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Clarissa Explains It All: Part 2 - Better Than Lonely (Mf)
by Ambush Bug (ilikeknives@msn.com)

I couldn't decide what to wear. I had a whole closet full of blouses,
dresses, skirts and pants, all of it fashionably unfashionable, but none of
it appealed to me. It was all upbeat and positive, nothing dark and gloomy,
and I needed dark and gloomy because that was how I was feeling. That was
how I'd been feeling for weeks now, ever since I realized that Sam wasn't
going to be coming around anymore.

It was my own fault. I'd been stupid, naive, wanted too much from him too
soon. I crowded him, invaded his personal space somehow. But how do you sleep
with someone and not invade their personal space?

My liason with Sam had been a complete surprise, something I'd never expected
to happen. He was my best friend, after all, more like a brother to me than a
potential lover (more like a brother, in my mind, than Ferguson, my real
brother), and besides, I was only fourteen years old, I'd never done more
than kiss a boy before, and that was only twice. But Sam had been so sweet,
so passionate, and yet so gentle and loving, everything I dreamed a boy could
be.

But then he'd changed. He'd stopped showing up at my window, his ladder just
laying there in the yard and never moving, and when I tried to talk to him or
called him on the phone he was always too busy doing other things. It was
obvious that he didn't want anything more to do with me, and I blamed myself;
I had been stupid, too eager and easy. I'd allowed him to use me and toss me
away, just like the girls the rest of us whispered about in the school
hallways. I was a slut, and Sam may have truly loved me before, but now that
he knew what kind of girl I was he coudn't love me anymore.

And in a way I couldn't blame him. I deserved my pain, and I wanted to wear
it like a shroud, like a scarlet letter. I wanted everyone to see what a
terrible person I'd become, I wanted them to hate me, to punish me with their
disapproval and contempt.

Unfortunately, shame wasn't in my wardrobe. The closest thing I had was a
black blouse and skirt set that was more gothic than penitential. I had some
black tights to go with it, though, and a lot of black accessories.

What the heck? I thought, losers can't be choosers.

* * *

I wore the blouse and skirt, which was just a little bit short, and the
tights, and a pair of black combat boots. I added an onyx necklace and black
earrings, painted my nails black and put on black eye shadow and lipstick. I
even had a black bow in my hair. I was ready to go out into the world and
show everyone what a poor excuse for a human being I was. And I knew just the
place to go: The Happy Cat, that dance club down on Pacific Avenue, the one
where all the kids from school hung out. Make sure I got seen (and despised)
by people who knew me.

I went down the stairs and through the living room. Mom and Ferguson were
sitting on the sofa watching tv. I told Mom where I was going and bolted out
the front door before she could stop me. I walked down the street to the
corner bus stop and waited, tried to keep my mind clear.

I didn't want to think about Sam anymore, how sweet our lovemaking had
been, or the painful and humiliating aftermath. How ridiculous I'd looked,
following him around like a little puppy, begging for any measely little
scrap of his attention. Falling deep into the well of heartbreak when he
gave me none. All those hours of moping and crying. Whole days filled with
the dark weight of his indifference, the knife of rejection carving my self
respect to shreds. Loneliness settling over me like a monstrous lover,
crushing me against the ground, invading me, fucking me, raping me-

Stop it, I thought. You don't have any right to feel sorry for yourself.

The bus came rolling up and I got on, paid the fare, and looked for a place
to sit. It was totally crowded and there were only a few seats open, none of
them next to girls so I had to sit next to this guy with a bag of groceries
on his lap. He was kind of cute, around nineteen or maybe twenty, with short
blonde hair and big round brown eyes, dressed in jeans and a blue longsleeved
shirt. Very normal and casual guy, it seemed. The boy next door. Except the
boy next door to me had climbed through my window and deflowered me then
created a brand new world for himself in which I didn't exist.

He glanced at me when I sat down, then did a quick and subtle double take,
but not because I was such a bombshell; my loser weirdo slut clothes had
caught his eye. I said hi to him, the sad tenor of my voice letting him
know that yes, I did understand wa tua turd I was. He pitied me with a
slight smile, then looked out the window.

I looked down at my hands, clasped firmly together in my corrupt lap,
and wondered if I could actually pull this off. I didn't like feeling so
worthless. And it was a lot of work, as much work as being good had once
been.

Shut up, I told myself, you deserve it. Then I realized that I'd said it out
loud. The boy next door looked at me.

"You okay?" he asked in a kind voice.

"I'm fine," I replied. My voice was quivering but I couldn't be sure if it
was because I felt so bad about myself or because I was nervous. He was
really cute. And so nice. He obviously cared about me.

"You seem kinda sad," the guy said. "Things going a little rough for you?"

Yes, it was plain to see that my life was a pathetic tragedy. No reason to
lie about it. I made the snap decision to tell him what had happened, lay out
all the disgusting facts about myself so he could get started on treating me
like an outcast.

"A little," I said, shrugging my shoulders. But then nothing else came out of
my mouth.

"My name's Kurt," Kurt said. "What's your name?"

"Clarissa." Clarissa The Stupid Slut Bomb.

"Well, Clarissa, I'm sorry things aren't going well for you. You look like a
really nice girl."

Oh wow. He liked me.

"Thank you," I said. I accidentally smiled.

"So, what's the problem? Maybe I can help."

I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Just....guy trouble."

"Oh, I can't believe that," Kurt said. No surprise that he would think I was
lying, considering what a rancid tramp I was. "What guy in his right mind
would give a cute girl like you any kind of trouble?"

Cute? Did he say cute? My smile got a little bigger and I focused a little
harder on the hands in my lap, waiting for more.

"So, where are you going?" Kurt asked. "You look like you're on your way to
a rave."

"No," I said. "Just....getting out for a while. Looking for some place to
have fun." And incur the justified contempt of humanity. But maybe I didn't
have to go that far. I mean, if Kurt was willing to lower himself to actually
hanging with me. But no, he didn't deserve that. He deserved a nice girl, a
real girl. But wait, I was a nice girl, he said so. Damn. I was suddenly all
confused.

"Well," Kurt said, "why don't you come with me? There's a great party just
getting started over near the college. Wanna go?"

"But I'm only four....sixteen."

"That's okay with me, if it's okay with you." Kurt smiled, the coolest smile
I'd seen since Sam had left my room and, apparently, my life.

"It's okay with me," I said, and almost giggled.

"Cool. My stop's about another two blocks up. We'll get off there and swing
by my place. I need to pick up some smokes. That okay with you?"

"Sure."

I couldn't believe this was happening. A cute cool guy actually wanted to
spend time with me, take me to a party. A college party. That whole hate
myself thing just kind of evaporated all of a sudden. At least for a while,
anyway.

* * *

We got off on the corner of Stimson Avenue and Bell Street, and I realized
we were only about a block away from the college. I wondered if Kurt was a
college boy himself, hoping so. I had a thing for college boys, almost as
intense as my thing for Ken Griffey, Jr. We walked down Stimsom Avenue, past
a row of apartment buildings, until we reached his place. He lived in a
basement apartment, a small one bedroom place that he'd decorated mostly with
movie posters. He had plants too, and a huge tv and stereo that actually had
a turntable on it. I looked at this while he carried his groceries into his
tiny kitchen. On the wall directly above the stereo was a calender with a
picture of a nude girl. Miss March. He must have liked her, because this was
the middle of July.

Kurt came back from the kitchen and I told him I liked his stereo.

"Do you actually play records on it?" I asked.

"Sure," he said, "but I don't like to. Don't wanna get them scratched up.
Besides, digital sound is way better. Here ya go."

He held out a beer. My first impulse was to say no but I ignored that. I
took it and popped the top like I'd been drinking all my life. Not wise, of
course, but I figured I was a bad girl now, this was the kind of thing I was
supposed to be doing. Besides, I had this mad desire to impress my new hunky
college bud.

Kurt put on a CD, soft romantic retro soul music from the seventies, then sat
down on his sofa and patted the cushion next to him. I sat down too and said,
"This is really cool. But aren't we going to the party?"

Kurt smiled and put his arm around my shoulders (which I really liked) and
said, "This is the party, sweetheart." Then he took a drink of his beer.

I drank some of my beer too, so mesmerised by his use of the word sweetheart
that I hardly noticed how awful it tasted. I had the feeling that things were
going to get very adult very soon. A month ago that would have bothered me,
even scared the crap out of me, but then my best friend in the world had
used me like a human jizz rag and things had changed. For better or worse
(probably worse) I was a woman now, and if Kurt wanted to fuck me and toss me
aside the way Sam had, my sobriety wasn't going to stand in the way. It was
better than being lonely and in pain.

We drank beer and listened to music and talked for a while. Kurt asked me a
bunch of first date questions, like Did I grow up in this area, and Did I
have any brothers and sisters. I told him I was an only child, although we
did have a gargoyle named Ferguson living with us. When I said "we" he asked
me about that and I had to admit that I lived with my parents. Then he asked
me where I went to school and I slipped and told him the real name of my
junior high school. I had to confess that I was only fourteen, but Kurt
seemed totally unfazed by my revelation. He still had his arm around my
shoulders and he was playing with my hair, and each time he drank from his
beer can he would set it down on my leg, just above the knee. It was easy
for me to imagine what it would be like to have just his hand there.

By the time I was finished with my one can of beer I was feeling a little
tipsy and knew that I'd had enough. But then Kurt asked me if I wanted
another one and I said yes. I knew he was trying to get me drunk but I
didn't care. As long as I didn't pass out or throw up I was doing fine.

Kurt went and got me another beer, opened it for me, then sat down next to
me again on the sofa. His arm went right back over my shoulders and he kind
of pulled me against him.

"Tell me something, Clarissa," he said. "You ever been with a guy before?"

"Of course," I said. "I've always been around guys. Every day of my life.
What a silly question, Kurt. I'm not a nun, you know."

"Not around guys," he said. "With guys. You know."

I had no idea what he was talking about. But then he leaned closer and kissed
my cheek, then my neck, and I suddenly got it.

"Oh, okay," I said, feeling a little dizzy. "You mean, have I ever had sex?
Have I ever let a guy fuck me and toss me out like moldy bread? Ever let a
guy use me as his own private blow up doll? Let a guy treat me like the
sleazy slut I am?"

"Wow," Kurt said, backing away slightly, "sounds like you've got some
issues."

"Nope, no issues." I drank some more beer. "It's just that this guy, his name
is Sam, he was my best friend, but then he told me he loved me and I believed
him. Stupid me."

"I'm sorry, Clarissa. He must have hurt you pretty bad."

"Only until he got it all the way in. Then it was Come City." I giggled,
surprising myself. "I think I'm a little drunk. But I'm not hurt, Kurt. Hurt,
Kurt. I'm over him already. I've learned the truth about myself, that I'm
just a dumb blonde waif who couldn't handle it. I'm the Shadow Lane pushover.
I'm the easy mark, the town pump. Sam's used toilet paper." And then for no
reason at all I burst into tears.

"Oh, Clarissa, it's okay, don't cry," Kurt said. He set his beer down, then
took mine from me and set it down too, then he took me in his arms and hugged
me and patted my back. "I don't know exactly what happened between you and
this guy Sam, but I can tell you that you're not dumb, and you're not any of
those other things you said. I know I've only known you for a little while,
but I can already see that you're a very special girl. And if Sam doesn't
want you now, then he's the one who's stupid."

It was the most moving speech I'd ehearheard. So eloquent and sensitive, so
generous and kind and loving. Kurt was the most beautiful human being I'd
ever met.

"Really?" I said, my voice wavering.

"Really," Kurt replied. "What you gave him was the greatest gift a girl can
give, and he obviously can't appreciate that. Don't you think that sounds
pretty stupid, Clarissa?"

"I dunno," I said. Actually, I did know, I just wanted him to keep talking
like that.

"Sure it is," he said. He was rocking me now, and stroking my hair. "Any guy
who has the chance to be with you is the luckiest guy in the world. And any
guy who would even think of letting you go, well, he's gotta be about as dumb
as a box of rocks."

"A box of rocks," I said. "Sam is a box of rocks."

"I can tell you this, too," Kurt said. He touched me under the chin and I
looked up into his dreamy eyes. "I'm not stupid. I know how lucky I am just
to be able to be here with you. And if you would let me kiss you, Clarissa,
I'd be even luckier."

I didn't reply. I didn't have to. I just smiled fondly, and he was right,
he wasn't dumb at all, because he knew that I was giving him permission. He
closed his eyes and I closed mine and the next thing I knew his lips were
touching mine. He kissed me, sweetly and tenderly, and I returned his kiss,
already feeling the rush of passion move through me. I couldn't believe he
wanted me, that he didn't just totally hate me because of what I'd told him,
but I didn't stop to think about it, I just surrendered to him, gave myself
over to his gentle care, trusted him with my vulnerability. He wanted me,
and that was all that mattered.

He pushed his tongue into my mouth and, at the same time, his hand touched
my boob. I caught myath,ath, still unused to someone else touching me that
way, but I didn't stop him as he began fondling me through my blouse. I
caressed his back and his shoulders as we kissed, his tongue pushing in and
out of my mouth, his hands sqeezing my boobs. We fell back onto the sofa and
I spread my legs. Kurt kept kissing me as heed med my short skirt up, then
settled himself between my legs. His hard cock pressed against my cunt as he
unbuttoned my blouse, pulled it open. I was wearing my black lace bra, it was
really pretty, but Kurt hardly noticed it was there. He smoothly undid the
clasp and moved it out of his way, then began kissing my bare boobs.

I ran my hands through his hair, over his shoulders and back, my eyes closed
and my mind going back to that day Sam had made love to me. This was a lot
like that, the feelings inside of me, the yearnings and hoping, the sense
that things were out of my control and yet not really out of my control at
all. We were moving too fast, but that was okay, I wanted to move too fast,
I wanted to soar along at lightning speed. And I was a little drunk this
time, and not in love, and not surprised or overwhelmed. I didn't have to
worry about what this would mean later on, how it would affect our
friendship, because Kurt and I weren't friends, we'd only just met an hour
ago. Maybe two hours ago. This was just a fling, a tryst, a passionate
interlude designed only to dispel the loneliness and pain. The full gravity
of this knowledge came to me suddenly, like a bright light bursting inside
my head, and in a way it made me a little sad, but it made me glad too,
because I understood what we were doing. I hadn't been fooled by my own
earlier romantic longings. Kurt could do whatever he wanted to me but he
couldn't hurt me.

He kissed and nibbled on my boobs, then began kissing his way down my
stomach. I watched him as he stood up, one knee on the sofa, and took off
his shirt. His chest was kind of musclely and absent of hair and I wanted
to just reach up and touch it. He tossed his shirt on the floor, then slid
both of his hands up under my skirt. He took hold of the waistband of my
tights and began pulling them down. I lifted my butt and he took them off
of me, pulling them down my legs to my ankles. He realized then that he
wouldn't be able to get them over my combat boots and we both laughed. I
started to sit up so I could take them off but he touched my shoulder and
said, "No, let me." He patiently untied the laces, then slipped my boots
off, following them with my tights. He left my socks on, which I thought
was kind of erotic, although I had no idea why.

He took my panties off next, and I let my knees fall to each side, thinking
he was going to lay down on me again, that he was going to fuck me, but he
didn't. Instead he brought his face down between my legs, held one thigh in
each hand, and began licking me. With the very first touch of his tongue I
felt a shock of pleasure dart through me, and it only got stronger as he
continued to glide his tongue over my lips, from one end to the other. The
heat and pressure grew, spreading out through my body as Kurt wormed his
tongue inside me, then started to push it in and out like it was a teeny
little cock. His tongue dove and burrowed into my cunt, his lips sucked my
clit with an almost frightening intensity, and I was only dimly aware of my
hands sneaking up to hold and fondle my own boobs. I took my nipples between
my thumbs and fingers and played with them, moving my hips and pushing my
cunt up against Kurt's mouth as Kurt continued to go down on me. I gasped
and moaned, sounding to myself like a crying kitten, until finally the storm
that had been building inside me was released and went crashing through me
in a long, trembling wave.

When it was over I couldn't do anything but collapse on the sofa. I was
spent, exhausted, and a little bit sweaty. But I felt so good inside, I was
warm and happy from head to toe. I gathered the strength to lift my head a
little bit and saw Kurt, still down there, kissing my pubic hair almost like
he was in love with it. I reached down and ran my fingers through his fine
blonde tendrils, feeling a mixture of relief and gratitude.

"That was so cool," I said, then immediately felt lame; was that all I could
say?

"It's gonna get better," Kurt replied, then started moving up my belly,
kissing me and licking me as he went. He seemed to flow over me, his body
becoming a pleasant weight, his arms encircling me, holding me tight against
his chest. Some time during his oral exploration of my cunt he'd managed to
open the fly on his jeans and his cock was sliding along one of my thighs.
I reached down between us and took it in my hand, the first time I'd ever
actually touched one of those things. It was warm and hard, and yet
surprisingly soft at the same time. I wished I could see it, just study it
for a minute, but Kurt had other plans. He maneuvered himself between my
legs, pushing his hips upward, and I held his cock on course until it nudged
at the lips of my cunt, then slowly entered me.

I guessed he was the same size as Sam, or at least it felt that way, and
just like Sam he seemed to totally fill me up as he slid all the way inside.
I gasped again, felt a meow coming on. I held him tightly, wrapped my legs
around him as he fucked me. I moved with him, discovered how to get it just
right so that his cock pressed on my clit as he pumped himself into me, and
before long the familiar and welcome fire of orgasm was bursting through me.
I cried out as I came, amazed at how splendid it was, even better than with
Sam, and then I was even more amazed when I realized a second one was on its
way. I kept grinding my hips and Kurt kept pounding his cock deep into me,
his arms holding me tight, his kisses falling all over my face and neck and
boobs. Another powerful explosion of pleasure shook me and I cried out again.
Suddenly Kurt stopped, his cock swelled in the depths of my body, and he
moaned in my ear as he spilled inside of me. I dug my nails into his back,
probably hurting him, but I couldn't help it.

I trembled and sighed as Kurt and I eased into a sweet warm afterglow, our
breathing still a bit labored, our heartbeats drumming between us. Kurt
continued to hold me and kiss me, his body heavy on top of mine but so
comfortable at the same time.

"You were great, Clarissa," he whispered in my ear. "I think that was
probably the most awesome experience I've ever had."

Awesome? I was awesome?

I didn't know what to say, was afraid to open my mouth and have something
stupid or clingy come flying out. I didn't want this to mean anything if it
didn't mean anything to Kurt, but aside from his appreciation I had no idea
what he thought, what he wanted from me now. I was determined not to make
the same mistake I'd made with Sam.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," I heard myself say.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, it's not that I didn't like making love with you, it was wonderful.
It was the best I've ever had too. I came twice, even. But I can't get Sam
out of my head. Not that I was thinking about him while we were doing it,"
Oh God, please make me shut up now, "I wasn't, it's just that he was my
first, and the only guy I've ever been with, and, well, I wasn't really
comparing you to him, but-"

Kurt didn't say anything, he just covered my mouth with his, kissing me
deeply. I kissed him back, yet another thrill coarsing through me, and
promised myself I'd never mention Sam again.

Kurt ended the kiss, looked at me, touched my cheek.

"If you want to," he said, "you can stay here with me. We can spend just
the evening together, or the night if you wanna do that. It's up to you,
Clarissa. I'll take whatever you think I'm worthy of having."

Wow, that was so sweet. I felt a rush of gratitude and affection for him,
wanted suddenly to stay all night, let him fuck me again and again, five
times, ten times, however many times was humanly possible. I still didn't
love him, but I figured he'd earned the right to do anything he wanted to
me. Well, within certain limits, anyway. Whips and chains were definitely
not in our future, but I could easily see us still together some
immeasurable time from now, still exploring each other, still finding the
solace and the comfort we were seeking.

"Actually," I said, "I have to be home by eleven. But we can get together
again, maybe tomorrow?"

"I'd love that. Give me your phone number-"

"How about you give me yours?" I said, hating the insecurity in my voice.
But Kurt just laughed softly.

"Sure," he said, "I'll give you mine. That way you can be sure I won't take
a powder on you."

Wow, he understood that, too.

"Call me tomorrow morning," he went on. "We can set up a time to meet
somewhere-"

"Or meet here," I said.

"Absolutely. Whatever you want, Clarissa."

I smiled and he kissed me again, then held me for a while, and I kept
thinking to myself that maybe I wasn't such a loser after all.

    

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