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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Self Starter
by Peter Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)
***
There comes a time in any young girl's life that
childhood things must give-way to more mature
indulgencies. Once in a while though, the accelerator
gets stuck! (M/f-teen, ped, 1st, mast, orgy, prost)
***
My father used to say to me, "You're just TOO
inquisitive for your own damned good Heather." Sitting
here now, I have to say he was absolutely right. Never
one to act with caution, if ever I wanted to know
something, I would just go right out there and find out
for myself. Whatever... where-ever!
I wouldn't say dad and mom were overly strict
parentally, but I was brought up to be mindful of the
need to observe healthy thoughts and actions. "Having
respect for yourself Heather," my dad would remind me
"is the cornerstone to having respect for others."
How I miss him. Snatched cruelly from our lives when I
was just fourteen years old, in an auto-wreck caused by
a drunk-driver, I don't think I ever came to terms with
it.
I am seventeen now and holed-up here in this shabby
little room on Cleveland Drive, so far removed from any
lifestyle my parents might once have wished for me,
that my only joy now is to be found at the business-end
of a shared needle.
Perhaps sympathy was all I ever wanted? Maybe just a
shoulder to cry on. Who knows? At fourteen though, I
discovered that my developing body was of particular
interest to the male population of Thyssen County,
Iowa. When I say 'the male population,' you can take
that to mean anyone between thirteen and sixty – not
that I ever tested my theoretical limits you
understand.
I can tell you exactly how this all came about – if
you're interested?
It was only a few weeks after the funeral. I couldn't
face school and had just gone to Rafferty's Park where
I had been sitting alone on a swing for maybe an hour.
Between bouts of tears I just felt so alone. An only
child, mom had been considerably older than my father
and although shattered herself I suppose, she didn't
have enough emotional space for me as well. We fought
over nothing most nights.
My thoughts were interrupted by this guy – he must have
been in his fifties I suppose, asking me what was wrong
and could he help? I wasn't so far out of it that I
didn't recognise stranger-danger, so I more or less
told him to take a hike. Instead of taking offense
though, he just looked at me in a kindly way and said
he was sorry for interrupting and to forgive him.
Something about him looked and sounded "safe" and as he
walked away, I felt such a little bitch speaking to him
like that and called him back.
"No apologies necessary missy," he said to me. "You are
quite right to be wary... there's some total fruitcakes
in the County." I managed a half-smile.
We must have sat in that park for almost an hour. I
told him what had happened and why I wasn't at school.
He listened just like the father I now needed so badly
and after I had finished – brought down by a further
emotional relapse... he cuddled me and held me to him.
Whilst he then talked for a bit, I discovered that
misery and loneliness was not the solitary domain of a
fourteen-year old girl having a bad month or two. His
wife had died of leukemia recently and as a result of
her inability to have children, he now found himself
alone and without a great deal of purpose in life.
"That" he assured me, was a greater challenge at his
age, than was the case of a teenager with their whole
life in front of them. Exactly the sort of thing my own
father would have said!
Anyway, to get to the point. The man, whose name was
Martin so he told me, lived just across the way and he
asked me if I would like to maybe drop by one afternoon
on my way home from school, for a chat or a soda
perhaps. He gave me the address and his telephone
number.
Well over the next week, I called in pretty much every
afternoon. He'd fetch a soft drink for me and either a
biscuit or some other munchie and we would just sit in
his kitchen talking about things – all sorts of things.
TV shows to News items, poetry to ice-skating. I found
out that he used to be a High School teacher himself in
Boston of all places.
I never stayed more than three-quarters of an hour
though, as mom would have started asking all manner of
questions and we would have ended up having another
huge fight. Martin was never anything but a perfect
gentleman when I was there and looking back now it's
hardly surprising that I began to see in him some sort
of surrogate father.
It was the week after he had offered to help me with my
Trigonometry homework that things began to unravel,
although at the time I had never been happier.
Perhaps my own hormones were to blame? Certainly Martin
never made the slightest improper or inappropriate
comment.
I remember sitting at the kitchen table there,
listening to him explaining something about algorithms
and suddenly thinking, "For a guy in his fifties he
doesn't seem that old at all." Maybe that's when age
suddenly didn't come into it and I found myself
wondering, "Hmmm, what would it be like?"
Obviously, all girls fifteen to fifty want to be
desired. In my case though it was more than that – I
needed to be loved... I wanted to love! I most
assuredly was dying to know what sex felt like and as I
admitted earlier, once committed to some course of
action. I could always be relied upon to see it
through, no matter the consequence.
I can't remember whether I started to tease him at all
or if he just sensed some sort of "compliance" from my
viewpoint. I do recall though the day he put his hand
on my thigh while I was working out some maths problem.
It was only for a second, but it excited me and I so
wanted him to prolong the contact. He glanced up at me
for a moment and I knew questions were being asked...
and answered.
I realised of course the next afternoon that I was
going to let him touch me.
"Have respect for yourself Heather," dad had said. Was
I flying in the face of his wisdom then by choosing the
shortest school skirt I owned that morning? cheeky
little pink bra and panties that we weren't supposed to
wear in class? I even sat differently while Martin was
talking to me... my legs just fractionally too far
apart, my expression flirty. I saw his occasional
glance up my skirt and his embarrassment at being
caught-out. It was making me hotter and even more
adventurous. While he was out of the room getting me
another Sprite, I undid the top two buttons of my
school blouse.
Half an hour later though, I was beginning to think
"God, some guys just can't take a hint" as he appeared
more interested in explaining the workings of
Pythagoras than my (admittedly limited) cleavage. It
was only when his hand once more descended to my thigh
that I sensed an interest over and above fatherly
compassion.
I wriggled forward on my chair – only a fraction, but
enough that his hand was momentarily inclined towards
my inner thigh – where I knew it was both softer and
warmer. Just for a second he looked at me, and I smiled
at him - the sexiest little glance I had in my armory.
Whether he picked-up on my needs or was simply
responding to his own I can't be sure, but he allowed
his hand to inch upwards until he reached my panties.
Math was the last thing on either of our minds right
then I would imagine.
He suddenly withdrew his hand and in a fit of self-
reproach, apologised for his forward and improper
behavior.
"I'm so sorry Heather," he mumbled. "I don't know what
I was thinking. You're just a young girl and I had no
right to abuse your trust. You must think me a
disgusting old man, please forgive me."
I had no idea what to say, so I just took his hand and
pulled my chair in closer.
"The only excuse I have my most beautiful girl," he
looked completely heartbroken, "is that I'm very lonely
and I miss female companionship so much.. Having you
come here most days has been my greatest joy and - I
know how pathetic this will sound – I think I am
falling in love with you Heather."
I was just speechless and on the verge of tears myself.
He was continuing.
"Crazy as that sounds – I know I am more than forty
years older than you – its true... I'm so sorry for
embarrassing you!"
I didn't have to answer, I just knew what to do. With
his hand in mine still and without breaking eye
contact, I just slipped it back beneath my skirt,
making sure contact with my panties was re-established.
I spread my legs just those few crucial degrees more.
Now he wasn't talking!
The feel of a male hand up between my legs where none
but my own had ever ventured, was causing pleasurable
sensations, the like of which I could barely
countenance. As he rubbed me there, I know I was making
so many soft moans that I must have sounded like I had
been brought up in a convent. That all changed when his
hand slipped inside the leg of my panties and we both
discovered what fun opportunities then beckoned.
I don't even remember going upstairs with him – just
laying on his bed later while he took my school uniform
off. I recall him telling me how pretty I was, staring
at me, clad only in my skimpy little bra and panties
now. Slipping my small breasts free of the clingy
material, he began kissing them and then gently sucking
the nipples. I couldn't believe how erect they were
becoming as he gradually drove me crazy.
I wanted more than anything to be naked for him and had
no hesitation in allowing him to strip me completely.
For the longest time, he was just sitting between my
legs staring at my pussy, brushing his fingers through
my pubic curls and then just gently separating both
labia the length of my (now) very wet slit. In the
gentlest of voices he asked me if I wouldn't mind
playing with my nipples while he watched.
At the point he removed his own trousers and I saw his
erection for the first time – the only one I had ever
seen of course, I was suddenly filled as much with
trepidation as expectancy. Would it really hurt? Is
this what I truly wanted?
I didn't need to go to the video ref!
He was still kissing me passionately, my arms around
his neck, my eyes tight closed, when the grim reaper
showed up between my legs. Aroused, wet and most
definitely willing as I was, my hymen apparently was
anything but ready to hand in its resignation without a
fight.
Analogies such as a "hot knife through butter" or
"David versus Goliath" might seem appropriate here but
in fact it almost killed me. Three times Martin pulled
back saying "I can't Heather, it's just hurting you too
much." Three times I clung to him begging him to "push
in harder."
Eventually he placed a soft pillow beneath my hips,
spread me even more and simply kissed me to
distraction. It worked, and despite the searing pain
initially, once he was in me and doing things I just
could never have imagined being done to my young body,
something was let loose that subsequently I have never
been able to control.
Maybe on account of the fact he was having sex with an
under-age schoolgirl and that this perhaps excited him,
but it seemed to me, even with my total inexperience in
such matters, that it was over pretty quickly as I felt
him spurting his semen deep inside me. I definitely
needed more.
Afterwards, Martin was again apologising for his
actions, saying he should never have taken advantage of
me, even though I had been willing for it to happen.
Right then I simply had to get home before mom started
asking questions. Leaving me to dress, I felt almost
dizzy and took a while pulling my bra and panties back
on. I could feel his cum leaking out of me as I walked
somewhat unsteadily downstairs. It felt sexy.
Kissing me lightly, he said he hoped I could forgive
him his moment of weakness. Right then, I was kinda
hoping he might have a few more!
Emotionally confused as I walked home, all I really
knew is that I liked what had just happened and that I
wanted Martin to do that again to me tomorrow. Why I
never even gave a thought about the possibility of
falling pregnant, I don't know.
Mom looked at me kinda questioningly when I sauntered
in. "You OK Heather?" she said, "You look a little
flushed?"
"Just a cheer-squad try-out Mom," I replied, thinking
how much I'd like to parade around Martin's kitchen in
that little outfit, not to mention how much he'd
probably like it! Once upstairs I stripped off for a
shower and found a few very incriminating spots of
blood on my panties. Definitely had to lose those!
Beneath the hot water was heaven and thinking minutely
about what Martin had done to me, it wasn't long before
my hands found their way between my legs. I can be such
a naughty girl!
3.45 p.m. couldn't come around quick enough. Martin was
out the front fixing some timber on his porch as I got
there. He smiled when he saw me.
"About yesterday Heather," he started.
"Yesterday was great," I cut him off. "Have you missed
me?" I teased.
Once inside and the door closed, I took his hand and
headed for the stairs.
"What are you doing sweetie?" Martin asked, looking
puzzled.
"Well, wouldn't you like to fuck me again?" I giggled,
"I thought you enjoyed it yesterday?" I added, trying
my best to pout meaningfully.
"Heather... we shouldn't," he pleaded. "I could go to
jail you know."
"Only If I tell someone," I laughed. "and I promise I
won't," I added, pulling him harder.
"You really liked me doing it to you Heather?" he
asked, almost comically. "Even though I'm a much older
man?" Now he looked distinctly sad.
We had reached the top of the stairs and having
unloaded my back pack. I put my arms around his neck
and kissed him. He didn't seem to need much more
encouragement.
This time he was far less gentle with me, pretty much
shoving me backwards on the bed and ripping my white
school briefs off in his enthusiasm. I loved it. As his
hands groped my breasts through the thin top I could
feel my nipples becoming erect. My heart was racing and
when he pushed my dress up, exposing my pussy to his
gaze, I just spread my legs as wide as I could get
them. I felt so submissive and deliciously female, I
knew this was going to rate high on the Richter scale.
"Fuck me Martin," I prompted him at regular intervals
and I think hearing me utter those words really spurred
him on. I so meant it!
So wrapped-up had I been the previous day with the
discomfort of my departing virginity I hadn't "let go"
as such during the penetration. Today though I was the
complete 'slut' moaning, begging and using my hips
anything but discreetly.
My own pleasures rubbed off (as it were) on Martin who
gave voice to the fact that I had the "sexiest little
cunt," during his moments of unhinged thrusting.
Shocked but excited by hearing such dirty words spoken
to a girl my age I just wriggled in pleasure and
whispered to him to "play with my tits." He didn't need
an instruction manual, that's for sure.
This time I found out what a real vaginal orgasm was. I
went to Heaven and back I think. Tingling all the way
from my nipples to my pussy I just shook as wave after
wave took me where I definitely wanted to go. Judging
by what he shot-up inside me, his own finality wasn't
that un-enjoyable either!
After ten minutes or so and I could bear touching my
sensitive zones once more I started teasing Martin
again and got him to the stage of wanting to strip me
completely – an activity I had no problem with.
Giggling as my bra, the last item of modesty I
possessed, took its leave I knelt there in the middle
of the bed as naked as the day I was born.
Tickling me as he groped my breasts while doing several
other things that are probably not appropriate to enact
with a fourteen-year old girl, I must have appeared,
thinking back now – the embodiment of every male
fantasy.
He fucked me several more times, including an
instructive session behind me whilst on all fours with
my bottom at a particularly acute angle. Note, I said
acute... not cute, although we are talking semantics
here I guess. I have to admit this particular method
felt very sexy and seems to give the male partner extra
penetration. Yummy!
By the time I got home that afternoon I was not only
flushed once again, I was completely hooked on sex. I
needed to know what it was like with boys my own age.
Unfortunately I found out... crappy!
When a girl "puts out" at school, there's no shortage
of takers it seems...and in my quest for experience, I
took whatever was on offer. If anything, being groped
and fingered by boys way younger than me was sexier
than having fifteen and sixteen year old tenth graders
shoving their pencil-thin interfaces up my pussy and
then having no idea what to do. After a couple of
weeks, I couldn't wait to see Martin again.
Time flies when you're having fun but with the passage
of weeks I knew that Martin had lost all respect for me
and was just making the most of what opportunities he
had to fuck a sexy young schoolgirl. We talked less and
he penetrated me harder, frequently not even bothering
to strip me any longer, simply pushing me onto the bed,
holding my panties aside and just raping me senseless –
exactly what I was there for!
Things took a turn for the worse... or should I say,
the better, the afternoon I turned up at Martin's
house, a month or so after my fifteenth birthday, only
to find he had one of his friends there.
"This is Geoff sweetheart," he said, introducing the
admittedly good-looking taller man, who I guessed was a
few years younger, though still pushing fifty. Geoff
wasn't there for just the conversation.
Made to strip to my bra and panties, I had to sit on
both their laps while they kissed and fondled me in
turn. What should have been a humiliating experience
for so young a girl, simply made me hotter. At the
point Martin asked his friend if he had any deep-seated
fantasy, he replied that he had always wanted to spank
a schoolgirl. Yeah, I know - how original?
Geoff told us that he had longed to do it to his own
daughter who was now sixteen he said, but didn't feel
that it was worth the subsequent divorce and assault
charge. Seemed like I was the next best option.
They put me across his knee and both took turns
spanking my bottom pretty hard. Whilst it really stung,
I couldn't stop wriggling in pleasure and grinding my
pussy against Geoff's knee. Martin knelt beside me and
began groping my breasts inside my bra while Geoff
continued paddling my butt.
"Pull her panties down Geoff," Martin suggested to his
friend, who was anything but opposed to the idea. I
suppose seeing my naked bottom glowing red and jiggling
about in his lap had its arousing aspects and the
spanks rained down harder, though now often wide of the
mark, peppering an area between my waist and upper
thighs. I could feel Geoff's erection protruding
upwards into my tummy.
"She's had enough I think," Geoff said, staying his
had. Just because I was crying and completely scarlet
didn't mean I wanted it to stop though! By far the best
way to alleviate the pain of a girl's spanked bottom is
to fuck her and that's precisely what they did. Thank
God for the pill!
Taking me upstairs they first ripped my bra off and
made me walk about completely naked, while they
masturbated. At the critical moment, they had me lie on
Martin's bed face-down while they came all over me –
chiefly over my scalding hot bottom and lower back.
After that, they both fucked me. On the bed, on all
fours, against the wall – even standing up while one of
them held my arms. No way to treat a lady I suppose,
but who's complaining?
By the time I got home, my bottom, breasts and pussy
were so sore I could hardly walk. "Roll on Wednesday,"
I was thinking.
Well, Geoff had a few friends too didn't he? Within six
months I was so far down the road to degradation,
Martin's little house was playing host to sights that
might cause the most experienced member of the Miami
Vice Squad to throw-up.
Stripped, fondled and passed-around from chair to
chair, room to room, duo to duo, I was fucked so hard
and so often that cum would be running out of me in
streams even as a fresh cock would find its way into
me. I learned how to suck one man while two others
fucked me either singly or together.
Whereas I would once be too sore to handle anything
after my third or fourth "rape," I learned to overcome
the pain barrier and could take whatever physical abuse
was handed out – orally, vaginally and definitely
anally. They would be queuing-up to fuck me in the ass
for days. Often, I would dress to go home while the men
were lying around the house a spent force, wondering
what vitamin pills I must have been taking.
I had turned sixteen when I met Jim, one of the few
guys in my hometown who had never fucked me. Jim was
not short of business acumen and during one "group
grope session" at one of the guy's homes – I had long
since moved on from Martin – he took me aside and said
"Look Heather... if you're willing to go the distance
with all these men – why not make some money out of
it?"
Within a month I had left home and was set-up here on
Cleveland Drive. I suppose you could say that Jim
"pimped" for me but in all honesty, I really wasn't
short of contacts.
You get to meet the weirdest people in the sex
business. Men who would bring their wives – not just to
watch either but whose tastes themselves ran to
fondling and fucking young girls. How many times was I
put across the woman's lap and spanked insensible while
the husband would grope me between my legs or inside my
bra? Fathers who occasionally brought their pre-teen
sons to strip and fondle a teenage girl after which
they might watch her get fucked or even try it
themselves.
One incredible afternoon, a sole mother brought her two
twelve-year old twin-daughters over, and I was expected
to undress them, finger them and suck their hot little
nipples while the mother masturbated. Can't say as that
was any hardship, to be honest.
So yeah, having dropped out of school understandably, I
was starting to make plenty of money – even allowing
for Jim's "commissions." Shame I was introduced to
heroin!
My dad's words - "Have respect for yourself Heather"-
have long since been swept under the carpet, along with
his daughter's future. The heroin usage has seen to it
that my clientele let's say, are no longer "screened."
I can't afford to be choosy.
A thin seventeen year-old girl with track-marks and
hollow-eyes, commands rather less sexual interest than
a vibrant fourteen-year old schoolgirl in cute pink
knickers.
But hey, I still love being spanked... IF you're
interested?
(c) Peter_Pan 2005 http://www.lulu.com/content/106537
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 38