She let one finger slowly draw its way up from the puckered sphincter ring of her anus to her trembling red nub of her clitoris. Stan's white semen is still lying deep in my stomach, she thought, trying desperately to feel the overwhelming, inundating sordidness and dirty anguish that she had believed she should feel. But the more she dwelled on the episode, the more her whirling mind replayed the dizzy climb – starting from when Stan had put his arm around her in Vic's car. The drinking, the new sensation of marijuana, the heavy musk in the air as the other couples sank into their world of writhing, naked, pagan passion, up… up to where she was watching her girl-friend abandonly making love with her boyfriend while Stan kissed her firm, hard-nippled breasts and let his hand tease its way into her vaginal slit, her pink lips and clitoral bud and moist, quivering cunt mouth… and the lewd sight of his huge, blood-swollen penis moving into her virginal pussy, the shock of immediate pain… and then the breaking of her hymen and his merciless sawing back and forth while the pleasure drove her nearly insane.

How could she lie here now and even admit that she had liked it? But she had! The revelation that she had liked it, had liked the attention from Stan, had liked the comradeship from the others – all this bothered her more than the smaller amounts of guilt her upbringing still made her feel. Yes, I… like it, and… and oh God, I want it again. I want to cum with Stan's cock in me. She must be sick, must be a juvenile delinquent and pervert for having no true shame for her actions, but only an emptiness inside her belly which was crying for more. Her body had not only betrayed her, but was forcing her to search out for further indecencies. Tears of humiliation cascaded down her cheeks in a tiny waterfall of self-incrimination.

Slowly, like an automaton, she rose and began to dress. Heaped in one corner were her soiled, even ripped clothes; souvenirs of last night's debauched party.