Anal Doesn't Count, Scene #01

In the quiet sanctuary of her bedroom, 18-year-old Bethany begins her day kneeling by her bed, her body folded in prayer. Her voice, soft and sweet, fills the room as she expresses gratitude for her family's happiness and safety, all under God's watchful eye. She praises Him for her strength to love and forgive, even those who stray from His light. There's a humble promise to remain pure, a vow echoing through the room. Yet, something's amiss. Her eyes dart towards the slightly open door, her voice projecting just a touch too loud. Is this piety, or performance? As her prayer draws to a close, her sweet demeanor takes on an ironic edge. She crosses herself, a picture of devotion, and then pats her lap, content with a job well done. "Amen!" she declares, and just like that, the spell is broken. A voice from the other room calls out, "Bethany, time for school!" Her head snaps up, a smirk playing on her lips before transforming into a beaming, innocent smile. "Coming, daddy!" she chirps, grabbing her backpack and skipping out of the room. The stage is set, but for what? Cut to Bethany walking home from school, her demeanor shifted entirely. Gone is the sweet, innocent girl from the morning. In her place, a confident, prowling figure. She eyes the houses she passes, her gaze landing on a young, fit man doing yard work. She pauses, her tongue tracing her lips. In an instant, her skirt is unclipped, revealing a much shorter one underneath. Her headband disappears, hair cascading down her back. She's transforming, but into what? Her walk up the driveway is slow, deliberate. Each step screams intent. The camera follows her, the male gaze drawn to the sway of her hips, the bounce of her skirt. The man notices her, tries to deter her, but she's undeterred. She giggles, bites her finger, a picture of feigned innocence. He's frustrated, confused. What is this girl playing at? Then, she turns around. His relief at thinking she's leaving is short-lived. She lifts her skirt, a shocking, provocative gesture. Her finger dips into her mouth, then traces her backside. The man is stunned, rooted to the spot. "Holy shit," he mutters, unable to believe what he's seeing. Bethany giggles, winks, her fingers teasing, exploring. Who is this girl, and what does she want? She pulls out her phone, a silent gesture for him to be quiet. "Hi, daddy!" she chirps, her voice the epitome of innocence. She spins a tale of spending time with a friend, assures him she'll be careful. All the while, her eyes are locked on the stranger, her gaze full of mischief. She hangs up, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. "Now, where were we?" she asks, and the game is on. Smash cut to a bedroom, the door bursting open. The stranger carries Bethany in, their bodies entwined, their lips locked. He throws her onto the bed, frenzied, frantic. She undresses, nonchalant, almost bored. He pauses, a question on his lips. "Wait, you're 18 though, right?" She pouts, rolls her eyes. "Awww, you men are so cute," she teases, dismissing his concern. Who is this girl, and what is her story? He moves to enter her, but she stops him. "Nuh-uh, I only do anal," she states, her voice firm. He's taken aback but complies, fetching lube from his bedside table. Why only anal? She smirks, her eyes filled with contempt. Because she's supposed to be a virgin on her wedding day, she explains. Because her parents push that archaic, misogynistic bullshit on her. Because anal doesn't count. The stranger is left reeling, caught in her web of desire and deceit. Bethany, the sweet, innocent girl from the morning, is gone. In her place, a seductress, a performer, a girl who knows what she wants and how to get it. She's a chameleon, shifting from one persona to the next with ease. She's a mystery, a riddle wrapped in an enigma. She's Bethany, and she's about to blow your mind. With each thrust, each moan, each whispered command, Bethany asserts her power. She's not just a participant; she's the orchestrator, the conductor of this symphony of pleasure. The stranger is a puppet in her hands, his every move dictated by her desires. He's hers to command, hers to control. And she revels in it. Her body responds to his touch, her back arching, her breath hitching. But she's not lost in the moment; she's hyper-aware, her mind sharp as a whip. She's a performer, after all, and this is her stage. She's playing a role, living a fantasy, and she's loving every minute of it. But who is the real Bethany? Is she the sweet, innocent girl from the morning, or the seductress who lured a stranger into her web? Is she the devoted daughter, or the rebellious teen? Is she the virgin waiting for her wedding day, or the vixen who knows exactly what she wants? The answer is, she's all of these and none of these. She's a contradiction, a paradox. She's a girl who knows the power of perception, the allure of illusion. She's a girl who knows that sometimes, the best way to hide is in plain sight. So, who is Bethany? She's the girl who prays in the morning and prowls in the afternoon. She's the girl who says 'amen' and 'anal' with equal conviction. She's the girl who plays the game and makes the rules. She's the girl who knows that sometimes, the most thrilling performances are the ones that leave you guessing. And as the camera fades out, leaving Bethany and her stranger in their tangled embrace, one question lingers in the air. What will her next performance bring? Because one thing's for sure - with Bethany, the show is never over. It's only just begun.