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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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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2015. Please
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Alyssa's First Time - 4
by Alyssa B. (no address provided)
***
Alyssa has gone from good girl with a bad family to
mistress of her mother's fiancé. Now, living a double
life as her mother's ex-fiancé's lover, she finds
herself tricked into her new role as his prostitute.
(MM+/f, nc, ped, 1st, gb)
***
PART IV
My first time with my boyfriend was special. I've tried
to paint the story of how this 35-year-old man seduced
me when I was 13 from the perspective of that young
virgin looking to grow up to fast. Within a year of our
first meeting, when he was dating then engaged to marry
my mother, past their stormy breakup and my mother's
return to alcohol and abusive men, this man had
possessed me emotionally and sexually. He had done
things with me that most women never do in their lives.
I had not only encouraged it, I had liked it. I had
wanted it.
Legally my grandmother was my guardian and when my
mother had chosen to go back to drinking herself into
oblivion and her creepy boyfriend Jose had started
showing an interest in me, I had run away. My
grandmother had decided, not knowing of my sexual
relationship with my mother's ex-fiancé, that the best
avenue was to let me live with him. Financially he had
the means and she knew I liked him, though she did not
know how much.
I was three months shy of my 14th birthday when he had
taken my virginity in the same bed where he had once
slept with my mother. For the three months following
that night, we had sex at least once a day. It almost
always started with him performing oral sex on me. When
I was menstruating, it usually involved either me
performing oral on him (what we jokingly called "blow
job week") or it involved anal sex--not something I
particularly liked.
Our sex life was pretty bland by his standard for the
first couple weeks. Either I was bent over some piece of
furniture or he was on top of me missionary style. Then
he taught me to "ride him," straddling his penis and
causing my own satisfaction, grinding my clit away on
his thick mat of coarse pubic hair. I liked the feeling
of control being on top gave me. It quickly became my
favorite position.
A month before I turned 14, he tied me up. Then he
gagged me and thereafter he spent the evening violating
me anally and vaginally until he finally passed out
beside me, leaving me tied helpless to the bed with my
intimate parts exposed to the room. I felt vulnerable,
degraded, used...and satisfied. It wasn't my favorite
activity, but the novelty and the helplessness made me
understand how much I trusted him. I guess that's why I
let him continue to increase our sexual activities
further and further into the deviant.
The night before my birthday we were having dinner
together when he announced, "Tomorrow night we will have
dinner with your mother and grandmother. After that so-
called birthday party, we are going to go to your real
birthday party. I've got a surprise for you."
I pressed him but he wouldn't tell me anything.
The next night came and dinner was as boring as any
dinner with your not-quite-sober mother, her trailer-
park-trash boyfriend and my ultra-conservative
grandmother. I enjoyed spending time with my
grandmother. She gave me a gift card since she really
didn't know what I would want for my birthday.
My mother made an excuse that she had "forgotten my gift
at home" which really meant she had spent the money my
grandmother had given her on meth, pills or booze. Take
your pick. I still loved my mother but I understood more
and more why her ex-fiancé was disgusted enough with her
that he was now bedding me.
Having her ex as my 'now' gave me a bit of satisfaction
that would never make up for her deficiencies as a
mother, but a satisfaction that was worth something.
We left the restaurant after an awkward dinner
conversation. My boyfriend said he had to work early in
the morning. It was a lie. The reality was that we had
this surprise lined up and I for one was eager to see
what he had done for me. After all, my 13th birthday had
been a new MacBook Pro.
He drove us to the surprise party in his Mercedes and
said that we were going to be about five minutes late,
but that he had already text messaged people at the
party that we were on the way. No matter how much I
asked, he said nothing. Not even a clue was given as to
the nature of my surprise. We left the city, heading
southwest toward the lake area, passing into the ritzier
neighborhoods. High dollar homes surrounded us, most
with their high fences even inside the already-fenced
community. After several turns and a considerable wait
we pulled up to a large adobe-colored home with a stucco
exterior and Spanish colonial design.
"You ready?" he asked.
"Yeah," I replied, not quiet knowing what I should be
ready for. Was he bringing me here because he was buying
the house? Was this a friend's house? I didn't know what
was going on, but I was curious to find out.
We walked to the front door and it opened before we
could even knock. A middle-aged woman in a white
translucent dress that barely concealed her nipples or
undergarments smiled from the doorway.
"Alyssa," she said, correctly guessing my name. "We've
been waiting for you," she continued, though not
bothering to give her own name. "Come on in."
She smiled at my boyfriend. You'll notice that I have
never used his name in any of the parts of my
story...and for good reason. He can't provide for me in
prison, can he? But I digress. We will just say the
woman at the door greeted him as "Steve" and be done
with it.
"Steve," she said, "It's good to see you. Such a lovely
young lady you have here."
"She's brilliant and sexy," I heard my boyfriend say as
he passed through the doorway behind me.
We entered the foyer and the barely covered woman told
us the rest of the party was upstairs in the game room.
She then showed us the stairwell and invited us to go up
on our own while she took care of some other business
downstairs.
"I will be right up," she said with a smile that made me
a little uneasy "I just want to make sure I have
everything we will need."
We went up the stained wooden stairwell and my boyfriend
guided me through to a large double door entrance with
an ornate carved wood door. He opened the door from
behind me and invited me in with a slight nudge of my
shoulder. I went in more on automatic reflex to do as he
suggested than out of any real understanding of what I
was seeing within the room.
Inside the room were three women, mostly older, and four
men--all of whom were in their late forties or older.
All of them were white terrycloth wearing robes and
sandals -- a fact that seemed odd. They greeted me by
name and wished me a happy birthday. Questions were
pressed to me about how I had enjoyed dinner with my
mother and grandmother. One lady mentioned having a
granddaughter my age.
I respectfully answered the questions as best I could
and as politely as I could without revealing my unease
that these strangers knew a lot about me and my birthday
when I didn't know anything about them. Then I realized
my boyfriend had disappeared, leaving me alone with
these strangers.
I started to panic.
Everyone sensed my growing unease and they invited me to
sit on one of the black leather couches. I was asked if
I would like a drink, and I asked for a Diet Dr. Pepper.
The blonde woman whose granddaughter was my age produced
the drink from a small refrigerator under the wet bar.
One of the men came and sat down next to me, putting his
hand far to high on my leg for comfort, asking softly,
"Is this man your with really as good to you as he says
he is?"
Dumbfounded I asked if he meant my boyfriend. When he
nodded, I answered "Yeah. I guess he is." Everyone
thought that was funny for some reason.
My boyfriend and the woman from the front door appeared
through the large game room entrance at the same time. I
noticed that my boyfriend was now wearing a robe similar
to the robes worn by the others. I stared wondering if
this was some sort of cult. It wasn't, I would later
realize. But at the time, it was just plain creepy. It
was the first time my boyfriend had ever made me feel
uncomfortable like this.
My boyfriend walked over to the wet bar and pulled a
large glass dish from the cabinet, saying, "Fred, you
and Naomi want to start the gift bowl for tonight?"
A heavyset gentleman with a graying beard and handlebar
mustache rose from his couch opposite where I sat rose.
"For this little girl," he said, "I'd be happy to."
He then produced a wad of cash and put it into the bowl.
I heard my boyfriend thank the man he had called Fred
then say "Joe, that looks like an even grand. You
interested?"
Another man with red-hair and freckles chuckled and
shook his head. The woman sitting on his lap at the bar
elbowed him and he reconsidered. Another wad of cash,
counted carefully, went into the bowl.
I had no idea what was happening. It seemed like a blur
at the time, but one by one the couples put cash into
the bowl. Later I would learn that the rule of the game
was that you had to put in the same amount or more than
the person before you. Once the first round had been
made of the room, my boyfriend asked if anyone wanted to
"adjust their contributions" which would have started
the round all over with higher amounts. No one did. I
wouldn't know these rules until later... much later.
That night I just saw a lot of old people putting more
money into a bowl than I had ever seen.
Eventually, I watched as my boyfriend put the bowl back
in the cabinet. He then called me over to him. I rose
from the couch and walked to where he stood at the bar.
At this point I was on auto-pilot because I was
extremely confused.
"Alyssa," he said. "Happy birthday, baby. These are
friends of mine. They want to show you a good time,
okay?"
I was more confused. I smiled but did not know what to
do.
One of the women walked over and put her arm over my
shoulder and guided me to the couch where I had been
sitting.
She touched my breast. I recoiled.
"Don't worry," she said. "We're all just friends."
"I don't like this," I protested. "I want to go home," I
told my boyfriend.
He looked at me with a blank, emotionless stare as one
of the other women approached.
"Baby," the second woman said, "Fred's already taken his
little blue pill. He doesn't have all night."
Blue pill? That's when it sank in. I tried to struggle
but it was too late. I was surrounded and no matter how
hard I fought, they managed to get me to the couch. One
woman was holding my shoulders with her legs as she
straddled above my head. I was looking straight at the
shaved vulva under the robe covering her clearly naked
body.
I felt my pants being torn off of me. The men were
working to remove clothing with a pair of scissors while
their wives or girlfriends, whatever these women were to
them, held me down. In the background my boyfriend stood
and watched.
I screamed for him to help me, to make them stop. He
never moved.
One at a time, the men in the room mounted me. Most only
lasted a few thrusts and they were finished. One used a
condom. One ejaculated on my belly. The rest of them,
including my boyfriend, emptied themselves inside me. I
felt sick because I was afraid I would get pregnant. How
would I explain that?
Happy Birthday, Alyssa. I couldn't believe this was the
surprise. It didn't take long for them to finish with
me, after which one of the women took me into a bathroom
and poured me a bath in an oversized tub.
I was crying as I sat in the tub and this woman washed
me inside and out. I now know that she was just getting
rid of the evidence that her husband and their friends
had just raped me. But at the time, I was in a different
world, confused that the man I had given myself to, the
man I thought loved me had just allowed me to be gang
raped by strangers.
I sat in the tub long after the woman had finished
cleaning me. I eventually fell asleep due to the
emotional exhaustion. When I awoke the woman who had
opened the front door to this hell was shaking me by the
shoulder.
"Alyssa," she said, "It's time to go, sweetie. Let's get
you dressed."
I was confused. They had cut my clothes from me. How
would I get dressed, I wondered. Then I saw a set of my
clothes that my boyfriend must have brought with him.
They were neatly folded on the counter. I clambered out
of the bathtub, exhausted emotionally, and began to
dress.
"Don't worry, sweetie," the old woman said, "You did
better than any of the other girls we've invited to our
parties. You were great. We'd like to have you come back
again."
Again? Other girls? My head was spinning. I walked out
of the room to find my boyfriend, dressed and ready to
leave. I walked with zombie-like aimlessness to the car
and sank into the seats of the Mercedes. We drove home
in silence.
I walked straight from the front door of my boyfriend's
house to the bedroom and fell to the bed face down,
sobbing. My boyfriend entered soon after and emptied a
brown paper sack full of cash into my back.
"Happy birthday, baby," he said. "This is your birthday
present."
I was officially a whore.
END
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in
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 system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 83