“Here’s your pencil back.” That smirk on the boy’s face had my heart racing. The eraser tip might as well have been the barrel of a loaded gun. My privates tingled from the memory of our fingers touching during the previous exchange. I thought I managed to pass off hunching over and bleating like a goat as menstrual pain, but this looked like bait.
“T-that’s OK, you can keep it.” I hesitated too long. I was already putting some distance between us, but I knew I had confirmed some suspicions. He can’t know about my skin condition specifically, unique as it is, but his curiosity is piqued and his experimentation will be the death of what little social life I allowed myself to have. I had been so careful until that point. Wearing gloves would be too suspicious, I always thought. They were never safe in my sleeves after all.
I whimpered a curse and pivoted on my heels. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Does it happen with everyone or is it just with me?” Yeah, I knew that he knew.
I had to think fast. Which secret is less likely to spread? “It’s never happened to me before.” Terrible idea but my judgment was still clouded from the orgasm tsunami that soaked my panties from a mere brush of fingers.
“Wow, this is some soulmate shit. My parents are out of town this weekend. I don’t mind if you come over. We can explore this connection we have.”
My internal screams nearly ruptured my eardrums. If I turned this boy down, he would suspect I lied. He’d ask one of his friends to touch my neck in class and everyone would know skin-to-skin contact floods my body with hormones and makes me come harder than a pornstar can fake.
I had to be this guy's girlfriend for now while hoping I was boring and unattractive enough for him to lose interest despite my inordinate enthusiasm for his touch.
I was sitting on a boy’s bed for the first time. Despite my hands safely tucked deep in my sleeves I still felt more exposed than the bikini girls on the walls.
His hand found my leg. I received the normal tingle of getting touched by a boy, but my jeans protected me from the unique and extreme reaction of Clara Syndrome named after yours truly.
Oh, no... we’re going to kiss... Complete paralysis. I was Ripley in Alien 3, cringing as the drooling xenomorph closed in on my cheek. The boy nudged my face by the chin with his finger and took advantage of the resulting moan to bury his tongue in my mouth.
I had never experienced anything like this. Accidentally touching a passing stranger was a debilitating experience that took a whole day to shake off. The amount of skin contact here, with lips against lips, a hand on my cheek, and another creeping up my shirt, supercharged my condition on a logarithmic scale. His hands were huge and, unfortunately, so are my breasts. His tongue was intent on identifying every taste bud on mine. I came harder than I thought was possible. I had been living my life thinking I was in a two-story house before discovering a secret elevator with 100 buttons. I came so hard I forgot to breathe for four straight minutes. And when I woke up, I was naked on the bed. The sheets I doubtlessly drenched had been removed.
“You lied to me. Your body reacts the same way with my friends. This isn’t true love, it’s a medical thing.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want anyone to know.” I curled into a ball. There were three boys in the room watching my nude body with lust and curiosity. It hurt to apologize to people who took advantage of my condition.
“How much do you know about your body? Because we did some experiments and I bet you’ll learn something new. Touching yourself doesn’t count —you probably knew that— but did you know that the orgasms are more intense if a more sensitive area is touched? It kinda makes sense, but not something you ever confirmed, right?”
“You made me flutter while I was unconscious?” I asked horrified, forgetting that ‘flutter’ is the word my mom and I use for accidental triggers. “Did you... did you touch me there?” I didn’t even have to point with my eyes; the ‘there’ was obvious.
“Hey, I had to know what I was dealing with since apparently I can’t believe anything you say. I tested with one finger. Just one. And you spasmed on the bed like a girl getting exorcised for like twenty minutes. It was crazy. Another interesting thing is that the stronger I push on your skin, the harder you cum. Going from a touch to a poke is like slamming the accelerator.
“I’d like my clothes back now, please.” The politeness was forced through gritted teeth.
“Why? You’ve hit the jackpot. You’ve got three guys here who want to make you scream and cream all night long. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding such an amazing body under your baggy clothes. I don’t know why you have it all twisted, but your condition is going to make you super popular. Every boy is going to want to be your friend.”
“I just want to go.” And never leave my house again.
“There’s one thing we wanted to try while you were unconscious but we didn’t because we’re nice. So I think it’s only fair if you have sex with us. Just one time each. Then our curiosity will be satisfied and we never have to talk to anyone about this if that’s what you want.”
“I’ll certainly nominate you for the Noble peace prize for not full-on raping the unconscious girl you stripped, groped, and fingered.” I knew this wasn’t my way out but I couldn’t my sarcasm any longer.
“OK, just a quick dip. In-and-out. Final offer. No one else in school needs to know about your mega-slut disease. No one needs to see the educational video we filmed while you were out of it.”
Fucking bastards. A video going viral would mean I couldn’t even start fresh in Mongolia. Everyone would want a poke at the 'cumming girl’ and this certainly wouldn't be my last kidnapping. “One dip,” I relented.
“Each.”
I gave a faint nod and tried my best not to creep away as the boy climbed his own sheetless bed, invading my personal space.
“You’re going to have to open up these legs a little bit,” he said. They were indeed clamped shut.
It wasn’t easy to convince my legs to move, but the wider I opened, the less exposed my thighs would be to incidental contact during whatever these horny assholes considered a dip. Almost in a split, head turned to the side, eyes closed, I waited for the completed transaction like a good little blackmailed bitch.
I could tell he was making an effort not to touch me as he climbed over my body, bobbing erection at the ready. Probably not for my benefit, the bastard didn’t want me to start squirming until his cock dropped anchor. His breath, his warmth, and his near-misses were phantom triggers I could barely fight off. “Remember to breathe,” I mumbled to myself over and over. Having my unconscious body violated (again) would be the only worse situation I could imagine.
Penetration happened fast. Something hot and throbbing pressed against my vulva, a guiding hand sunk into my inner thigh, and a bulbous rod broke through the tightness of my pussy, instantly re-drenching itself.
As promised, the boy barely moved his dipped cock, but only because he didn’t have to. The contact area of a large sausage in a tight canal combined with the sensitivity of the parts involved had me masticating his cock with vaginal spasms while squirming under his body weight. The experience seemed to bring him unparalleled pleasure, not unlike my own.
“I couldn’t pull out if I wanted to. She’s squeezing me too tight,” he said, perhaps truthfully. “This is amazing.”
I remembered to breathe, somehow, but my inhales were passionate gasps and my exhales were moans of ecstasy. If the kiss made me think of the skyscraper analogy, sex made me discover I was actually living in a fucking space elevator. And when the boy wrapped himself around my arched body, squishing my breasts with his chest, licking my tonsils with his tongue, and squeezing my ass with his mitts, I broke out of the goddam galaxy.
And I wish I could say full body contact, french kiss, and balls-deep penetration was the worst my condition could get. I never even considered that organic material could take on a liquid form and invade every cranny of my pussy. Even in my drooling, debilitated state, I instantly felt the swimming human cells poking my most sensitive areas with their head and whipping them with their tails. I came while I came, and I forgot to breathe again.
As I awoke panting in a bed-spanning wet patch, still twitching like I was covered in active electrodes, a recessed terror had me by the neck, whispering degrading insults in my ear. My real fear had never been to get caught, to become a laughingstock, a guinea pig. No, the real nightmare was coming true: the fear of enjoying a sensation I’m genetically programmed to crave. To fall for the allure of dark pleasure that need not be fleeting. To kill Clara as we know her, and from her corpse summon the biggest slut to ever walk this Earth.
“Who’s next,” I managed to moan, painfully forcing my legs wider despite my lack of flexibility. This time, it was to wrap them around a random guy's back. I didn’t have to wait long for someone to accept the invitation. And there I went again, stoking the flames of my already deep-fried brain with more groping, kissing, and fucking. Even while already having a bigger orgasm than any woman in history, I couldn’t wait for more sperm to kick off the next level.
The evening went on and I never said ‘stop’. Never said ‘Hey, haven’t you gone... four times before?’ I just milked those cocks and came and came. Harder and harder, as if always trying to break my personal record.
I’m the one who suggested they all go at once. Can you believe that? I didn’t care that it might send me into some feverish coma I’d never return from. My desperately addicted ass just wanted more contact.
But let me tell you, when you’re on top of a boy trying to rub against every inch of skin, and another boy leans on your back, squeezes your tits from behind, and sticks his cock up your tight butt deep enough that his crotch presses hard again your cheeks, you swear to yourself never to settle for single penetration ever again. In the fire of the greatest orgasm I could achieve, this was my rebirth.
At least until my next rebirth... That's when my throat was forced around a third cock with a belly pressed against my face and testicles against my chin. Three guys coming inside me at the same time is a high I knew I’d be chasing my whole life.
So yeah, that boy and his friends kept their promise. I’m the one who told everyone at school. I posted the video on every major porn site. I’m the one responsible for the massive locker room gangbangs at lunchtime. I’m the one who’s happy to follow any man home as long as he promises to keep all my holes plugged and filled with the help of his friends. I want to be famous. I want a line of a hundred people waiting for this roller coaster. Clara hated her life. I love life so much that I’m eternally thankful for my nervous system slowing down my perception of time when I cum. I can have a month-long orgasm only to be told five minutes have passed and the next trio of gangbangers are ready fuck me up again.
Now that you know my story, please find out where I am and come touch me, even if it’s just jerking off on my face. I promise; no one will ever appreciate you as much as I will.
