Latest sex stories about How did I get here from there? added for who looking to read new experience of teenager narrative How did I get here from there? story.
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#Abuse #Bisexual #Rape #Tween #Voyeur
By stoneshen
Sometimes I write fiction, sometimes I write from experience. More often that not, its the latter. I’m not usual. I don’t come from what used to be called a ‘broken home’. My parents treated me well. I did well academically although I never reached my full potential. I was lower middle class. Went to a good school. Nobody in my family ever abused me or even suggested anything sexual. And yet I sought it out. Initially by accident – I first sucked a cock in a gents toilet when I was 13 – and since then by choice even if I pretended to myself that I ‘had no choice’ or ‘it was their fault’. Of course I did and no it wasn’t.
Maybe I was an innocent and was lead into perversion. Maybe I’ve always been a pervert and never really knew innocence. Who knows? It doesn’t really matter.
One of my earliest memories was being about 3 or 4 and a neighbour pulling me shorts down while we played in the garden and then pulling down his own – he seemed ancient to me, but I guess was probably about 11. I had no conception of what he was doing, and the memory is very hazy on details.
I remember at age 6 being interested in what the little girl next door had inside her knickers: you show me yours and I’ll show you mine stuff, interupted on several occasions by her mother.
At age 10 on a school trip to some local woods a girl called Cherry flirting with me all day, although I didn’t understand at the time. As our time in the woods came to a close, Cherry needed to have a wee and the teacher told her to go in the bushes. I sloped off at the same time at Cherry’s insistence. Her squatting in a clearing, her light cotton red and white chequered dress pulled up to her chin and her knickers around her ankles: me with my shorts around my ankles, my little cock sticking out like a 3″ nail. Cherry touching it, and then her pissing, a strong jet shooting in front of her, her asking me to feel it, putting my hand on her bald little pussy as she pissed. Guiltily getting our clothes arranged as a teacher came through the brush calling our names, pretending we hadn’t done a thing other than pee.
At 13 in the gent’s toilets at the local park – I’ve written about that in my first story here. I met my abuser many times after that: initially in the gent’s toilets. I’d watch for him and then pretend I’d just come in there ‘by accident’ although I fooled nobody. Eventually I went to his apartment, and he introduced me to – or at least awoke in me – perversions I’d never dreamed of.
He knew a bunch of kids. Most of them were from ‘broken homes’, in foster care or lived in one of the local children’s homes. Several of us would meet at his place and drink alcohol, get stoned or trip, and fuck. And slowly I got to know the adults he knew: many of them knew lots of children too, and before I knew it I was passed around and while I pretended to myself that I hated it, that it wasn’t my fault I also knew that I craved it.
I slept with boys. Men. Girls. Women – a surprising amount of women. And I learned other things as well. He dressed me up as a girl after I’d known him a couple of months. I pretended to be annoyed the first time. And yet he and I could both see my hard little cock, about 4 1/2″ by then, sticking out in my panties, making a lump in the front of my school skirt. I was slightly built, had long hair and a girlish figure. Until I got larger, he’d often take me out dressed as a girl and nobody ever looked at me twice and thought I wasn’t one. I learned how to hide my almost constant erection behind skirts and dresses and even on several occasions in a bikini.
I remember the first time. Annoyed. Humiliated at being made to dress like a girl, school skirt, blouse, tie, blazer, long thigh socks and plain white panties. He photographed me and made me pose for him, my hair pulled back in a pony tail and cheap make-up badly applied – I got much better at that. He told me later that he’d collected the clothes from some of the girls who used to visit him over a few months with just this in mind. My cheeks burned with embarrassment but all through it my little cocklet stayed hard, and he could see it. I can still picture the end of it in my mind’s eye like it was yesterday: him, naked, laying on the floor, his stiff, uncut cock standing hard and tall. Me, squatting down over him. My cotton panties long gone, holding my school skirt up, my cut little cock straining, feeling like it was going to burst as I lowered myself onto his waiting cock. My blazer was gone, my tie too, my blouse open exposing my bare, hairless chest. I looked down as he entered my arse, thigh-high blue cotton socks, a skirt pulled up, my cock hard as I began to ride him. I leant back, my cock flicking up and down, side to side as I ground on him and then my boyish, watery cum erupting hands free from my prick, shooting across his chest and face as he pulled me down hard on him. His cock twitched once, twice and then I could literally feel his cum shooting deep in my bowels.
I remember the first of his ‘young friends’ I met, a boy about 6 months younger than me, just coming up to 13. Fucking. Sucking. Swallowing cum, long after the adult was fucked out – the resilience of youth!
I remember a friend of his: he’d made sure I was drunk and stoned before he picked me up, a young girl of 10 in tow wearing the uniform of a local primary school. I got in the back of the car with her and it was soon clear even to my inexperienced eyes that she was as drunk and high as I was. Her dress buttoned down the front: I remember fucking her up against the wall of his dingy flat, the buttons open, the bottom of it pushed up, her little girl knickers around her ankles as he laid on the bed naked, stroking his cock, watching us. She was his niece, apparently. After we had cum, he had us suck him off together, our tongues working his engorged helmet, licking the underside of his shaft, sucking his balls until he came over both of us, by now naked as we knelt in front of him. We had his cum all over our faces, in our hair, down our chests, I’d never seen somebody cum so much!
I remember another friend of his, a single woman in her late 20s. My parents knew her from church, and I was surprised when I first met her: I had no idea ‘normal’ people would be involved in such things! She was a teacher and also used to foster kids and as my parents were comfortable with her, she was often the cover for me staying over for the night ostensibly to ‘be company’ for a foster kid. The number of times I helped her seduce one of her placements I’ve lost track of – boys and girls, from 10 to 14. She’d turn a blind eye to a sneaky cigarette while she ‘wasn’t watching’, a stolen swig of alcohol from her glass as she prepared dinner. From there, openly smoking, being given drinks, smoking cannabis. A slightly risque film on the video. Dares. Truths. More dares, each naughtier than the last. Bedtime. Sleeping naked. Openly going to her room, leaving the doors open, fucking noisily. None ever resisted stealthily creeping to the doorway to watch, and few said no to an invitation to join in.
So, not really a story, more a description of a journey. What did it all leave me with? I like sex, and am and likely always have been a sex addict. I like school uniforms. Gent’s toilets. Young girls and boys between 12 and 15. A hard cock in panties, particularly a hard boy’s cock. I like voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Group sex. Age gaps, particularly large ones. I like cum, squirting, watersports. Humilation, degradation, powerplay. I’d slept with probably 200 people by the time I was 16 and have probably topped 500 by now. And to look at me, you’d never know it, I’m just a normal guy with a normal job.
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By stoneshen
#Abuse #Bisexual #Rape #Tween #Voyeur
