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Brought up in an open sexual lifestyle
Born into a wealthy household to a much older couple I grew up pampered and cared for by nannies and teachers. My parents were never affectionate, not between them and not with me. I guess I was starved for affection and I found it early with Joe, who lived on the property and took care of all handyman work and the lawns and pool. His wife Martha worked inside, she was the main housekeeper and cook, but she had a helper. She ran the house.
Joe was affectionate with me, lifting me, hugging me, caressing me. We are talking about four, five, six. By the time I was seven I pressed my ** against him, pressed hard with my legs around him. He held me with his arm under my ** and pressed me to him with his other arm. I rode the banister, rubbed myself against the bedpost, rubbed myself on the back of the dog. Anything to rub my ** against, and when Joe hugged me I rubbed my ** against him.
One day, I guess I was nine, he pushed his ** into my ** from behind. My legs were around him, and he had me held up with his hand and he pushed his ** into my ** through my **. I held on tight and he pushed it in and pushed it in again and again, my first ** **, but with ** on. By then I knew all about men and their **. Believe me Martha told me, in great detail about it, it was a believe it or not story. Men liked to poke their ** in girls, just wait and see. And in a whisper in my ear, and girls like it too.
Well I liked it, and rode down Joe's ** when I was eleven. He sat with his legs together and his ** straight up and I straddled him and let myself down on his ** until his ** was all the way in me. He told me that since I was riding him, I needed to do the work, up and down so he could feel good about it too. I wasn't wet enough that time so he didn't reach climax, at least not with his ** in me. Martha took charge after that and started to give me a pill every day, held it with her fingers and made sure I swallowed it.
Joe turned me on my back and ** me on their bed in their house on the property. Martha told me that she was right, girls like having a ** in them. Enjoy every bit of it, one day I was going to get married and husbands get tired of you and look for fresh girls. My time was 'now', before I got married. Well if that was the case, as long as Joe wanted to, I wanted too. And Joe wanted to, Martha made sure he wanted to. She monitored me closely, giving me hints from time to time, do this, do that, sit like this, put your head in a pillow and raise yourself up on your knees.
When I went away to college Martha asked me to be careful, there were wolves out there and I was the sheepy lamby. Well if a wolf has to get on sheepy lamby why not me. I liked wolves, the more wolf, the better. I was prepared, I knew how to bury my face in the pillow, I knew how to ** him off and squeeze out his **. Joe and Martha had taught me. ** was fun, and I needed to enjoy it before I got married.
Of course I was a **, I never counted who all ** me, but it was a bunch by the time I finished college. I met my 'Joe' at a party, he was then an associate professor at the college and I sucked him dry one night and gave him ** in the morning. College girls gave him lots of **, but I guess I tripped something in him and he wanted me for him, he wanted to get married. He was pretty poor, lived hand to mouth on his salary, and marrying would give him a big leg up on his lifestyle. I guess I knew that, children followed, and Martha now in her sixties told me to watch him like a hawk, he was the type who was used to young **.
It never bothered me that he ** students. Those girls needed it as much I did when I was a student, and professors filled a girl's need much better than some lacrosse player. For me, it was ** after he had ** a student, I made him tell me what she was like before he got his ** in me. I know it's **, but if I could I would have watched, but then he wouldn't have ** them. ** to me just wasn't exclusive. He could have ** as much as he wanted to. I was married, so I had chosen to get off the merry go round and settle down and have children. But the more girls he got to **, the more of a happy man he was for me. When it was my turn, he would start by telling me about this or that girl, describe her to me, and by the time he got on me, I was so ready for it.
I'm 40 now, my parents are gone and so are Joe and Martha. I have a housekeeper from Colombia and she spends her time with her rosary. I really don't think she ever got ** and now she is sentenced to live out her life working as a housekeeper for another woman and ** her rosary. I feel sorry for her, but she does a good job. I'm not worried about my husband, he's fifty three and he slowed down quite a bit with the girls in college, he finally reached that point where they are just to immature for him. All he has is me, and I whisper memories of past lovers in his ear, and he whispers memories of young college students in my ear, and we get on with it.
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