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Stoned

By on August 31, 2015
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A59 stoned
Was this really happening? Is it ok to lose your virginity on Shabbat? I thought. I had wanted to lose my virginity for a long time. Once it was gone, I could just move on with my life. And with Jake! He was so hot. I could tell everyone tomorrow. Then I wondered if there was anything to munch on in the kitchen.

I remember thinking I could really go for a Snickers bar as he thrust himself inside of me. It hurt. It took him three tries to get in. And then his eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re a virgin?” he said, holding my face between his hands and kissing my eyelids and my cheeks and then my lips, as though now he realized he should be more tender, make this more special for me, or something like that.

“Yeah, whatever. Just do it,” I said, and stared out the window again. The stars were getting a bit fuzzy, the room swaying. Or was that me? He was up on his elbows thrusting, pecking kisses at my lips and grinning wildly, looking, well, looking as stoned as I felt. It felt good after a while. I started to moan and thrust my hips back up at his. I reached my arms up, tangled my fingers in his hair, and pulled him down for a kiss. Then he groaned and I felt him spasm and contract inside of me, his face grimacing in ecstasy.

He pulled out and I was cold and a bit wet. I shivered. He kissed me on my forehead and I pulled the comforter up and tucked it under my chin. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m just going to clean myself up in the bathroom.” I nodded, then I must have passed out.

When I woke up the next morning I had no idea where I was. Jake’s zebra striped comforter was wound around me like a cocoon, but I wasn’t in his room. Fuck. Where was I? I blinked my eyes a few times and tried to get my bearings. Shit. I was asleep on the red frat house sofa. Naked. Wrapped in Jake’s comforter. I could see the frat boys in the kitchen making breakfast. Fuck! Had I missed Torah reading? The room smelled like puke.

As I got up and managed to inelegantly disentangle myself from the comforter, make my way to the bathroom, throw up, find Jake’s room and my clothes, I could hear the chuckles from the kitchen. I could feel their eyes on my naked form. Jake wasn’t even in his room. As I made my way to the door of the frat house, past the leering eyes in the kitchen, I heard one of them call out to me. “He had to make minyan!”

Another one said, “Don’t take it too harshly chica, he doesn’t like to share…not even a bed!” and then the hooting laughter began. I cried all the way back to my dorm room. The walk of shame had never felt more shameful. I didn’t even show up for Shabbat lunch at the Hillel House.

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Staff writer and editor at Jewrotica, Karalyn Dane is a poet and a novelist with a penchant for beer and unusual vegetables. She may or may not live out the many fantasies that she writes about on this site.
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