

All of this is just background for what happened to get me that experience I was really, really hoping to get, but without any danger of word getting around about what a slut I was.

My friend Claire was, like me, from a fairly well-off family. But while I lived in a condo she lived in a separate house with a big back yard and a pool.

Anyway, we were hanging around her pool one day and she mentioned that her family was going to the Caribbean for a holiday. To St. Lucia. Claire was this very intensely intellectual redhead with a slender body and long hair, cut right in the middle of her forehead to spill to either side of her face like it was drawn in place.

She used a lot of hair spray.

But she had these bright green eyes and was always studying. She was smart and reliable and didn't do stupid stuff, nor get all fluttery about things like guys and fashion and Hollywood. She wore a black swimsuit, like me, except while we both had triangular string tops her bottom was low riding but cut straight across her hips. Mine was smaller, with two thin straps cutting up diagonally over my hips.

Not that the suits really mattered since we were alone and just hanging out, playing in the pool, and sometimes tossing a beach ball back and forth.

“Isn't it kind of hot this time of year?” I said.

She shrugged. “Daddy says it's nice. And we're up on a hill overlooking the ocean on the side of the island that doesn't get as much rain, so he says it's less humid.”

“How long you gonna be gone?” I asked.

“A month.”

I felt a surge of disappointment. I didn't have a ton of friends because I was a little... off. I mean, I didn't consider myself off, but some girls did. I didn't share their obsession with guys, makeup, fashion and Hollywood, for one thing. I also tended to have kind of a sarcastic attitude. Some guys thought I was snotty and a snob.

Which I suppose I was, in a way. I mean, I did think I was superior – to them. That didn't mean I didn't keep trying, and sometimes accepted dates if the guy seemed more – mature – than usual. But dating was always a difficult experience since they kept whining and begging for more than I was willing to give them.

“Why don't you come with us?”

I stared at her. “I couldn't do that!” I exclaimed, immediately wondering how I could do that.

“Why not? The flight doesn't cost much, and the rest would be free. You can stay in my room.”

“Well... but – .”

I didn't come up with any really good reason why I couldn't. But while me and Claire were pretty good friends we weren't really, really tight, you know, like the kind of friend you're supposed to go off for a month together with.

Of course, maybe after a month together we would be!

“Come on, it'll be fun!” she said, showing more enthusiasm for the idea. “Otherwise I'll be stuck with my stupid brothers and probably be bored out of my skull.”

“What do you do on St. Lucia except swim?” I asked.

“I bet there's tons to do.”

She got up and went inside and came out with an IPad and then threw herself down on the grass just inside the shade as I joined her, kneeling next to her. She googled it and then brought up a bunch of pictures. I dropped forward onto my elbows, staring at the IPad as we looked through them, talking about the markets and the beaches and the gorgeous hilltops.

“You girls having fun?”

The voice behind me was a familiar one. It was her dad. But Claire had said he wouldn't be home for hours and I was in a thong. Not only was I in a thong I was on my knees and elbows, with my bare butt in the air pointed right at him!

Of course the awareness of that hit me with a jolt and I jerked upright and quickly squirmed around so I was facing him, feeling the heat rushing to my face.

“Hi, Daddy!” Claire said, turning her head. “We're looking at St. Lucia.”

“Well, you can look at it in person soon,” he said.

I was still blushing, not used to, well, you know, showing off my bare butt like that to a guy! Even an old guy!

Although, to be fair, he didn't look old. I mean, my dad is a normal dad. He's like in his late forties, and a bit plump and his hair is thinning. Mr. Masters was … big and muscly! And he looked even bigger and more muscly in the swimsuit he was wearing!

He and his wife had had Claire and her brothers when they were pretty young, not even twenty, so he was younger than my dad. But he was also just... big! I mean, he had really broad shoulders and a thick, muscled chest, washboard stomach and long, tanned legs.

He had really short hair, but it gave him a stern, tough guy kind of look to go with his handsome, square-jawed face

Which meant that even though he was an old guy and Claire's dad, a part of me didn't really think of him as a dad, but as a guy. I don't mean I had the hots for him or anything, but I did... appreciate just how hot he looked.