Brunette Sex Stories: Courtneys Wild Night Out

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One day I had been in the process of being beaten up when a group of 7 boys came up and told everyone to leave me alone. They did, and I was able to finish off highschool without bullies. And then after I graduated in , I went into rehab and got myself clean and then landed a job where I have been happily working since There are women who look down on others who dress a certain way or the way they talk. When I was 10, I gathered all the courage to go talk to this boy I liked. Before I could start, he slapped me right across my face.


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I was roughly 13 when I was asked to play defense and we opted man-on-man because why not. As we started playing, a player from the opposing team came up to me and grabbed my boobs. He was my senior. I was scared and didn't speak of it until a few years back. I've also been slut-shamed for being very open and flirtatious. I've been berated by a lot of men for being a certain way.

Why is it only the women who are open and bold get laid? This guy would always pass lewd comments about me right to my face, like "Your face looks like shit. You're a fucking shit face, you're so black. Because I'm apparently giving out hints that I'm available and I'm all for you. Really, the other day I was fully clothed, and I was stalked and was looked upon in an obscene sort of way. According to the survey conducted in Britain, which happens to record one of the highest numbers of rapes before India, asked a bunch of rapists what makes you want to rape a woman?

They subtly replied that when women let their hair down, it makes them want to rape women. Now we should just shave our heads, right? I could go on about various other events that happened but I'm not ready. I peel my scabs because of it. They don't even say my name anymore. This entry includes references to self-harm and sexual assault. I have been sexual bullied for 4 years now. It still hurts. I'm only 17 and I'm considered "easy," "a bitch," and "a hoe. I cringe every time I hear it. Boys always ask me for boob and butt pics.

I feel worthless. I feel as if I'm stalked, as well as if anything could happen to me. I've been told I'm going to die a slut. During the visit I was wasted, I was high. I then blacked out, I came to and I was naked. I had done something I wouldn't want to do. I was 10 years old when me and my family had to move to a city for better education.

I had met a few friends. We would sneak alcohol and drugs such as marijuana. It got to a point where I wanted to feel as badass as them. So I picked up the bottle, and I smoked what we could get. All my allowance that could have been for cool clothes and a nice haircut went to drugs. When I ran out I was no longer a part of the circle of friends. I was considered "cut". Soon it turned into monkey see, monkey do. I lost my virginity at age 14, to a sixteen year old boy whose girl friend would later confront me about being with him.

I made up my mind and had left him. I was once at a party, 15? And I had gotten really drunk. A big fight started happening, and a friend had told me we could sit at her boyfriend's house. On our way to his house in a vehicle I was offered three double stacked ecstasy pills, all at once. I'm 21 now and the friend still won't "let it go". A part of me says she won't because I know she's done stuff too, and she's making me feel like that to make herself seem better. I'm back in my hometown, and I never felt so comfortable, I realize the people in my home town are family. When I think it's only me who has been through this, it's probably happened before.

I am just so blessed to get out of that healthy and alive. God bless those people who accept everyone. This kid started rumors about me. He said that I "liked" about 8 different people and so people at my school started thinking I was a slut. This entry includes references to violence. When I was in seventh grade, I met this boy. I'll say his name was Stephen. Stephen was an eighth grader and I soon fell for him. Stephen had a lot of friends and he was what you would consider "popular. He and his best friends, Stephen 2 yes, they had the same name and Frank, talked to me nearly every day and my extremely boring life soon became exciting.

Something new every day. I thought everything was great. I had tons of friends, and Stephen still didn't know I liked him, so he continued to talk to me. Just about at the start of the new year, Stephen stopped talking to me. Stephen 2 and Frank talked to me often still and so did Stephen's other friends, but I was scared that Stephen had found out.


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  • Just before Christmas break, in fact a week and day before, my friend Katelyn, without my permission, told Stephen that I liked him. He said he figured it out already. I was crushed. Every day, I went on as normal. Nobody knew, but I was crushed on the inside.

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    On the day after my 13th birthday, Stephen messaged me on Instagram a long, and very detailed, paragraph on why I should leave him alone. He liked another 8th grade girl, let's say her name is Amelia, and she liked him back. The message explained that. As time went on, this kid Jack started rumors about me. He said that I liked about 8 different people and so people at my school started thinking I was a slut. I only liked Stephen though, and this was really difficult for me. Zack didn't go to my school and I never met him, but he was friends with Stephen and all of Stephen's friends.

    I began to have a crush on Zack and I had my friend Hana text Stephen that. He was surprised, but though none of my friends knew, I still liked Stephen a lot. Just a few days after Hana told Stephen that I liked him, things started to get out of hand. Someone I didn't know messaged me to let them into my group chat with Jack, a girl named Violet, and a boy named Liam and said if I didn't then he would get me.

    Thinking it was not a big deal, I let him into the group chat and he said he stalked all of us. We thought he was joking so we went on as usual and then it got weird. The day after he was let into the chat, he attacked Jack. He went to Jack's house and physically attacked him. Then he sent all of our phone numbers out and all of our addresses into the chat and he said he was coming for Violet next. At that point, we were freaked out so Jack called the police.

    They said they would try and track the guy down and we were trying to stay calm. A day later, the guy found out who I liked and he spread it through the school, making me seem like an even bigger slut because he said I "stalked" Zack on Instagram. The rest of my school year was hell. Me, Jack, Violet, and Liam had to be questioned by the police and it was crazy. The next year I went to a different middle school for the 8th grade so I got away from it, but I will never forget that year.

    When I had the guts to tell my friends what happened, they believed me but made fun of me for it.

    The British Invasion

    I was labelled a slut and a whore. This entry includes a description of sexual assault. I wasn't like most popular kids in my school. But I was still fairly popular. I had come terms to my sexuality and I was damn confident in my own skin. But you see, sex talk doesn't mix with teenagers in a Catholic school, except for maybe older students I was a freshman back then. And when you're sexually promiscuous, someone was bound to find out.

    I've heard of students getting kicked out for being blackmailed to send nudes to boys, I've heard of stories where a drunk girl was forcefully fingered in the bathroom. I've even heard of stories where students were raped. And I thought maybe they were just dark stories, created to shut down the slut shaming the people involved had been receiving. Everything changed one day.

    Four Stories After A Wild Night Out

    I was practicing with a group of friends at the back of the school, by the swimming pool. We weren't high nor drunk, we were sober back then. It all started when a guy who had been part of my past crushes told me "I look seductive," while I was singing the song Trouble by Halsey.

    I didn't mind it at first, one of my friends let's call her May , even laughed at the guy. I looked at May and just shook my head. But then, the guy said "What if you give May a lap dance? That'd be so hot. It didn't seem like one, so I stormed out of the place and sat underneath the shade of a tree it was still pretty near.

    But then out of the blue, the guy was standing in front of me. I stood up, knowing that he was probably sent to fetch me back, but as I was about to go. He grabbed a hold of my hand and pushed me to the trunk of the tree. His body was larger than me and he was taller, and I couldn't do anything, his face was a few feet away from mine and his fingers were roaming, and I was so repulsed. I told him to stop but he didn't. And when I finally thought it was over, I saw two of my close friends standing behind debris from an old building, and they couldn't look at me in the eye, and I couldn't take it.

    I looked at the guy and I wanted to vomit and he just looked at like he was satisfied that he took away my virginity, and then I ran. The next days I couldn't sleep, I couldn't do anything. Seniors were talking about it. I was angry, because they started calling me a slut, they started offering money so I could blow them. I was angry that the school administration didn't find out because it was everybody's little secret. The guy controlled everyone in my class, and when I had the guts to tell my friends what happened, they believed me but made fun of me for it.

    The witnesses - the two friends who saw me - didn't want to talk. It ruined me because every time I broke down, they would tell me to get over it because it was my fault anyways. If it wasn't for my sensual vibe, that people wouldn't get the idea that I was still a virgin.

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    That I wouldn't be called a slut. After a few weeks, our Christmas Party required that every girl would wear a dress, not less than two inches above the knee. Mine was three inches below the knee, and when I finally thought nobody would bother, our class picture was spammed with comments, slut shaming me for wearing a dress. My friends sided with the hate, because if I covered myself up nobody would think differently.

    And that is where I learned that even if you wear pants, you could still be called a slut. The people who insist there's a right way women should act are just controllers, and I can't let them run my life. We shouldn't let them run our lives. I have been slut shamed on FB for flirting with guys and saying they're sexy.

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    I've heard of this happening to other women too. They'll say you're being a creep, or would you tolerate a guy treating a woman this way. I feel a lot of it is women shaming women for having any sexual feelings. Like policing other women's sexuality, for what reason, I don't know. Is it they feel threatened by women who own their sexuality, or women who just make more friends with guys than girls?

    If someone said back off I'll back off but it's never just that. It's usually some sort of accusation of being too sexual like, the last time it was, "Stop saying you want to bang my boyfriend! I do have a problem with taking things too personally, and they may have just decided to randomly go after me. I think the worst thing is it's made me fearful of being friends with other women and trusting them.

    It seems they get a boyfriend and just go ballistic on every women they know. I really get upset at the thought of hurting anyone, but I think I need to start realizing in this situation the only thing I can do is leave. It's strange how this happens so often to guys yet if a man treated his girlfriend in a way like saying she can't have any contact with other guys everyone would be mad. Of course there's all the stuff generally about men being abused by women and people not caring.

    I think what troubles me is I try to see it from their perspective, and all I can think is how can they hurt their partner like this? If you worry your guy is unfaithful talk to him about it. I mean I know abusers are about isolation, and most likely they're trying to isolate him. But maybe they're scared.

    I just know I'm tired of losing guy friends to this. I also know I need to stop believing if I act right this won't happen. Why should someone feel they need to apologize for wanting to make someone happy? By talking about it, by airing my wounds, I feel like I can heal instead of fester. We met on Facebook through a mutual friend. We bridged the distance by sending intimate pictures and I didn't think much of it because we were planning to meet and it helped keep the relationship going. Besides I had done it with other relationships I had been in and it hadn't been an issue.

    When I was finally about to fly out and meet him, it just didn't work out and I assumed we had left on good terms. After all, he was seeing someone else and posting her pictures on Facebook about a month later. I was genuinely happy for him and hoped everything worked out. We eventually got out of touch and I didn't think much of him until a little over a year later, when a co-worker pulled me aside and asked if some pictures he found were mine.

    Little did I know, my pictures I had sent him had been posted online. I was horrified. What was even more horrific was another co-worker that I hadn't worked with in years also tracked me down to inform me my pictures were online. We weren't even stationed together - he was stationed in Japan at the time. I went to the JAG legal advocate and he was basically no help. The guy that had posted the pictures was part of a sex scandal at Lackland and as a parting gift when he was discharged, he posted the pictures. The most we could do was go through the humiliating process of requesting the pictures be taken off the site.

    I wanted to believe the nightmare was over - but on sites like reddit and imgur where the pictures were posted there is a "like, comment and share" function like on Facebook. It had been shared over 20 times. It was only a matter of time before my pictures resurfaced.

    And they did a little over a year later, when a guy I went through a military course with found them on another site. And then another 6 months later a stranger found me through Facebook to inform me about the pictures again It was affecting my personal life. I was wonderIng if life was worth living. It was never like this event was a single fixed point in my life that I couldn't walk away from. I was afraid of pursuing job opportunities for fear of how I'd look if someone had seen my pictures. I was always on edge when I worked with people because I never knew if my professionalism was overshadowed because someone had seen my pictures online.

    I've been in a dark place for a long time, hiding my dirty little secret. It feels so hopeless because it'll never go away. It's always out there and even if it's buried, it just takes someone finding them, deciding to make the pictures their own and posting them on a site to make them new again. There is no such thing as "old news" with this. I finally decided that it was enough. The military has a sexual assault awareness and prevention program and I talked to the coordinator.

    I needed to get it out. I've shared my story for them to use and I'm working on becoming a trainer. I believe in the power of the word. I still have bad days. I still feel worthless. I have to dig deep some days to find my worth. It's hard to let people get close and it's very difficult to have meaningful personal relationships with men. Some days I'm so angry my pictures are passed around like playing cards - on "for pay" sites It makes me soooo angry.

    But I can't live that way. I have to make the decision that life is worth living. I can change this by taking ownership of it and make something positive out of it for myself. It doesn't have to consume me. Slowly but surely I can make this right for me. People to this day call me a slut and bully me because of the actions that happened in middle school. This entry includes references to self-harm. When I was in seventh grade at Mt.

    Abraham Union middle and high school, I decided to send a nude to a guy I really liked. I didn't think anything of it because I knew the guy since I was a baby. We were very close. Surprisingly enough, he didn't send it to his friends or to anyone. He also never said a word about to it anyone. What started the whole slut shaming and bullying towards me was my best friend who I grew up with. I told her because after I sent it I regretted it and didn't know what to do. Instead of keeping it to herself, she told my mom.

    Who told her friends and such. By the next day, people were calling me a slut and more. It got to the point where I would slice my wrists, my thighs, and more. I just wanted to die. I went from being a straight A student to never wanting to go to school. In 8th grade, I eventually moved to South Royalton, Vermont. Even though I moved, I kept in touch with friends down in Bristol, Vermont and such.

    I went back down to go to some friend's house. While there, I was getting dressed and she took a picture of my breasts. I never looked back or went back unless it was to see family. Since I reported it, I have realized that I will never give anyone the power to hurt me that way ever again. This entry includes reference to rape. I was 14, dating this 17 year old, and we were hanging at my house for April vacation back in We had never sex before but we had done other stuff and he had a background of being forceful with me, and I just didn't expect anything bad to happen to ME.

    I went to take a shower and I was so vulnerable and I went a year thinking that it was all my fault because I was not wearing anything and I wasn't tough enough to fight him off. He raped me and we never talked about it to this day. I have had a criminal case pending on him but nothing has happened and we have gotten no further in 5 months. This entry includes references to sexual assault. I would like to share my story of sexual abuse from my father, my 4th grade teacher, and other men!

    What I am most passionate about is finding my voice. The journey it took to get here and now wanting to help others. I was sexually molested by my father from infancy to 12 years of age. The most traumatic time was being groomed and abused by my 4th grade teacher at the same time my dad was molesting me. The shame started when my body started to change and develop. How confused I was not knowing what was happening as men would whistle and make comments to me about my body. SO confused and I had nowhere to turn or anyone to talk to.

    It makes sense now that I didn't. After years of counseling, medications to stabilize me, and estrangement from my family of origin I began to find my voice. I began to see why I was silenced and had no idea why these strange feelings were happening to me at such a young age and how much I blocked out. What I did do at an early age was numb with alcohol and I would feel a rush getting attention from men and yet feeling very unattractive. I feel I am one of the lucky ones. I did get herpes from an older gentleman when I was in my 20's, and I also had an affair on my husband early on in my marriage.

    I needed to feel and express myself and yet didn't know why. It has been one hell of a long road back to me. I love the 54 year old woman I am today and stand proud in my journey and all the work I have done. But I am saddened by the shame and the confusion sexual abuse and assault brings. I am sick that survivors speak out to their abusers and more times than not you are not heard or the abuser denies it. This shame comes at a great cost.

    My family aunts, uncles, siblings, parents, cousins have chosen to deny that my dad and mom would ever do such a thing. The grief of losing my family has been the most difficult thing I have ever endured. I stand proud today in my marriage, knowing who I am, full of confidence, wisdom and strength. Thank you for this incredible project and documentary.

    The rumors began that I was the professor's little slut and that I slept with him to get good grades. No one would believe that he drugged and raped me. This entry includes a description of rape. Well I never thought I would be sharing this with anyone, but I feel like it's finally time. So it was my freshman year of college and I was so excited to be away from home and on my own.

    Everything was great for the first few months and I even made a lot of new friends. However it wasn't meant to be. I am a Political Science major and my government professor was younger, maybe in his early thirties, and he was super nice to all of his students. Well sometimes I would come in and go over notes after class and we became closer. After going to him privately for maybe three weeks, the first incident occurred. He was standing next to me and I was leaning over his desk reading a few sections of notes when he rubbed his hand against my upper thigh. I didn't react much because I was deep in thought, so he proceeded to grab my butt.

    When he did that I kinda jumped and he just had a smirk on his face before telling me all my notes were good and dismissing me. After that I felt uncomfortable but not too worried. If only I knew what was going to happen next. Maybe two weeks later he sent me an email and wanted me to come to his personal office to go over an assignment I had turned in. I arrived at 6pm like he had asked me to and took a seat across from him. We talked for awhile before he got up and offered me a drink. I was thirsty so I said sure.

    Not even 10 minutes after drinking the water did I begin to feel tired and weak. Then he made his move. He came up behind me and grabbed my chest and began to kiss my neck. I tried to push him off but couldn't. Next thing I remember he was pulling off my panties and bending me over his desk. Then he raped me. I woke up half naked the next morning outside his office. I tried to hurry back to my dorm but enough people saw me.

    The rumors and lies became too much, so I transferred schools. Life is better now and I'm a junior in college. I am having a great time, but will never be able to forget what happened to me freshman year. The first time I was assaulted, I was eleven. With my friend's family, waiting to pick her up from a trip. We stayed the night at their friend's house. The dad and his friend watched me and the two younger girls get ready for bed. Asked me to take off my top and talked about my breast development and body. That night, we three girls were in bed together and the friend came in and molested me with his hands and fingers.

    It hurt and I was terrified. Pretended to be asleep, told myself he was like a doctor, pinched my bed mate as hard as I could to try and wake her. After he told me that if I told anyone he would kill my parents. In the morning when I left, he was sleeping in a sleeping bag on the living room floor and gave me a significant mean stare. I did not tell. I sometimes think I know who he is. I do not. That he now lives in my hometown. I want to ask his wife if they used to live by the playground in Vale. I am triggered by seeing the person I suspect. If I knew for sure I do not know exactly what I would do.

    My youngest daughter is eleven. I don't really have any hopes for this submission, just that I can get something off my chest that is hounding me night and day. I was at camp when I was I had been to the camp twice before and was looking forward to a few weeks away from home. There was a boy there that didn't quite fit in. On the first day he approached me and asked if I would go out with him. I said no, and assumed that that was that.

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    The next day he came back again with a drawing of me, a pornographic drawing. I was alarmed, and turned to my friend for help. I was told that he had a mental disability that prevented him from understanding others' feelings and wishes, so I let him off the hook temporarily. Soon he started following me around, yelling to me about my beauty even when I asked him to stop.

    Two weeks in, my best friend there left, and I was alone. I told the counsellors there that I was not comfortable being around him, and they shared my concerns. He had brought a knife with him, and on the first night threatened possibly jokingly to kill himself and others. He creeped on other younger girls, and bullied the few out LGBT kids.

    One day he cornered me and jumped on me. He managed to hold me down and take my running shorts off before I kicked him hard enough to wind him. He grabbed a sharp stick and tried to stab me with it, so I took a large rock and smashed it against his head. I tried to kill him. He ran away. I tried to tell someone, anyone, but I didn't have the vocabulary or knowledge to describe the attack or its motives.

    After that day, my panic attacks I had been having as a result of fear of him got worse. I couldn't breathe or speak, so I spent a lot of time lying face down on the nurse's cot. I was so afraid that he would try again, and that he would succeed. The worst part is that I don't know if I can blame him. He clearly did not understand my fervent 'NO' to mean get off. But I sure as hell do not blame myself. I've only told two people, any more and I remember too much. I've always prided myself in being a strong independent woman, so I can't talk or think about my assault.

    Dirty Love Rebecca Sommers. John Tucker Must Die Lori. Scream 3 Sarah Darling. Show all 6 episodes. Jenny McCarthy. Show all 8 episodes. Sylvia Arculin. Six voice. Show all 13 episodes. Mandi Radnor. Holly Spears. Candy LaRue. Mitzy Stillman. Covergirl uncredited. Gretchen Bix. Marlo Kelly. Amber Beamis. Jenny McMillan. Show all 17 episodes. April Morella. Show all 15 episodes. Show all 29 episodes. Herself - Panelist. Show all 10 episodes. Herself - Guest. Show all 7 episodes. So I wrote this for a certain author on here that goes by Geograpicallycorrect, her birthday was about a week ago.

    So here is my late birthday present for you, happy birthday girl! Courtney Cortez had been working on AP Calculus homework for the past thirty minutes, this also included makeup work from when she was out last week from when she a really high fever. Her parents were once again out due to working overtime at their law office so it was only Courtney and her cat, Lucy. Courtney's phone started going off, she picked up her phone that read, ' Duncan :3'. Courtney groaned in response, she had told him many times to not bother her tonight. She needed to catch up on work and had no time to take any breaks no matter how much she secretly wanted too.

    She let out a deep sigh before answering. Courtney face palmed herself, you could a billion sticky notes on him with big, bold letters to something and he still won't listen. Courtney rolled her eyes in annoyance and got up to let him in. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. Duncan chuckled. Before he had a chance to kiss her, she pushed him away. Duncan's calloused hands grabbed Courtney's little tan ones and started rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. The delinquent scoffed.

    Their routine was usually argue, have sex, then cuddle and talk. He lightly pressed his lips onto her mango flavored lips. Once she gave in and started kissing back, he scooped her up and lied her on her bed and got on top of her. His hands started to roam her curvy body as their make out session started to get a bit more heated. They both paused to take their shirts off before continuing their heated session, Duncan's hands continued to run his hands down her curves with occasional squeezing of her breast's while Courtney ran her hands over his well-toned chest and abs.

    Duncan's hands soon reached back to his girlfriend's bra and unhooked it, revealing her perfectly round D-cup breasts. Even after a year of having sex with her, the punk still couldn't help but drool over the site of his busty girlfriend's rack. He quickly took one nipple in his mouth and started to gently nip at it while his hand started to fondle with the other one until it turn into a tight little bud. Courtney let out a moan as her hands wrapped around Duncan's neck. She lightly started to scratch the back of his neck and slowly moved up until her hand started to massage his scalp, something that drove The Delinquent crazy.