Paul McCartney (OneShots)

The Deal (1/3)

Being a fifteen-year-old teenaged girl going through crazy hormones and suddenly having tits is one thing but being known as the slag of the year is something completely else. I wouldn't mind if it was true, but it isn't.

John, the fucking idiot, who is two years older and starting college or whatever, asked me once to give him a blowjob. I said no since I had no interest in him at all and the last thought on my mind was to give him any sort of pleasure.

So, what did he do? No, he definitely didn't be a respectable man and take it like one. He decided to tell everyone that I was a slag, that I had done it with older men and had contracted some disease and was trying to give it to him. Great, thanks John, see you next Monday.

Now, even if I did find someone I liked and wanted to go the extra step, that would never be possible thanks to Lennon.

I have had sex before but ONCE. It was my first time and with someone my OWN age. I'm not obsessed with it like all the other girls who are hellbent on getting boyfriends just to pop their cherries. Honestly, I'm the last person who should be called a slag.

So, that's basically the backstory. Apart from Paul McCartney who is John's best mate and also a prick who is definitely a virgin and in no way affecting my life whatsoever. He plays the guitar or something I think, I don't know. The most I know about him is that his mother died. I mean, I can relate to that. I lost my mother at a young age but at least I'm trying to do her proud.

So, now you know the crack. You should also be aware that tomorrow is Monday, the first day back at school for the new term. Yay, I'm so excited. I can't wait for all the looks in the hallways and the snickers from the virgin boys who have never seen a vagina in their life. You go boys.

But yeah, that's it. Moral of this story. I'm completely fucked.

꧁𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘆꧂

Getting to school late is my ritual. It avoids having to hang around by myself for half an hour while the boys and girls simultaneously pass me by and throw looks. They do it on a loop too. Walk down, throw looks, go for about a minute, come back, do it again. I can't be bothered with that kind of shit. Once school is over, I'm leaving them and their untouched pussies for dust.

In English, a lesson I actually enjoy, I sit in the back in the corner by the window. I'm the loner. And yet, the teacher always asks me if I know the answer to every question. To be fair, I know she only does it because she knows I know the answer. I always get it right. Probably because I actually study. But then, even that leads to complications. Because now, I'm a smart slag. Something the other students can't comprehend and love talking about. They probably all want to shag me but oh well.

Then, McCartney turns and looks at me. I'm expecting a middle finger, or as he used to, grab his crotch and look at me like I was a stripper that he wanted to shag. It only amuses me because he'll never be able to pay for one in the first place. This time though was weird, he didn't do that nor the middle finger. He just looked at me and then turned away. Has someone developed

i n s e c u r i t i e s?

I'm amazed. Maybe the kid is growing up. Or he's just having a bad day. I can relate to that too.

꧁꧂

Break time. And I'm sitting by myself on the field, again. I don't mind, I like being alone with my own thoughts and occasionally a book to pass the time. I used to sit in the toilets but the girls would still come and harass me in there. I think they're obsessed. Maybe because I've got the biggest tits in the year or something. If it is that then they need to stop being jealous, it's not the best thing in the world.