TIGHT FIT
I know what was done to me and I even know how it was done but knowing and being able to do something about it are two entirely different things.
My name’s Heather Winslow and my family and me, we moved around a lot. My dad’s military and he’d get transferred every year or two so we kind of got used to it, but this time, we were transferred to a back water posting and while I might not have liked changing schools yet again, I knew better than to complain about it.
It’s always hard changing schools but doing it in my Senior year was the pits. I think dad tried to hold it off as long as he could. Maybe if the new posting had come a year later, I would have graduated and it wouldn’t be so bad. At least, that was what I thought dad thought but dad didn’t confide in me and I never asked.
Even now, I’m not sure what I expected of my new classmates. I suppose maybe I thought they’d be backwater hicks and I suppose that in a way, that’s exactly what they were but with a bit of a twist. As drug enforcement policies ramped up in the cities, the stashing of drugs got pushed out to the suburbs and when things got too hot for the burbies, the drugs went even farther out. We were out in the boonies, but that didn’t mean we didn’t have drugs. I suppose in a way, my classmates were like modern day moonshiners only now with a much more potent drugs at their control and plenty of open space around in which to hide their stashes.
The kids called me Squeaky. Why, you ask? Because according to them, I was squeaky clean. At first they only did it behind my back but as time wore on and as the name stuck, they became more upfront with the name. I didn’t much care. All I really wanted was to get through my senior year so I could head off to college.
It was Becca that invited me to the party and that in and of itself was strange because I didn’t even think Becca liked me.
“But you should go,” she said. “If you don’t at least try to hang out with people, people are going to think you’re a snob.”
I had enough problems to worry about. I didn’t want anyone thinking that. “But I won’t know anyone,” I said.
“Sure you will. Everyone will be there.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Look, if you don’t want to go, just say so, but if you don’t go, people aren’t going to like it.”
There really wasn’t a threat there and yet from the way she said it, it almost sounded as if there were, like there was some kind of deeper, more ominous meaning behind her words. In retrospect, I know now I should have said no, but that’s not what I said. What I said was yes.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at eight,” she said.
“But I thought we’d drive—”
“On our own? Squeaky, that’s not the way it’s done here. I’ll pick you up at eight and we can have, you know, girl talk on the way.”
I was hesitant, but not hesitant enough. “Okay,” I said.
And sure enough, Becca was there on time, well almost. It was 8:03 when she stopped by my house, and while that wouldn’t have been on time by my dad’s standards, it was good enough for me.
The party was already jumping by the time we got there. I don’t know whose house it was, but it was a big place and there was a big open back yard. “There’s a keg out back,” Becca said. “You do drink, don’t you?”
Okay, even though I was underage, it wasn’t like I hadn’t ever had a beer before, and besides, with the kids seeming to be finally loosening up to me, I didn’t want to go back to being Squeaky so even though I didn’t much like beer, I told her “Yeah.”
“Well, go on out back and get yourself a beer and have some fun.”
Marco Reynaldi seemed to have staked out a position at the keg. The guys, it seemed, could pour for themselves but if a girl wanted a beer, Marco was there to offer it up.
He handed me a glass. “Here you go, pretty lady,” he said which was by far and away the longest conversation I’d ever had with Marco. “You want anything more from me, you know where to find me.”
Becca was right, of course. It was a small town, so of course, that meant everyone was there and yeah, I did know them, but there’s knowing and there’s knowing. The people there weren’t my friends. They were just people I went to school with so they’d walk right past me without hardly ever saying a word.
Marco showed up again with another beer in hand. “Looks like you need a refill, pretty lady,” he said even though I’d barely touched the first beer he’d given me.
I tried to tell him that, but he was having none of that. He took the old beer and pushed the new one into my hand. “Here you go,” he said. “Drink up.”
I took a sip to be sociable.
He laughed amiably. “Drink up,” he said again.
I laughed, too and took a longer drink from the cup.
“That’s better,” he said. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself,” he said.
I took another drink from the cup. I actually liked Marco. He just seemed to have a way of getting on a person’s good side. “It’s just that I still feel like an outsider,” I said.
Marco nodded. “I can understand that,” he said. “It must be hard being the new kid but what you need to do is to learn to loosen up.”
“Yeah, but—”
“That’s what the beer is for. Takes the edge off, so drink up. Maybe you’ll let your guard down, pretty lady. Maybe other people can see you for who you really are.”
I took another drink. I didn’t see how a beer was going to do that, but then I did enjoy talking with Marco, so if he wanted to stay here and talk, that was fine with me. I took another drink.
My cup was empty. How had that happened and when I was about to tell Marco, he just pushed another cup into my hands. It never occurred to me to wonder how he’d gotten that second cup.
I was feeling a little muddle-headed. That was weird. One beer shouldn’t do that to me.
“Drink,” Marco encouraged.
I took another drink, and then another. The beer certainly was working, I thought. I certainly was feeling less inhibited.
“You look a little unsteady,” Marco was saying. “I think maybe we need to find a place to sit down.”
That was starting to sound like a very good idea.
Marco took me by the hand. He seemed to know exactly where he was taking me. He pushed a door open and then he pulled me into a nearly darkened room and then he was pushing me down onto a couch. Something was wrong here, I thought, but I seemed incapable of doing or saying anything. There were other boys in the room, I realized, but that was the last thought I had before my awareness deserted me.
The next thing I remembered, I was sitting in a room, the same room in fact and Beeca was standing over me. “I’ll take her home,” she said with a voice tinged with disgust. “Geez, Rory. You could have told me what you were going to do.”
My mind was still foggy. Rory. The only Rory I knew was Rory Kilpatrick but I hadn’t seen him here at the party.
“Would you have helped out if we’d told you,” he asked.
“No.”
“Then it’s a good thing we didn’t tell you, Becca.”
“But look at what you’ve done to her.”
“Yeah, so what? Besides, she’s not going to mind anyways what we’ve done. Take my word for it.”
“You really are a shithead, Rory. I mean it. You’re a real shithead.”
I heard these words and on some level, I understood them, but it was like it was like they were speaking a foreign language because I heard them without understanding their meaning. It was only later that I’d truly comprehend the meaning of those words.
“Come on, Squeaky,” Becca was saying. “We need to go.”
I didn’t say anything. I just got up and followed Becca out.
We got in her car and Becca drove me home. Becca put the car in Park and she looked at me. I really couldn’t see her all that well in the dark. “Rory and his frineds didn’t mean anything by what they did,” she began. “You know that, right?”
I nodded.
“No, seriously. They didn’t mean anything. You know that, right?”
I nodded again. “I know,” I said.
“Are you going to be okay to get in on your own,” she asked.
“I’m okay,” I said. Actually, I felt a little woozy but somehow, I knew that was what she wanted to hear.
“Okay. Go on inside now. Best thing to do is sleep it off.”
Those last few words didn’t really register with me at the time. I just nodded and opened the door and I headed inside.
I suppose I was lucky. Dad was waiting up for me like I knew he’d be doing. He muted the news he’d been watching and came to greet me. “You okay, honey,” he asked.
“Yeah, dad,” I told him. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, dad. I’m sure.”
“You seem a little out of it. You weren’t drinking, were you?”
“Dad!”
“Hey, a dad has to ask, you know. Come here. Give me a hug.”
I did as I was told. I gave him a hug. “I’m really tired now. Can I go to bed?”
“Sure, honey,” he said. “Pleasant dreams.”
“You too, dad,” I told him.
I didn’t feel any different when I woke up the next day. It was a Saturday and already the thought of the party and what had happened there had faded almost completely away. Mom and dad were taking Justin to a soccer game which meant I pretty much had the house to myself. That would have been cool if I had anything to do around the house, but the truth was I was bored.
I, of course, slept in because I could, and when I did get up, I went downstairs in just my nightshirt and my panties, again, because I could. Someone had ordered pizza the night before so I snagged a slice as I contemplated all the things I might do that day. In the end, after contemplating everything I might do, I did something completely unexpected. I went up to my bedroom, stripped off my panties and I got myself off ... twice, and I was working on a third time when mom and dad and Justin got home.
The next day was Sunday and that was when the trouble started.
My family went to church as they usually did. I didn’t notice it at first, or if I did, my mind ignored what it was feeling but all of the sudden, my body was starting to itch. To be more precise, it wasn’t just my whole body, it was just my body between my waist and my crotch, or to be more specific still, it was where my panties touched my skin.
Even when I did become aware of it, I ignored it but the feelings became more and more intense and then I felt something new, a burning sensation overlaid on top of the itching and I just couldn’t help it. I started to squirm.
My mom shot me a look and I knew what that meant. I brought my body under control at least for the moment, but that didn’t stop the pain beneath my waist.
The more I tried to ignore it, the more profound it seemed to get. I’d try to shift positions to get relief and that would help for a moment, but then the feelings would start again.
I was squirming like a little kid but I just couldn’t help it. I couldn’t wait for that service to be over but it went on forever and ever and ever.
Finally, it came to an end and as soon as it did, as soon as we were out of the church hall, I raced for the bathroom. By that time, I was sure there was something dreadfully wrong with me, but no sooner had I locked myself in the stall than and pulled down my panties, than the feeling went away.
I looked down at myself. My body seemed normal. I ran a hand over one of my cheeks. No itching. No burning. No nothing.
Weird, I thought.
I pulled the panties up and the feelings started all over again.
I pushed them down and they went away.
Okay, I didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure this one out. It was the panties that was doing it but my problem really was yeah, and so what the heck was I going to do about it. I tried tentatively pulling the panties up and once again, the feelings returned.
That settled that. I couldn’t wear those so I pulled them off and stuffed them in my purse but of course, if I wasn’t going to wear those, that meant I wasn’t going to wear any panties at all.
I stepped out of the stall and I washed my hands and then without even thinking about it, I took my panties out of my purse and tossed them in the trash and I left the restroom.
I could feel my lack of panties. I’m sure no one knew I wasn’t wearing any panties but every time someone looked my way, I wondered if he or she could sense that I wasn’t wearing anything. I was sure they couldn’t but what if they did. It made me so hot just thinking that someone might catch me out.
I’ll admit it. By the time we left, I was pretty turned on.
“Everyone buckled in,” my dad asked as he started the car.
“Everyone’s buckled in,” mom said. “Even little Miss Squirmy Pants back there.” Yeah, mom really does talk that way. “What was wrong with you,” she asked.
It should have been easy. All I had to say was there was something wrong with my panties, that it was making my skin itch, something like that. Of course, it would have been easier if it were just mom and me and if dad and Justin weren’t there, but still, I should have been able to say something, but when I opened my mouth, I couldn’t say anything and for some reason, my pussy got even hotter.
“Nothing to say,” mom said.
I shook my head. I was getting hotter still.
“Pity. We’ll deal with this when we get home then.”
Dealing with this when we get home meant she decided I was going to have to spend some time alone in my room. “No computer,” she warned me.
That was fine with me. For what I needed, I didn’t need a computer. I might not have had a boy between my legs but that didn’t mean I hadn’t been there myself and my pussy was so wet and waiting.
I almost came from the moment my fingers touched my clit. I’d cum before, but I’d never cum like that and my pussy stayed nice and hot so my fingers kept working it over and over again.
I spent the better part of the next hour playing with myself and I couldn’t believe it but each time felt better than the last. I was so hot and I was so horny.
I still wasn’t wearing any panties when my dad came up and got me a couple of hours later. “Your mom wants to see you,” he said.
That meant a lecture and that was what it was. Mom was right, I knew. There was no excuse for being so fidgety in church. Yes, I would pay better attention to the pastor next time. Yes, I’d do better, and when mom was finally satisfied that I’d learned my lesson, she let me go.
That, of course, was the start of it all but I couldn’t see it for what it was at the time.
The next day, I found myself standing in front of my dresser trying to get myself ready for school. I was naked and I knew I didn’t have all day to make a decision and yet I found myself unable to make a decision.
I’d just gotten out of the shower and I’d dried my hair and yet as I stood there, I found myself suddenly unable to make a decision.
It should have been easy. Just reach in the drawer and pull out a pair of panties. That was all that was needed and yet my hand seemed almost reluctant to take the plunge into the drawer, and more than that, there was something else, too. I don’t think I wanted to admit it to myself, but I was horny. I knew what I wanted to do with my hand.
I had to tell myself no. I needed to go to school. I had to get ready, but knowing that didn’t seem to make my hand want to move any more decisively in the direction I wanted it to move.
I looked at the panties. There was just something about them, something that, I don’t know, something that made me feel uneasy.
I pushed my hand forward and I grabbed a pair of panties and I couldn’t help it. I had this feeling I was doing something wrong.
Stop it, I told myself. You’re being silly. Now get yourself dressed so you’ll be ready for school.
I’m not sure if I truly believed myself but I let my will guide my hand and all the while, I knew I was getting wetter and wetter. I knew what I really wanted to do.
And then I was sliding my panties up my legs.
And almost as quickly, I pushed them back down again.
That had hurt. From the moment the plain, white cotton had touched my skin, it had felt as if my skin was on fire but as soon as the panties were pushed away, the pain eased, too.
Weird, I thought.
I grabbed another pair and I pulled them up and once again, I met with the very same effect. Just as quickly, I pushed them down again and once again, the pain went away.
I eyed the rest of the underwear in the drawer with growing suspicion. I knew I needed to put something on but I was loathe to put my hand in the drawer.
My hand moved and then I was pushing the drawer shut. It was almost as if I could hear my pussy body breathe a sigh of relief. I’d go without, I told myself. Looking back on that decision, I understand now just how much that was so unlike anything I would ever have decided to do but right then and there, it seemed like the right thing to do.
My pussy was extremely happy with that decision. The only problem was that now knowing that it would be unencumbered by the panties I normally wore, my pussy for the rest of the day seemed bent on getting my attention. It seemed to want to remind me that all I had to do to take care of it was to reach down and do it and what was worse, I’d decided I was going to wear a skirt that day. Don’t ask me why, but it just excited me to think that when sitting there in class, all I had to do was to spread my legs to give the boys a nice view of my pussy.
My pussy was excited. There was no doubt about that. The whole day, I think I barely heard a word that any of my teachers said. I was too busy thinking about my pussy and my pussy was too busy giving me a whole new set of thoughts for me to think about as well.
Needless to say, I was so fucking wet by the end of the day.
I staggered home and I made my way up to my room. I pulled my skirt up and I fingered myself off to three really good orgasms before I finally let myself think of anything else.
I looked between my legs. I was too hairy. What if a guy were to get a look under my skirt? What would it matter? What would he see anyway. There was too much hair there. If a guy managed to get a look under my skirt, he ought to have an unobstructed view.
I shook my head. There was something wrong with that logic and yet, I couldn’t figure out why it was wrong.
An unobstructed view, I told myself. That’s what I needed. I went to the bathroom and got my razor. I started gingerly at first but that first pass with the razor seemed so right. And so did the second pass, and after that, it wasn’t long before the razor was cutting away my hair until all that was left was my freshly shaved pussy.
I looked at my handiwork in the mirror. I sure did have a pretty, little pussy, I told myself. I couldn’t wait until the boys saw that.
Wait a minute, I told myself. How are boys going to see my pussy, and yet, I knew it was only a matter of time and more than that, I knew I wanted them to see it.
My panties, I soon learned, were my enemy. I tried the next day to put them on and again, I ended up going without. The day after that, I made only a half hearted attempt to put them on and when that once again failed, I quickly decided I didn’t need any stupid panties anyway. After all, if I was wearing panties, then how could I let the boys see my pussy?
But I needed to wear something.
I think I knew where I was headed all along but even so, that didn’t mean I jumped right to the eventual solution but when I got there, I knew I’d found my answer when I started wearing sheer, thin tights.
I knew right away though when I got my first pair of tights that I had what I needed. First, there was a sense of exhileration as I held them in my hand, as if I finally knew what I’d finally found what I was looking for and that feeling only intensified as I slid my pushed my feet down into the tights. Inch by inch as I pulled the tights up my legs, the feelings grew. I could feel myself getting hotter and hotter. This was what I needed, I told myself. I needed to be a little tease so the boys would come and fuck me.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that was wrong, but even though I knew it was wrong, I couldn’t figure out why and besides, it all seemed so right.
I pulled the tights up my legs and I got hotter and hotter. Up past the knees and then past the thighs. I loved the way the fabric just seemed to caress my body, almost as if it were making me even more sexual and sensuous.
And then I was at the top of the thighs and I pulled the tights up over my butt and I couldn’t help but gasp. If I thought I’d been sexual before, that was nothing compared to what I felt when I pulled those tights over my ass. Suddenly, with the tights in place, it seemed as if all I could think about was sex and I liked it. I needed to be fucked. I needed to be fucked so bad.
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at my reflected image in my closet doors. I opened my legs and there it was, as plain as day. Even through the sheer fabric of my tights, I could see my little, hairless pussy. I ran a hand over my tights. The fabric was so sheer I could feel what my hands were doing and I liked that.
And then I pushed my hand down inside my tights and that was even better. I was so fucking wet. My fingers worked my cunt and I couldn’t help but moan. I tried to hold off. I tried to tease myself but the truth was, I just couldn’t wait. My fingers just went to work on my cunt and I loved it. I watched my finger slide its way inside me. Man, I couldn’t wait until the guys saw my pussy like this.
Wait a minute. Where the hell had that thought come from?
And yet almost as quickly, I’d let it drop as I continued to work my finger between my legs. I really was very, very wet and my pussy really was so in need of attention.
My breathing was coming more and more heavily now as I watched my finger play between my legs and I could see it all through my sheer, little tights.
I was close, very close. It wouldn’t take much now. My finger was out of my pussy now and my hand was rubbing my clit. I was close, so close. Just a little bit more, I told myself. Just a little bit more.
I could feel it happening, like my body was hanging right on the edge. I was almost there. I was so close. I was almost there.
And then it happened, finally. My pussy clenched and then it clenched again. Oh geez, that was good. That was so fucking good.
I couldn’t help but look up at myself in the mirror. There was my hand, still jammed down inside my tights and there was my finger, still working away at my clit. Damn, I thought. Damn, I looked hot, and I knew the boys would be thinking the same thing just as soon as they got a nice, good look at my cunt.
I pulled my skirt up and put my top on. It was time to go to school.
I arrived on time just as I always had only that morning, every step I took, I seemed to feel my tights, and every time I felt my tights, I knew what I wanted. I didn’t want to study. I didn’t want to learn. I just wanted to meet guys and fuck and school was a great place for that. I wanted a boy to come and bend me over, pull up my skirt and push down my tights and shove his cock inside me. What could be wrong with that?
Nothing as far as I was concerned. Nothing at all was wrong with that.
I got to school and I couldn’t help myself. I was walking around doing my best to show off my butt in the hopes that some guy would pull up my skirt and do, well, you know what I wanted the boy to do, and I didn’t much care who did it, either, just so long as someone did it. The fact that no one did it just made me hotter and hornier. God damn, I needed to be fucked. I needed to be fucked so bad.
Of course, I suppose I could have just asked a boy to do what I wanted him to do but I knew I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that. I mean, that would be like trying to tell a boy what to do and I could never do that. Boys were so smart, I thought, and I was just a girl, just a girl who wanted to get fucked. That’s all I was.
Hey. Where had that come from, and yet as I rolled the thought over in my mind, I couldn’t seem to find anything wrong with it. I was just a girl and I did want to get fucked. I wanted to be fucked so much. I needed it bad, and there was no way I could tell a boy what he should do.
I was still trying to get one of the guys to take an interest in me when the bell rang for class. I’d been close. I was sure of that, but now ... I picked up my book bag and headed off to class.
I was so horny that it was getting hard to think. Mr. Johanson was talking about something but I just couldn’t concentrate. What I was wondering was about the sixe of his cock. I’d never wondered about it before but it didn’t seem odd that I was thinking about it now. I wished I could get him to take it out for me. Maybe if I let him see up under my skirt.
It took every bit of willpower to keep from reaching under my desk and pulling up my skirt and pushing my hand down inside my tights. All I knew was I was so very wet and one other thing was certain. I didn’t hear a word he said.
The next class at least was a little better because the teacher was a woman so I didn’t have to think about what it would feel like if she had a dick shoved up inside me but I still was finding it nearly impossible to concentrate.
Finally, the bell rang and we were into our morning break. I just stood there at my locker. I was so wet and I was so horny and that’s when I felt someone come up behind me. I felt his hand on my skirt. I felt him stroke my butt. “That’s a cute, little ass you got there,” he said.
It was weird but from the moment I felt his hand on my butt, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even turn my head to see the boy but then I didn’t have to turn my head to know who the boy was because I already knew. It was Rory Kilpatrick.
“I’ll bet I know what you want,” Rory said. “I’ll bet you want me to lift up your skirt and feel up your ass.”
I couldn’t help but moan. That was exactly what I wanted. How had Rory known.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You can tell me what you want.”
I moaned. “Come on, Rory. Lift up my skirt. I want you to do it. I want you to feel up my ass.”
“You do, huh?”
I still couldn’t turn my head but I could nod. “I want you to do it.” I didn’t know who was watching but I didn’t much care. “I want you to feel up my ass.”
“You want to feel this, huh,”
I could feel Rory’s hands working their way over my ass. Somehow, I knew he already knew what I wanted but that didn’t stop me from begging for it. “Oh yeah,” I told him. “I want it. You know I want it.”
His hand pulled up my skirt and suddenly, I knew just how exposed I was. All I had on was my sheer, little tights and I’d already proved to myself just how little they would hide. Rory, and whoever was there with him, I knew, could plainly see my pussy.
Rory pushed me over and suddenly I was bent over, my butt sticking out prominently. I could feel Rory slide his hand between my legs. I could feel Rory press my tights up against my pussy.
“You like this,” he said.
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact. I did like it.
“You want to be fucked.”
He was right. I did want to be fucked and I didn’t care who saw me.
His hand continued to press my tights up against my bare, little pussy. “You’re wet,” he said.
I couldn’t help but moan. “I need to be fucked,” I said through gritted teeth. “I need to be fucked.
At first, it seemed as if he hadn’t heard me. His hands still continued to stroke me. I could feel him fingering my lips through my tights and then he pulled his hand back.
It was only for a moment and then he was back again with both hands, grabbing and pulling at my tights. There was a momentary pause and then there was a rip as the tights finally gave way. He pushed his fingers into the hole he’d created and then he was taking it and he was opening it up, opening it and making it bigger.
The rip of the tights had sounded loud, almost as if Rory were tearing into me. It was loud, and I realized, it was exciting. It was almost as if he were tearing into me and that, I realized, that was exxactly what I wanted him to do. I wanted him to take his cock and I wanted him to tear into me.
It was almost as if Rory read my mind because almost as quickly as I thought it, he was slipping his cock through the hole in the fabric and he was pushing his cock inside me.
Oh fuck, that felt good. I loved it. Rory was tearing into me and it felt so good.
Rory must have thought so too, because his hands took me by the hips and then I heard him moan as he used his weight to push even more of his cock inside me. “Oh fuck,” he moaned. “Oh fuck. So fuckin’ tight.”
I knew I should feel upset but I just couldn’t. I wanted him to fuck me and having him fuck me through the hole in my tights just made it that much hotter.
“Oh fuck,” the boy groaned. “Oh fuck,” and in a moment, I knew why. I could feel his cock surging between my legs and it seemed as if my pussy just couldn’t get enough of him. My pussy squeezed down on his cock and I could feel my cunt milking him dry. I knew I wanted it. I wanted him to give me everything he had.
Rory was only the first boy to fuck me but he wasn’t the last. It seemed that I got fucked on an almost daily basis and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It was almot invariably the same. Every day, I’d put on another pair of tights. Sometimes, it was a little different. Sometimes, it was a full body suit. Sometimes, it was fishnets. Sometimes, it was stockings and a garter. I soon learned what my body wanted and what it didn’t want. If it was sheer and tight, my body burned with an insatiable need for cock from the moment I put it on but if I ever tried to put on anything even resembling a pair of panties, my body burned and itched until I got rid of the clothes.
I always wore skirts but as the year progressed, they got shorter and shorter. I liked skirts. I liked having some guy come up behind me and pull up my skirt to find what I had waiting for him and it seemed as if there was a never-ending supply of guys who were willing to give me just what I needed.
I loved it when guys ripped my clothes to get to me. It always seemed as if they weren’t just ripping my clothes but they were ripping me open as well and I loved that. Sometimes if I was already open, like if I was wearing hose and a garter, I pretended as if I’d already been ripped open and was just waiting for the cock that would finish me off.
It took me a while to realize that something had been done to me. I was mad at first. Well, maybe not mad. I liked the sex too much to be all that mad. I tried to tell someone but I couldn’t. I tried to tell someone else, but I couldn’t. After that, I just stopped trying. After all, even if I could figure out a way to say what was done to me, what did it matter anyway. I liked getting fucked. I liked it a lot.
So there you have it. I know what was done to me and I even know how it was done but even now, knowing what was done is both the best and the worst thing. It’s the worst thing because I’m a slave to my desires but it’s the best thing because now that I know what was done, I think I like it. In fact, I know I like it and the more I get fucked, the more I know I wouldn’t change back even if I could.