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Kim Lazenby's Resumé Ch. 02
By PrimalRoots
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I like to think of myself as a master of exploitation. Others will call me a bitch, a whore, or just plain evil. But my interference in the affairs of others is minimal; its victims further extend the problems I cause. Many solutions present themselves, but are neither explored nor realized. I feel no sympathy, and remain far from empathy. I only feel joy for every second of misery they experience. And the best part will always be the transition period; when they realize that the fun I gave them is becoming a great misfortune, and in some cases, a disaster.

Chapter 02 - The Insatiable Sorority

After graduation from high school, I continued my normal way of life sans the normal routine and plus a newfound and greatly exercised sexuality. My final summer was spent as my previous summers were: listening to new music and rarely leaving the house, especially now that part of my new routine included heavy masturbation. I spent the entire $500 that Lyle gave me for my work on my music collection: "Oh No" by OK Go, "Time to Pretend" by MGMT, and so on. Between albums I would think about one thing that led to something else which ultimately brought my mind to sex. Then came the orgasm.

Somehow, amidst every fingering, I never found my mind wandering to having sex myself. I always envisioned other people, never a man (or woman for that matter) pleasing me. I didn't find this strange until halfway through July when my business money had run dry. I found that I could multi-task: masturbate and listen to music at the same time, but only for albums I'd already heard. During that time, the realization had rammed into my mind that somehow I had formed a hypocrisy: I craved orgasm, yet I did not desire sex.

That's when I noticed the random pattern of my sessions and their inexplicable causes. Some women feel the need to masturbate when an attractive man teases at their sexuality and taunts their independence. Some women just masturbate when they feel the need to have sex. I, on the other hand, could feel the need anytime and anywhere without warning or cause. For example, after the revelation, I noticed that while I waited in line for the cash register at the grocery store, without any trigger, I felt the need to strip down and finger-fuck myself hard and fast. Then, when I was stuck in traffic, I actually did end up shoving a hand into my jeans and (admittedly) having one of the best orgasms of the summer.

It confused me to say the least. I felt no need for experimentation, no need for contact or reception. At last, I came to the conclusion that whether I wanted to or not, I would have to fuck someone to get it out of my system. I won't say that thought was my biggest mistake so far, but it most definitely makes the top ten list. This is the story of my second job; the only one so far that I've considered to be personal.


It's true what they say, there's a time and a place for everything and it's called college. Just a few months before the end of school I received my acceptance letter to West Virginia University, a notorious party school where Delta Gamma was about to join the roster upon my arrival.

I, like many others, did not know what I wanted my major to be, and for the time being I didn't care. I'd get through my general ed classes and make my decision eventually, but my focus became my now incredibly undesirable virginity.

On move in day, I met several people I'd rarely speak to again, and one girl in particular that I'd come to know too well. As I stowed my boxes of CDs underneath my bed, in came Helena Bucciarelli, a petite and intelligent looking freckled, jet black brunette. She wore thick-framed black glasses and held her shoulder-length hair in a ponytail with a cute floral scrunchy. She wore cute and reasonable length - but still tight-fitting - jean shorts and a figure-revealing spaghetti strap tank top. She looked both comfortable with her body and intelligent. She wore little makeup, had no tattoos, and looked delicate enough to break with just a hug.

"Oh, you must be Kimberly," she said in earnest genial tone.

I almost corrected her by telling her to call me Kim, but something told me I'd benefit from a small change, so I let her have it. "Yeah, you're Helena, right?"

"That's right! Glad to finally meet you." Helena seemed too nice. I knew that she was either incredibly nervous to be in college or she was hyped up on coffee or espresso. When we finished moving in, she and I sat down and got to know each other.

She presented herself openly, "I'm going to get my teaching credential for math. I like it, but there's no way I'm going to apply it to the real world, haha! So I figured I'd just teach it. How about you?"

"I'm not totally sure, but I'll figure it out at some point," I said casually.

"Are you going to pledge to any sororities?" she inquired. "I've been looking at a few but they're all pretty lame."

"I've never really been part of a group, but I guess I might check it out," I replied, shocked at my own open-minded attitude.

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