I’ve been judged my entire life.

In my senior year of high school I had a serious boyfriend whom I blew daily, often two or three times. I couldn’t explain it, but from the very first time I had a cock in my mouth I loved giving head.

I loved the feeling of a cock in my mouth… especially when it was swelling from frank to bratwurst between my lips. To me, that was magic.

I equally loved feeling its firm hardness once it was completely erect, as well as feeling it pulse as it erupted, spewing warm, salty seed down my throat.

I didn’t always swallow the cum. Half the time it ended up splattered all over my face. My boyfriend loved the hubris of coming on me and although I hated to admit it, I loved the feeling of his warm cum raining down on my face. Believe it or not, I particularly loved the humiliation of it.

Although outside the bedroom I was the ultimate nerdy-looking, sweet good girl, the one every parent wanted to babysit for their children, in private I loved being slutty.

I loved wearing a thong and stay-up stockings under my long skirts or jeans.

I loved the idea that almost everyone saw me in only one way, yet underneath my perceived good-girl exterior lurked a cum-hungry slut.

Although ‘slut’ was probably overstating it, as I remained a virgin during this entire time.

I just sucked his cock… a lot.

I just swallowed his cum… a lot.

I just took facials… often.

Anyway, although I blew him all the time it wasn’t enough; he wanted to fuck me, but I really wasn’t ready for that.

So he dumped me for some skank who would fuck him on the first date and I suddenly ended up single. Ironically, I had hoped to lose my virginity to him at prom, I know, stupid, but he dumped me two weeks before then.

The kicker and what I couldn’t get past were his parting words, “You’re just a goodie-two-shoes tease.”

This exit line simmered through me all summer while I tried to break out of that Pollyanna image. I did particularly well in that endeavor while I was travelling in Europe: I had a wild summer. I managed to retain my virginity (well, one of my virginities), but I almost lost it to an Italian guy who was ten years older than me in Venice until I compromised and allowed him to take my anal virginity instead (which I found was very pleasurable once the initial pain subsided). I got in a 69 with a pretty girl at a hostel after a few too many drinks (I didn’t love licking pussy, but I sure enjoyed her tongue-licking me). I sucked off a bartender I’d met five minutes previously and did it behind the counter of his bar in Rome. I got ass-fucked in a bathroom in the Vatican after some convincing (where I really lived up the ‘When in Rome shoot off a Roman candle’ philosophy). And in France on the last day of my trip, I ended up at a party where I blew three guys in tandem, before finishing my kinky summer joining the mile-high club with one more ass fucking in the airliner’s cramped bathroom.

When I returned home I felt a bit guilty for how sluttily I’d behaved, so I decided that when I started college in the fall I would set sex aside (at least sex with other people) and focus on my schooling.

I’ve mentioned my nerdy look. I should also say I’m the epitome of the cute (but still nerdy) girl next door. I’m short, 5’1″, with long blonde hair I usually wear in a ponytail, blue eyes and secretly large DD breasts (I always wore loose sweaters in high school and didn’t take gym once it was no longer mandated (and why is it ever mandated? I mean seriously, how can dodgeball conceivably build anyone’s character?)). Anyway back to the subject, I concealed my breasts because I was rather self-conscious when I got stared at. Instead of gym, I kept fit by working out on my own, doing squats and so forth.

Once I was in college, stares no longer fazed me… I no longer hid my tits… no, instead I flaunted them… all from my new mindset of girl power.

Being dumped because I hadn’t put out, my father’s arrogant treatment of my mother, the liberation of sucking and getting ass-fucked with whomever I wanted during my European Sex Summer, topped off by my taking a feminism class, made me completely comfortable with who I was, and also made me into an in-your-face advocate for women. I was a sexual feminist, per se.

I hated that if a guy fucked a few girls he was considered a stud, but if a girl fucked a few guys she was a slut.

Anyway, I started college on the path to becoming a nurse, but I also took electives in feminist studies and psychology for personal interest.

The feminist course during my first semester had really opened my eyes to the bullshit patriarchy that existed worldwide between men and women.

So although I wasn’t a slut (once my first semester began) and had decided to be celibate for my first year in nursing so I could focus on my studies… I dressed however I felt like.

I tended to wear tight t-shirts that showcased my large, prominent tits… daring men just to try not to stare at these babies.

I wore jean shorts with pantyhose (a rather 80s look), to showcase my legs, or yoga pants that showcased my tight ass.

I knew I got stared at constantly because of my wardrobe, my sexy body, and my lack of modesty.

I knew some people perceived me as a slut, based only on my attire.

Refusing to be intimidated, I wore a variety of edgy t-shirts that drew attention not only to my tits but also to some of the more outrageous ideas from my feminist outlook, attention I began to really enjoy. I loved that I was the one in control of my sexual power. My high school boyfriend dumping me had angered me at first, but now I realized he’d accidentally liberated me from the stereotypical gender roles that I, like most teen girls, had blindly fallen in line with.

Dress cute for boys, talk about boys, suck cock, give up your pussy and maybe, just maybe, the self-centered dickhead will go down on you.

Fuck that!

My shirts included:

-the silhouette of a female wielding a strap-on and the slogan: Girl Power (not that I had ever pegged anyone and truthfully it wasn’t an idea I even found sexually arousing… I just liked the shock value of the message: the male conceit turned on its head).

-a cartoon of a girl holding the leash of a man on all fours wearing a collar, with two simple words: Chicks Rule (this one was pretty self-explanatory… a role reversal from the ridiculous popularity of 50 Shades).

-a picture of a high heel with the slogan: Shut up! I wear heels taller than your dick (because I was 5’1″ I often wore five-inch heels to make me taller… I also liked the way they accentuated my legs).

-a simple pink shirt that stated: Feminism is the radical notion that women are people (sometimes bluntness was needed).

-a black tank top I occasionally wore with the words in big red letters: SHE WANTS THE D(estruction of the patriarchy). (This concept of ending the millennia-long male patriarchy was my greatest obsession).

-a cute red shirt with two side-by-side cartoons: one box with a man and a woman inside it; a second box with the same woman pushing the man out of the box and he falling, with the slogans: under the first box (PROBLEM) and the second box (SOLVED) (this one just made me smile. I actually liked men, I wasn’t a lesbian, even though many people thought I was one because of my feminist outspokenness and what I wore).

-a silhouette of a girl on her back with her legs spread open with another girl on top and between them obviously going down on her with the slogan: some girls who eat other girls get over it (I wasn’t a lesbian, and had no real interest in exploring that, but as a feminist I supported women and their choice of sexuality).

-I also had three other politically charged text-only shirts about the patriarchy. One simply said: Fuck the patriarchy; another said: The future is female: smother the patriarchy; my last one was a little more humorous: it had three check boxes (single, taken, busily destroying the patriarchy).

So I knew I drew lots of attention from my attire, much of it critical, but I didn’t care.

I also became rather verbal in all my classes about demanding equality of the sexes… even in classes that had nothing to do with sexism, like chemistry.

To make matters difficult however, while I’d taken a secret oath of celibacy so I could focus on my studies and myself, Jenny, my roommate, was a complete slut. I mean a real slut. She had fucked at least twenty guys this school year, including three in one night, and enjoyed taking it in the ass and constantly stressed that I needed to try it. (I never felt like telling her I’d done that three times during the summer). She often brought guys home, and God, was she a screamer.

Three times I had walked in on her either sucking cock or getting fucked, as she didn’t always use her bedroom if I wasn’t home. I began to think she fucked in the living room specifically to shock me.

Now I’m fine if you want to be a slut… each woman should be able to do what she wants with her body… and I tried not to judge her… but it was obvious the word was out that she was a three-hole slut and a sure thing, and I worried that guys were taking advantage of her.

Now Jenny wasn’t dumb… academically her marks were higher than mine… and she got them almost without any studying. Truthfully, I was more jealous of her marks than her lineup of guys… but in my eyes she wasn’t street smart.

These days since I’d taken my oath of celibacy, I compensated by watching porn… a lot of porn.

Oddly I have to admit, listening to her getting fucked was kind of hot. Okay, I’ll fess up: I always found it very hot. I normally masturbated at least twice a day, usually three, plus every single time I could hear her getting fucked.

The porn I watched was often bukkake porn… and the clips that really got me off (even though I couldn’t explain why) were white women getting decorated by black men’s cum. I mean, I come from the south where racism is still pretty blatant, but the truth is that their cocks were just always so fucking big (at least in porn, which is the only place I’d ever seen a black one). It also added to my excitement that they frequently used the white slut like a whore, throwing her in whatever position they liked with no regard for her comfort, calling her names and the like… something I fantasized about being on the receiving end of very often (even though that fantasy totally contradicted the persona I presented to the world).

I got myself off to scenes like Lily Radar in ‘My Boyfriend Cuckold’ (I didn’t care much for the cuckold part); Piper Perri, the tiniest porn star there is, in ‘Blow Bang 14’ with ten black cocks coating her face; Iris Rose in ‘Blacks on Blondes’; just to name a few.

I also got off to scenes where black women were cum-coated cock-sucking sluts for a bunch of white men, like Zoey Reyes’ ‘Gangbang’ or Nia Nacci’s ‘1st Blowbang’.

Just watching load after load splattered on a woman’s face made my mouth water and my pussy tingle.

Now the truth was, although a blowbang was my biggest fantasy, I never considered actually doing one… that being the purpose of fantasy… to create a world where you can be anything, do anything, and with no consequences.

One evening I had downloaded and was watching a brand new blowbang scene starring the always wild Cherie DeVille, and for a rarity this porn scene actually had a plot. In the scene, she is making a run for the White House in 2020 and her campaign starts today. She reaches out to her old friend Sean Michaels to gather up volunteers to help canvass for her. She believes America needs a “woman’s touch” to solve its problems. After making a short speech exhorting her principles, Cherie drops to her knees. She’s going to use her willing, wet mouth not to speak any more…but to suck off her first group of volunteers!

I had my fingers in my pussy, imagining I was the one running for President and gearing up to suck every cock in America for their vote, when my roommate burst into my bedroom.

“What are you doing here?” I cried out, shocked, as I yanked my fingers out of my wet pussy. She never came into my room unannounced!

She smiled at catching me in the act of masturbation, “I know what you’re doing, you hypocrite.”

“Get out!” I demanded, pulling the sheets over me.

“I’ll even prove you’re a hypocrite. What are you watching?” she asked ignoring my outrage as she grabbed the laptop off my bed. As she studied the scene I had been watching she breathed, “Oh, my.”

“Give me back my computer,” I demanded, mortified she had caught me.

“This is some very interesting porn for a feminist to be watching,” she assessed, turning the laptop so I could watch as a black cock erupted a load all over Cherie.

“Just give it back,” I demanded again.

“Sure,” she shrugged, handing it back to me. “I imagine you need to finish.”

“Out!” I repeated.

“If you ever want to make that scene a reality, I know some black friends,” she smirked, before she strolled out… leaving my door open.

I got up and slammed the door. Fuck! I was completely pissed, and I remained in my room for the rest of the night.

Thankfully she didn’t mention a thing the next morning or anytime else that week, and I sure as hell didn’t either.

Yet underneath my fake smile I was still furious with her, and when I walked in on her the next time, fucking a black guy of course, I snapped.

“Could you confine your slut fests to your bedroom?” I exploded, even as Jenny continued bouncing on the cock inside her.

“I figured you would want to watch,” she shrugged. “I mean it’s only one black cock and not half a dozen, but still.”

“Fuck you,” I said.

“Do you want to go for a ride?” she asked, as she kept bouncing on the guy.

“Jesus H. Christ,” I cursed, as I stormed off to my room.

She called out after me, “You sure you don’t want to join?”

I slammed my door in response.

Of course my body was betraying me, my cunt sopping wet. Not exhibiting any shame and obviously really enjoying making me uncomfortable, she got really animated and even through the door I could hear her shouting, “Oh yes, fuck my lily-white cunt with your massive black cock,” and a bunch of other nasty lines.

Each one pissed me off more than the last.

Each one also got me hornier.

After locking my door (I had purchased a new door handle with a lock after my humiliating experience earlier that week), I flipped open my laptop and watched, muted… fuck her… a non-black cock bukkake as a British bride named Kate was deluged by a very special wedding shower.

And as I listened to Jenny getting really fucked, as usual I dildoed myself until I came… this time twice.

That evening, after I knew her BBC had gone, and she was making dinner, I ventured out and she asked, “Did you enjoy the show?”

“What is wrong with you?” I demanded.

“What do you mean?” she asked innocently.

“Having sex in our living room,” I answered, the question rather obvious I thought.

She smirked, “I was just letting you see a black cock up close and personal. He even offered if you ever wanted the real thing you could visit his frat.”

“Don’t talk about me with other guys,” I complained.

“Just trying to help,” she shrugged.

“”Why do you let yourself be used all the time?” I asked, trying a different approach.

“Nothing happens to me against my will,” she clarified.

I tried to make it as clear as I could. “But can’t you see how those men are objectifying you?”

“Because I let them fuck me?” she questioned.

“Because you let them use you,” I countered.

“Actually I’m the one using them,” she countered right back.

“Right,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m serious,” she said. “I control the situation. They fuck me, I get off, maybe they do too, they leave. No complex relationships, no obligations, no intimacy.”

“Can you even hear yourself?”

She shrugged, “Well, I enjoy myself….”

I could have ended it right there and probably should have, but a week of simmering anger burst out of me as I asked, my tone dripping with spite, “By being a whore to the patriarchy?”

“The what?” she asked, shaking her head.

“The patriarchy! The male-dominated society we are forced to live in,” I explained.

“You’re hilarious,” she laughed dismissively, “You’re the one judging me, not my men,”

“I’m trying to knock some sense into you,” I said. “You need to stand up for the rights of women!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she demanded, getting as exasperated with me as I was with her. “I’m a grown woman and I can have sex as many times as I want with as many people as I want! I thought women’s sexual freedom was one of the fucking goals of your oh-so-beloved ideology!”

“Of course it is,” I agreed. “It’s just that these men are using you.”

“Like I said, I’m the one using them,” she repeated. “Which makes me a pretty liberated female, if you ask me.”

“Being a slut isn’t liberation, it actually rolls the woman’s movement backwards and allows the patriarchy to remain in power,” I said, desperately trying to crowbar my message into her head.

“You should really listen to yourself,” she said. “The only one judging anyone here is you. I mean I’m not the one watching interracial porn where white women are used as cum rags. That doesn’t seem too feminist.”

“Fuck you,” I was left with, which was a pretty weak response, I know.

“Fuck me?” she questioned. “I do enjoy my fair share of fuckings thank you very much, and maybe you should try it too sometimes, so you could find some joy in your life and stop being this miserable little slut wannabe always talking down your nose to truly liberated women.”

“So I could turn out like you?” I questioned, snarly.

“Yes, so you too could become sexually liberated and contented,” she answered.

“Whatever,” I said, frustrated at how oblivious she seemed to be. I added, “For a smart girl, you can sure be dumb sometimes.”

“For a feminist, at least your version of what that means, your porn choices are pretty self-defeating,” she countered. She then added, “I’m not the pretentious one here, pontificating one way and behaving another.”

“Whatever,” I repeated, knowing this conversation wasn’t going anywhere. I slipped into a pair of heels and left the apartment.

….

When I returned that evening, having had time to calm down, I knocked on her door and called through it, “I’m sorry, Jenny. I have no right to judge you.”

She replied, “Come in.”

I walked in and gasped. She had her legs spread open and a naked girl was between them.

She smiled, “I figured I’d try a bit of feminism. I have to admit this does feel quite liberating.”

I stared at the girl between her legs, completely shocked.

“She’ll do you next if you want, won’t you Janet?” Jenna asked.The brunette raised her head from between Jenny’s legs, turned to study me for a moment and agreed, “Yeah, you’re cute.”

“Uh, thanks,” I said, as I turned and walked out even as Jenny ordered her, “Now get back to licking.”

Again, my pussy was on fire, and again I got myself off listening to my roommate have sex, and not for the first time grateful that our walls were so thin.

….

It was the next day, when I got home from class that I went to my computer and found a printed flyer lying next to it. Jenny must have brought it home from campus in case I wanted to attend something feminist or… once I looked more closely… invade the fucking enemy camp and create a huge disruption! This event looked horrible! It was called ‘Accept Your Place’ and was being held at a club called The Pit. It included a line drawing of a woman on her knees, wearing a collar and a leash and looking upwards with submissive devotion.