my first time and a few others

There is very little sexually that I have not done, apart from the obvious, rape bestiality and paedophilia. That should go without saying for all of us.

I lost my virginity when I was 16, I wanted not to hold on to it for any longer but losing it any soon I felt would have been an act of paedophilia, I did not want my first sexual encounter to leave me with the unsettling feeling of having had sex as a child with a child, the horror I would feel looking back from my current age to that time would be quite gross, and detestable.
No it was a brief encounter with an older man, he must have been 24 and I a week off my 17th birthday. I heard the whole affair would not just hurt but also leave me unsatisfied, a prospect not to be looked forward to, like the removal of a band aid, it is to be torn off quickly and fiercely, this is how I approached the removal of my hymen, to be taken quickly and fiercely; but sure enough it brought me no satisfaction, this sexual encounter I did not want to repeat with said gentleman, and thought that masturbation would suffice for now until I found another willing victim who would bend to my growing sexual urges .
I found my victim, about the same age as the first and both of whom shared the same musical taste as mine heavy metal, grunge, rock, anything that had that hard drum beat and whirring guitar riffs and solos, these genres not only expressed my anger, and frustrations, but aroused me to dance, shaking my hips and head, and secretly imaging the hands of anonymous men touching every inch of my still very prepubescent body.
This new guinea pig was not completely to my liking, the men I liked tended to be disinterested in me, I had a boyish figure, and no breasts, and looked a lot younger for my years, the word jail bait was often thrown about the place, whenever I did try to make advances, to the opposite sex.
Guinea pig number 2, had made it clear to me that he liked me, and wished to court me, a concept not to my approval, I wanted to advance further in sexual experience, and not dilly dally around with some vague notion of love and its wistful promises. No I marched to the enemy border with speed, determined to conquer, the opposite sex and all that is hidden, by tradition and morality. This new guinea pig took to my approach like an enemy scattering from its foe, in fear of their lives and souls, he was in fact obsessed with the delusion that I might grow to love him and insisted that we take it slow, but at any available opportunity, I took to attack, arousing his urges and those turning him away from any sentimentality. His libido lacked any form of lust and he would insist on doing the deed missionary with that deep and meaningful look in his eyes, like a puppy afraid of being chastised as it had shat everywhere. No I was not even close to the notion of love, and would frown scornfully at any baleful looks, to my puppies whimpering dismay.
I was acquainted with pornography and had in fact ransacked both my father’s and elder brother’s stash of pornographic items. These had educated me in all facets of sex, and fuelled my fantasies for masturbation. I had an agenda to fill, kissing to me was a bore as I felt neither love or consideration for my victim, he was merely a tool to which I used for my own personal gratification, unfortunately he was quick to come and had no interest in the variety of positions and numerous endeavours I took to excite and thrill, it was not long, in fact only two weeks that I grew desperately bored of the man, and casted him aside with no remorse or explanation, even I at that time thought it would be tremendously cruel to tell him how utterly wimpy and annoying I found him. Still for awhile he would come to my house with flowers in hope of requiring the love he so desperately needed which I was so desperately not wanting, I did not want to lead him on in anyway other than the needs of my growing sexuality, I was not a cruelly motivated girl and had no wish to hurt him or in fact hurt myself in any way as I liked that my conscience was clear guilt and wished for it to be so throughout my life.
The ventures I took with guinea pig number 2 were abandoned, as failures, and so I promised myself that I would not continue on my sexual path until, I found the situation to my total liking, without the pinning’s of a lovesick puppy.
My third guinea pig was a male closer to my age, who attended the same college as me; he was tall blonde and had blue eyes, which glinted with the mischievousness of canal knowledge. I made sure as quickly as I could that his advances I liked and also that I had every intention to fulfil any sexual advances he made to me. I was thus invited to his home, which he lived at with his parents, though his apartments were separate to his parents and thus my arrival was not witnessed by his folks, this helped in every way as I could open myself to lashes of lust without the back of the mind fear that his parents may conceive what we were up to.
I tried everything in the few hours we spent together, mutual masturbation, oral, anal, cow girl, doggy, and anything that came to our imagination, unfortunately, none of this made me come, and soon I became sore from so much friction, what was wrong with me, it seemed to me that self masturbation was the only way I could find the orgasm I so often wanted, could it be I was not attracted to my new guinea pig, maybe it was his age, or the idea that still his parents were tucked away somewhere wearing disapproving frowns, was the guilt to much of a barrier to letting myself go. Still he had won my approval in his exploits, and I promised him I would love to return and continue our pursuits on another day.
Unfortunately number 3’s parents had gotten wind of my presences and he was no longer allowed to have visits from young girls as it did not sit well with their ancient ideas of morality and their confused Christian ideals.
I was not sad too long about this ruling, as a chance encounter with the guy did not sit well with me, for a long time I had for my own reasons of preserving my identity, taken to wearing a baseball cap with the NYC logo, and he had taken it to himself to mimic this, which caused me to feel slightly repulsed and robbed, as I refused to ever wear the cap again and definitely refused any more of his sexual advances as I was now convinced he had become smitten with me, such emotion caused me embarrassment and discomfort, why could he not just be my friend instead of forcing his loving urges upon me, like jam on bread, I enjoyed the experiences we had shared, but I was not deluded to think that it was anything more than just that jam on bread, good enough for the time being but soon you would grow bored with its bland sweetness and seek something richer and mature in taste, I did not think he had the capacity to give that to me, nor did I like the fact that he had become to dote on me in this peculiar way, by donning the same garment of clothing.
Guinea pig number 3 was lost to me forever, I refused to reply to his phone calls and if I saw him in college I coldly said hello and was not interest in any further interaction, he was quick to get the message and if by chance I was to pass him in the corridors, he no longer gave that wet broad smile and once again we were strangers. I did feel the slight twinge of guilt, but as soon as the image of him wearing the identical hat came to mind I was instantly repulsed to almost vomiting.
It was not that I was incapable of love, I was just maybe too young to appreciate it as a part of my life at this time, I had been in the care of social services for as long as I could remember, and foster parents did not exactly love you but were paid to babysit you, I had had enough of being sat on, love was an obligation that none seemed to want to fulfil towards me, thus I took the same stance to those men that encountered me with notion of romance, just because they fell in love with me did not mean I had to return the favour. I had tried to love the foster parents I was rented out to, but they in their turn had felt little if not no love at all towards me. I suppose this upbring was in fact the cause to my search for erotic fulfilment, as love had only ever been a word whose meaning and practises were alien to me.
Looking back I know these few encounters would have taken me nowhere, and each man would not have been able to deal with the emotional turmoil, I was constantly experiencing, I was depressed for most of the time, struggling through college, with no real friends, none seemed to be able to bare my stern silences and wide eye stares, with an expressionless mouth that rarely turned up to a smile: but this story is not about the woes of a misspent youth, it’s about the first sexual encounters that in the end lead me to be the call girl I am today.
I gave up on my experiments, and resigned myself to languishing with no further sexual interference, my libido, sulked in the corner of my psychic, refusing to even allow me the pleasure of even pleasing myself, I felt I was wrong in some way, I convinced myself that until I could feel the fluttering of love I would no longer be tempted to sexual interaction, this of course did not last long and soon I had forgotten ever making such a pledge.
Without the aid of a sexual partner I embarked on finding sexual experience by myself, using inanimate objects to replace the penis, I had seen adverts for dildos in wank mags, but somehow they did not appeal to me, they suspiciously looked too much like the organ they were replicating, which had given me no satisfaction, and I didn’t think the arrival of such an object by post at my foster home would have gone unnoticed. So instead I assisted myself with bananas courgettes, cucumbers, spatula and hairbrush handles, to no avail did these implements bring me to arrive to my desired destination.
Then I discovered the power shower head, oh my goodness what bliss, I showered every day sometimes twice, if the spout was turned to a very high pressured flow, I could make myself come over and over again, sometimes leaving the cubicle with a very tingly and slightly numb pussy.
Then I discovered the jaciuos which was inbuilt in the bath. I never used this if my parents were home, but when they had gone out I would fill up the bath and turn my clitoris to its powerful jet sprays.
I was happy with these discoveries and was able to avoid most of the advances men made to me, but I did not like to feel defeated, and on occasion, took myself to further my understanding of relations with the opposite sex, to no more avail.
Ok I was as cute as a button, and most men wanted to somehow possess me like an attic china doll, I was to be their accessory, I however just wanted to fuck to screw to come again and again. So there was a conflict of interests, courting and dating verses raw animal sex. What you the reader may not understand is that courting and dating involved talking about yourself how great your life is, self promoting conversations were the beau would approve his choice in women, listening to her ranting on about how daddy bought her a pony when she was seven. My life generally sucked big time and it was very confusing back in those days and dating and courting just never sat well with me, I had a shameful upbringing, and generally at that time of my life I hated myself.
Talking about stuff frustrated me; I needed sex, physical affirmation that I was alive, even though I really felt so dead inside. Don’t get me wrong it was not that I did not want romance, but when you have grown up on Hollywood movies, romance, in greater Manchester just did not cut it, I was deluded, I did not know it at the time but looking back I was, I wanted things in life that were not real. But I would like to attribute that to my first foster parents, who feed me on ideas of fame fortune, and the ambitions of movie starlets. I had run away from these things, opportunities that came my way, I turned down, just to remove myself from these foster parents influence, it was probably a lot to the abuse I went through under their hands that had turned me into a sexual deviant.
It wasn’t until I was 19 that I experience the first orgasm during sexual intercourse, he was a young Muslim who lived with his family in Mosside, all three generations, and he worked in insurance. So one day he took me to dinner and during the appetiser he used his metal fork to poke through my blouse and scratch its prongs against my breasts, now this impressed me it was purely erotic, and my breasts were never my greatest feature, they were merely small nipples, but this attention they were receiving made them erect, blood rushed to my face and groin, we did not have a main course, my appetite for food faded as my appetite for sex suddenly became ignited.
During this time I was living in a small flat which cost pittance to live in partly because it was in old Trafford one of the roughest areas in Manchester. I took the young Muslim home with me. We sat down on my bed, and he pushed his hand up my skirt, to stroke my thigh and pussy through my knickers, it felt so good, undoing my blouse he lay me back on the bed, it was so fluid his movements it was as if he had practised it in his head for a long time, and the result was perfect, I went with all his moves, laying myself back and opening my legs, he lifted my shirt and pulled my panties to one side, using his hand he prised my lips open with two fingers, and proceeded to lick my clitoris, oh what heaven, he did not stop for a long time , and by this time my pussy was undulating, and sopping wet, he undid his pants, whipped on a condom, and inserted himself into me, all in the same flowing motions, OK we did it missionary, and for the first time I did not care about the result I was just happy to be fulfilling this man’s urges, this is what it was about, fulfil others needs, I heard him moaning in pleasure this made my heart pain with joy oh, how alive I felt how fulfilled I felt how oh oho oh oo oh ooo, the climax hit me hard, and rose and rose and rose, my pussy flinched and clenched around his member, oh fuck oh god, please! The orgasm, was powerful and so perfect it lasted a long time, he increased the frequency of his strokes, push his cock as deep as he could, harder and harder. The greatest thing about this encounter was he did not kiss me or try to not once, it was pure sex no delusions of love, just sex, as he was about to ejaculate he told me so whispering in my ear” I’m coming” “yes, yes, yes!” was my reply. I was blessed out, he was panting hard, we lay next to each other, for a while, and as I looked over to him I felt something strange, I had fallen in love I looked at this tanned face, it was sweet and sexy with a goatee, he was a man, and I wanted him, I wanted to make love to him every day for the rest of my life, I wanted him to be my man, finally someone who wants to fuck me and make me know I am breathing I am a live I am worth of this sexual fulfilment , and he wanted the same.
I never saw him again, he told me his parents would not approve of me, he was a Muslim, and I was an infidel. I cannot remember if I cried I look back and it makes me want to cry, because I remember who I was lost alone, and for the first time I thought my heart was finally connected to the world, only to be so brutally switched off again. It was my own stupid fault I had thought that when a man and woman really felt that sort of fulfilment nothing could separate them, the power of sex could only bound you together, not pull you apart.
It turned out that it was the young Muslims first time and that was all it was about for him, like me when I had lost mine he was just seeking, that first experience. Who could blame him, and I was pleased I had done it; maybe he would always remember me, remembering his first time.
Still I was heartbroken, the first time I had felt an inkling of love it was dashed and trampled on, but then this may have been the result of karma, I had been peevish and childish to men gone before and had used them for my own benefit why should they then in turn use me for their own benefit too.
During my year of living in old Trafford on the border of Mosside I had made the acquaintance ship of three brothers, they where mixed west indie and English, it was the middle brother who I spent the most time with, he was 35’ ish, and devilishly attractive, it was his idea that I tell people that I was his cousin, this way I would not be bullied by the local community, family meant ecevything to west Indians, and I did not have any in this area, for awhile the plan worked and I was protected from the harm, but soon it was discovered that this family That this family I was not related to, it had the strangest effect on that world not only did it mean that I was attacked several times but also I had to fight other girls to prove my strength and power, fighting was something I had decided to learn about in a thai boxing school, ran by a renown tryaid, Master toddy. I never really thought I was good at it but I pursued through the agonising sessions which in some ways just reflected my own pain but this was real pain and not the vague emotional stuff that broods inside you. So I had acquired some skills which as it turn out stuck and made me quite a fighter, the girls soon released I was not an easy target and in fact I could cause, a lot of damage. The assaults I never reported getting the police involved would have conclude in me being shot, shootings where frequent, one day you would be talking to someone who the next moment was shot, as you walked away saying good bye.

The thing was the three brothers knew this would be my fate but it was not avoided just delayed, and in fact I was so lonely at the time that the boys and men who would pick me up in their cars and take me to their flats, and I would naively think that they just wanted to be friends, and as they would pushed their way on to me I accepted it like it was no big deal, a lot of these situations I was happy to get out of with out too many bruises, and broken bones, I understood the urges coursing through them, once it was two boys and they were a bit too rough but I managed to coax them out of their intend violence when I suggested positions and angles, and different things we could do, I came, the first time I had had sex with two boys, they where not men and I now I knew why I was right in preferring men as boys they had no subtlety, or grace, they saw you as a whore and an object to be fucked hard and grossly, their was no beauty in the affair but then again it was a consensual assault what could I really expect from the experience. It left me bruised in several places and the fact I orgasmed was the only thing that stopped me crying about the experience.

Another such experience was an older man, about 24, I did expect more from him he was very attractive and he sleazed his way into my confidence, just to push himself on me and fuck without much way of eroticism. The thing was I did want to fuck him, but had come to the conclusion that true sexual pleasure came from intimacy, which I had experienced with the Muslim man, but this west indie mixed race boy who still lived with his mum, did not see it like that and brutally took that which I had wanted to give but with a violent heavy handedness, once he had what he wanted I was now worthless, a tramp in his ignorant eyes, I walked home to my lonely flat crying ashamed of myself and with thoughts of suicide, but I was to scared to die, at lest I knew a little of what to expect from life which wasn't much, but after death I did not think I was ready to go to hell just yet and hoped in some way that if a I stayed alive I could redeem myself and maybe heaven would accept someone like me.

I was working for channel four at the time in hollyoaks as an extra, living day to day, but surviving as best I could, the three brothers where still my friends and they knew what was happening to me, the middle brother, who I believe has died now he was shot a few years ago, decided to take a different track with me, we played chess as usual, smoked his weed, watched x files, and as usual one night his friends came round, there was seven of them all together, local men folk of mischief and virtue. The middle brother pulled me to one-side and said that I had to do something, what I asked, it was to have sex with his friends, I looked into his eyes a little sad, we had tried to have sex but I never really felt that way any more, sex was no longer empowering me but now once again it was enslaving, and not just to my foster father's urges but to the whole of the male population of this god forsaken shit hole of a town.

He said if I did not do this things would get worse, and these men did not want to hurt me just to have fun, he locked his front door and said it would be okay he promised, I knew him only a little but in the time I had known him he had made me laugh and smile , sometimes he would make fun of me but it just made me feel closer to him, it was like he knew and he knew all of the pain I felt inside and he could deal with it it did not scare him and he did not just see me as some wretch of an orphan he saw a young woman trying to make her way through the world as best she could.
He smiled like he always did and I trusted him, and then I felt my own sexual urges suddenly inflame, these men friends of his where attractive and sexy, all older men from around 26 to 36, I smiled back at him and asked “do you have olive oil” why he replied, because I want to take a bath and it is good for your skin. If I was going to do this then I was going to do it well the oil makes your skin feel real smooth and whilst I was in the bath I composed myself and rubbed the oily water into my vagina making it silky soft.

They were waiting for me in middle brother's room all seven of them a bright side lamp was turned on and the bed was pushed to the middle of the room, it was like a setting for a Nazi interrogation.
I don't know whose hands touched me I could not see anything but this blinding light and in my head I was heading straight for it, sex is like dying so I am told and the word orgasm in French is little death, I could vaguely see the shadowy figures of men stood watching me around the room, I do not know who engaged me, suddenly a cock would appear close to my face and I would take it willingly into my mouth, then one would be pushed against my groin and I would push myself back back on to it.

At first I was on hands and knees, the men who would approach me I could only see their manly bellies and penis and strong thighs. I don't know how long it lasted but I was in a fever sweating sucking fucking and frigging each penis presented to me but always the wall of shadow figures watched.

Then one of them went into my bowels, I was moved gently this way and that, and at the same time another pushed in to my pussy, I was disoriented, my body had been in a state of high arousal, from the first moment I walked into the room, the first caresses, had blinded me I could not speak I could not hear I could only feel, and feel and feel, until there was nothing but light and all the bodies melted away and the shadows turn to rainbows and I came I knew I had been coming for so long it had been a constant, there was no possible way you could move further up in arousal, but some how I did and it rang through every part of me, then there was no me no body no name no thought of me just the blinding light that was everything and I was somewhere apart of it.

I don't remember falling asleep I don't remember, it ever stopping, I don't remember waking up or going home, I remember this blissful feeling and the world and that shit hole of a town glowing bright, I was happy, I did not know it at the time but looking back that was probably the first time in my life I was really happy, like how seeing a rainbows as child used to make me feel.

The assaults and beatings stopped, it seems that each man in that room, had drawn a eternal bond with me I was theirs now and middle brother's crew was not to be messed with, that made me safe again. We never spoke about it, it did not need to be spoken about.

Instead of feeling ashamed I felt like I belonged and once again my sexuality was my own I had pleased every man in that room and in turn they where proud to say if anything bothered me, they would be pretty bothered too.

I hope that where ever that middle brother is now he knows I thank him for probably and in fact saving my life, and maybe my soul.