13 Things We Would Never Say Out Loud


I lost my virginity to a fan. I'm not proud of that, and other than the boys, and of course, the fan I lost my virginity to, nobody has any idea.

Or maybe she doesn't know I was a virgin. I wish.

Becoming so famous at such an early age is hard. Suddenly, everything you do is amazing. I was always doubly petrified that my voice would crack while singing live AND I would mess up the choreo (I always mess up the choreo), and it got worse as people would say what a beautiful voice I had, and would find my mess ups "cute." Everywhere you go, people knew who you were. Especially girls. Young girls. Older girls. Pretty girls.

It was hard to relax, to do normal things like buy a present for your mom at the mall, or shoot hoops in your neighborhood gym, or get tanned at the beach, or go drinking at a bar. Those music videos of ours where we do these ordinary things? We only do those ordinary things for the music video. If we wanted to go drinking at a bar like normal 20 year olds, we would have to pick dingy bars in unsafe areas, places nobody visits, places none of our fans would be at. Places for old geezers who don't watch MTV.

Andre and Rob of a boyband who debuted a few years ahead of us took me to a bar once upon a time; it was really seedy, and some guys drinking there seriously looked like hit men on a break. Andre wanted to play pool, but all the pool tables were taken, so he asked a group of girls dominating one table if he could join the game. They said yes, of course. They knew who we were, but were acting all cool, like this happens every day. They were older than us, they looked like they had more experience in the ways of the world, and not screaming all the time like our teenaged fans.

I was 19.

I don't remember her name, but she was older than me. Maybe 26, or so. I remember this because I kept thinking oh wow, that's so old, but she didn't seem like she was so old. I mean, her skin was still okay, not pruning up or sagging. I don't know what I thought 26 would look like at 19, and I know now that I'm a dufus for thinking it would be centuries apart. At the time, it felt really wrong that I was 19 and she was 26. Which of course is what made the sex awesome.

Well, there were other things. She knew what to do; unlike me, she was not a virgin and she had very specific ideas of how she wanted it. I was very grateful to follow her lead. And since it was my first time, obviously I would think it was the best thing ever. Everything felt like wow.

She took me to her apartment, which she shared with a couple other girls who were out busy with lord knows what at 3 in the morning. Andre and Rob went home with a girl each, so it just felt like the thing to do. Plus, I didn't have a ride back to the dorm and wouldn't know how to sneak back in without getting in trouble.

She admitted that she was a fan of ours, and followed me around, and always wondered what I would say if she worked out a strategy to talk to me and suggested to take me to her place. She said she didn't know I was going to be at that bar that night; her other friends were Code Red fans and were stalking Rob and Andre, but my being there too seemed like a sign from the universe. She told me this while giving me my first ever hand job, stopping in mid sentence to sigh over how big I was. I was so flattered that I fucked her brains out.

I spent the next three months on edge about this leaking to the press, that she would say something to someone and it would explode and my career would be over. But I never heard from or saw her again. Still, I did my best to be inconspicuous when we did publicity. I didn't engage fans in conversation like the others often did. Although I would smile a lot, I never focused on their faces, worried always that I would see her again and would have to acknowledge knowing who she was. I tried to stay out of the spotlight during TV guestings. I would reply with nonsense during interviews so that the only thing that can be said of my personality is I make jokes a lot. I let the others talk. Jamie is the smartest and the wittiest and has the best interview answers. Mark likes to talk, even if he sometimes only repeats what Jamie says in detail. Steve has always been good at reacting to what the others are saying and commenting with witty burns so that the interview is more memorable. LJ has started doing that also. At our last interview, I said one of my not-answering-the-question answers, and LJ said to the MC, "I'm sorry, but you should know by now never to take Burt seriously." We all cracked up and laughed for the next fifteen minutes as Steve, Mark and Jamie all picked up from there and enumerated idiotic responses I've said in the past and then the time ran out and the interview was over. The MC's question was, "Who is your ideal type?"

Finally, home.

The lights in the foyer and the dining room were still on, waiting for me to get home, ensuring I don't trip on anything as I make my way to the bedroom. I turned the front hall lights off, and the lights for outside the house. I pass through the den and pick up a firetruck from the floor, setting it down on the couch as I continue walking.

I go around the long way to look in on Billy's room. He was fast asleep, holding a police car in his tiny hands. He still needed his night light, apparently, the dim purple glow washing his angelic face. I closed the door as carefully and quietly as I could.

I switched off the dining room light and entered my bedroom.

I took a shower. I stood under the hot spray for a while, with my eyes closed, trying to gauge if I was tired or if I was very tired. I rubbed my face hard. Even if I took all the makeup off before leaving the stadium, it still felt like it was there, the most uncomfortable feeling. I rubbed my eyes, convinced I still had eyeliner on. I teared up a bit, that shit is painful.

I dried myself with a towel and walked straight to bed. The curled form didn't move as I joined her under the blanket. My hands snuck around her to close around her breasts under her shirt as I buried my face into her neck. She woke up as I moved my hand down to cup her pussy.

"Mmmmm, dollface, you're home," Michelle finally turned to face me and started to take her clothes off. I kissed her deeply, because it was something I had wanted to do all night but couldn't. I forcefully pulled her panties down, because she was moving too slowly, and grabbed her again. My fingers smoothly pushed into her soft folds, imploring her to wake up. I figured that I was tired, not very tired, but tired enough not to want extensive foreplay. As soon as I felt her juices start to flow on my fingers, I took them out and rammed myself in.

"Oh baby," Michelle gasped, her eyes shutting tight, "You're... so... big..."

"Mmmm," I groaned against her neck and proceeded to fuck her brains out.

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