Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Given my biography you it’s not too difficult to imagine my life’s story was written out for me ahead of time, and sometimes I wonder if it was. There wasn’t a lot of choice in my life and that’s probably why… well, I’m getting ahead of myself. Hey there, I’m E.
Am I that pretentious as to go by a single letter? Not quite. I was born Emma, however my mother passed away shortly after my birth and there was apparently no other family members or so I’ve been told. Just another orphan in and out of the foster care system. I picked up another name later on, but I’m getting ahead of myself here. I think it’s better to explain how I got to where I am. Looking back on it, it sounds a lot worse than it actually was.
I don’t remember the early years much at all, but I knew what foster parents were. And while none of them were bad or anything like that, it just felt different. Not much stability, yadda yadda. Not the biggest deal until junior high hit. Things started to change then, or I got a bit older than a girl should be at fourteen years old.
Social status started to matter so much more, and I had almost none. I wasn’t very open back then, never knowing when I’d be moving on to another home, and I had very little for clothes. I was a bit of a tomboy actually, if only because I was constantly wearing hand me downs, generic clothing bought on sale at Wal-Mart.
Puberty also kicked in, though not as much as I wanted. From a kid’s simple point of view, I could see that the guys always liked the girl’s with the bigger boobs. It was just super interesting to me. I didn’t own much, a few gifts on my birthdays, the bare bones basics, but my prize position was my phone. It was mine and it followed me wherever I went. So I could keep in contact with… well, the occasional friends I had, ostensibly. In reality, it held all of my life, it followed me from place to place and if you could dissect its’ you’d probably be shocked.
I moved around a fair bit, and let me tell you being the new girl in school every year as an experience is a special treat, and a crash course on how mean girls can be when we’re young. I was mostly an outsider by choice, preferring to spend my time alone and online. That phone was a life saver, a real trooper. For example, did you know Google is really great at explaining why you’re bleeding out of your vagina? I’m not sure if you ever got any talk from the good ‘ol parents, but they all just seemed to presume I knew this stuff. Thank god for the public school system in a major eastern state, right?
I’m told puberty kicks in hard for boys, and I was interested. Really interested. If Google could tell me what a period was and what to do about it, it sure as hell could show me cocks. Lots and lots of cocks. When I found masturbation, it seemed nice at first, until I had my first orgasm wondering what one would feel like in my hand. I had absolutely no idea, but they were soft then hard, and it just fascinated me and turned me on. On the other hand, I wasn’t much different than any other teenage girl, I had crushes, there’s some mean bitches from grade eleven who I hope to never think about again and I was way too consumed with pop culture.
I also was keenly aware I wasn’t one of the popular girls. I wasn’t bad looking, but I wasn’t good looking either. I was pretty gangly even at 16, an A-Cup and skinny to boot. I knew I wasn’t one of the hot, popular girls, and that was always made clear in one way or another. I wasn’t however, completely jealous. Things with guys were extra awkward, but they definitely were a lot… friendlier. Being the new girl certainly didn’t help, but I think it may have been my friendliness with the boys that put the nail in my coffin.
Crappy euphemism aside, what I’m trying to say is I was kind of generically slutty. Maybe it was me, maybe it was the hopping around, the orphan thing combined with puberty kicking in, I was horny and boy crazy. The popular crowd was never my thing, but I fit in well enough with some of the outcasts, and some of them were boys who happened to have dicks. Not gonna lie, I gave up my V card to the first guy who seemed interested. I liked the attention, and I was incredibly eager to try sex.
I’d been to his home a few times to work on a school project. We were friendly in that awkward way, and he was OK. So, I went over one day after school when both his parents were working, and we got slightly tipsy on his parents alcohol then made out. It was an amazing feeling, as he was clearly very in to touching me, and he asked if he could touch my breasts, and I said “Sure, if I can touch your dick.”
In fairness, he did OK for a first time. Sure, he was basically groping at my chest which was kind of awkward and weird, and he seemed very focused. I, however was feeling embarrassed, because it felt good and I couldn’t believe I was doing this, and god damn my pussy felt warm. I put my hand against his crotch, and I could feel his hand flinch on my breast as if he jumped. This was fucking cool! He had been a fair bit bigger than I was, and it was clear as day how tire escort much pleasure I was bringing him with just a touch.
Just a little bit of time, maybe a minute or so, but I felt the heat between my thighs pulsing each time I rubbed just a little bit against his member. I hadn’t ever felt anything like it even if I wasn’t really touching it, I loved the way he reacted when it did. When someone is so clearly in pleasure, and you’re the cause, it’s just a turn on. I wanted more, and offered to take my bra off if he took his underwear off.
Little fucker turned it on me and said if his underwear was going off, so was all of mine. Only fair. I hadn’t been thinking of going as far as fucking at that point. But, that’s when I learned something about myself. Sometimes, my need for sex just takes over. I’m told this isn’t the case for most of you not-me people. In perhaps not the most healthy of ways. Sex ed? Out the window, he’s definitely a virgin, and I know I’m a virgin, no condom, and I had just had my period, so I was safe, right? Not really, but nothing bad happened anyways.
I had all those things in my mind, and I knew I was going to move again next year, who knew where, when would I have the chance again, and he was pretty OK as far as guys went and he certainly liked me. I went down on him and instantly fell in love. It was like getting this overwhelming approval, and the harder he got the better I felt.
Wasn’t as certain about the pre-cum, that wetness. In hindsight, he was as decent as could be and after the pain of my hymen being broken in faded. He certainly filled me up with cum, but I didn’t quite get there but damn did I get close. Not even the most awkward fuck I’ve had, and just touching my clit basically set me off when I was ready. I had the silly thought that I was a woman then. Certainly more of one than the popular girls, who I’m sure weren’t putting out.
I put out for that guy for the rest of that school year too. I lucked out, he wasn’t the clingy type and was fine with just wanting to fuck, and we had some kind of bond. After all, I helped him clean the fluids leaking out of me onto his parent’s blanket, since he mounted me on their bed, that’s gotta make a bond, right?
Next year was no different, and it sucked. We still found ways to hook up, but I was hours away from him in a new school, and it wasn’t a love thing. It stopped before the next school year had even began, actually. Not getting laid was frustrating as hell. First world problems, right? Kind of.
Being able to let loose and get a good fucking and the complete high I got off the attention was relaxing me enough to deal with the fact that I was going to be out of foster care in a couple of years, would have nowhere to live, no money, no clothes and college was a dream.
A literal dream, I wanted to go to college, I wanted to study and learn and do all the fucked up sex shit you can only do in college. Being a college girl seemed incredibly important at the time. Kind of a lot of problems for a seventeen year old on her sixth set of foster parents.
The more things got real, the more I ran away from them. Which is why I unsurprisingly ended up taking the virginity of a cute stoner guy. Somehow, weed was easier to come by than alcohol, and getting stoned and having sex was really fun, plus hey, help with my homework! Again, to be honest here, I was definitely that girl that got stoned on a regular basis. That was the first guy I did anything slightly kinky with. He seemed to love blowjobs even more than fucking me, and I loved how I felt when he’d rub his cock against my face. I loved playing the happy slut, and it didn’t seem to matter too much for whom, as long as I was pleasing them, whoever it was.
I basically slept around with, jeez, I don’t remember, like seven or eight guys that year? Gotta tell you, I am not a role model here. I’ve analyzed it a whole bunch of ways, but the constant lack of stability and my impending future resulted in a teenage girl who loved attention and avoiding reality. Go figure, what are the odds, huh?
I was also deeply insecure that at 17 I was at best going to end up a B Cup. But they could get bigger, right? If I was pregnant, they’d go up in size. The thought terrified me, and I had been on the pill since about a day after I lost gave up my virginity. I ended up pretty jealous of my larger breasted sisters shall we say. It seemed so incredibly unfair that I felt judged purely on my chest, after all we can’t see what’s between a guy’s legs. It didn’t seem the same, at least at the time.
The last two years of high school were kind of awful. I actually bit the bullet and looked for work. And looked. I told myself it was to save for after I was 18, but that never really happened. Instead, it became buying things. I wanted to wear better clothes, more feminine and try out different styles. I ended up at McDonald’s on weekends though, not exactly a life goal.
I wasn’t proud of it, but I wasn’t ashamed either. It was the first time in my life I really escort tire had any money outside of the occasional allowance. Money was rare to me to the point I kept my lunch money safely aside every day, using it as sparingly as possible.
I found the cuter I dressed, the more boys liked to do things for me, and that forced me to grow up even faster. I’m not any kind of monster, and guys can and definitely do want more than just sex, and I didn’t want to use them. At the same time, the greatest thing to look forward to was hanging out while some guy’s parents were gone and getting stoned and trying out new things sexually.
For example, I have no clue what the hell the guy who wanted to put ice on my nipples was thinking, but I certainly didn’t mind, plus he had pizza. I was very cultured, obviously. Life was about getting fucked, dreaming of studying at college.
My final year was the most overwhelming of them all. If only because half way through, I aged out of the system and ended up staying where I was until the end of the school year. The “it” girls were particularly vicious that year when their leader’s ex dumped her and a week later I was sucking his cock in the boys bathroom.
I don’t get the big deal, they’d broken up. I had felt particularly good, since I was putting out for him and she hadn’t. I got called a slut a lot behind my back and in the end he got angry being with someone who had more sexual partners than he had fingers. He moved on instantly, to a girl with significantly larger breasts than mine.
I was eighteen then, and after an evening of fucking a college guy who’s marijuana supply we had inhaled and his cum was leaking out of me, it occurred to me that my worries were less about the fact that when I graduated that I would have to find a place on my own, and I hadn’t saved nearly enough in my year of part time work in the illustrious world of fast food service than that I was rather untethered in the world.
I’m actually naturally quite good at the whole school thing, even if guys didn’t mind doing my homework for a blowjob when needed, but grades weren’t a problem for getting in to college. So, you might be asking “E, why are you telling me all this? I’m here for some kinky fucked up sex shit!” And to that, all I can say is: it’s coming! I just told y’all I was a poor teen girl whose legs spread for pizza and weed.
Not exactly the high point of my life, though some of the sex was great. A lot of it was just awkward, like when you blow a guy behind the bleachers after he does your essay that was too boring to hold your attention, y’know? Almost purely transactional.
The problem with being as untethered to the world as I was is that all those things that hold you back for everyone else? They didn’t hold me back. I was plenty depressed about my lack of parents, a rather large chip on my shoulder I would say, and the lack of any safety at all. I was about to be responsible for me.
I had no close friends, and I would need to provide for myself. And how dumb I may be is debatable, but I knew I could do sexual things for money if needed. At least, that’s how I thought of it at the time.
The problem was that most women are constrained in that manner. Mom and dad, some extended family, friends, it’s just normal. It wasn’t for me. Sometimes I ask the normal folks what they think they’d feel if they had nowhere to go home to, no one looking for them and they were stranded in a strange city with no money. They seem very troubled by the whole prospect, and that was about to be my future. My very, very soon future.
That whole untethered thing is a real pain in the ass. The issue was I liked the idea of doing sex work. I liked it a lot. Lots of women had done that, stripped to put themselves through law school. While it’s awful some are forced to it by chance it seems, I don’t feel I was. Says the teen slut fucking and sucking her days away, anyways.
I was certainly capable of having sex with people I didn’t even like that much at that point, but I still knew them at least a bit. Possibly having sex with strangers for money though was…I would be a prostitute.
Just to be clear, you would be very wrong if I didn’t think about it almost all the time. It was part of the reality I was trying very hard to ignore. I was submerged in the same world as every other kid with Internet access, the same TV shows and movies and songs, the same basic education. I knew exactly what kind of problems were tied to sex work, all the ones you’re taught about and are everywhere in media.
I wanted to do it. The thought of soliciting some guy for sex meant god knows who could be fucking me, and that aroused me. And frankly, I just presumed it’d be all guys a fair bit older than me. Which, um, confession time, isn’t much of a problem for me. Guys have told me all about the hot teachers they’d like to fuck, and I can see it, there are definitely some hot women who are teaching.
Me? Just your average messed up high school girl with no clear male role model and utterly tire escort bayan aloof male foster parents. I found myself masturbating while imagining random older adult men that I’d see on public transport.
I think that was the kicker for me. I was eighteen, but everyone else around me felt so much younger. They could all just keep going to school for another few years, take vacations and all that. Their life had some sort of vaguely defined plan to follow. Not easy, but stable and safe. They knew weren’t worried about a roof over their heads or food to eat, let alone paying for college. But now, now I was an adult.
And that was terrifying. It was complete and absolute freedom with all attendant responsibilities. I was still basically a young girl, but definitely in adult territory now without all of the basic ties most people take for granted. There literally was no mother or father for me to take into consideration in any sense, no expectation to be anything for anyone.
That played deeply into my fantasies, which were becoming more… uh… How to explain this. I’m going to try and make this clear for you guys: You ever jerk off, then realize “Wow, I can’t believe I just masturbated to that?” Well, I was imagining myself spreading my legs for some random guy, at least a decade older than me, with breasts that were way larger than I could imagine. The whole thing drove me wild. I would imagine every aspect of it, and when I finally orgasmed it didn’t escape me how weird it was that I thoroughly enjoyed it.
I can’t tell you how many times I had thoughts like that when I masturbated, even though I never said a word of this to anyone. And then I graduated. A lot of people told me they looked forward to graduation, but for me it was frightening. Everyone else was going on vacation, getting ready for college or anything else.
But the day after graduation for me was the rest of my life. My grades were fine, I passed, but I hadn’t applied to any colleges, couldn’t afford it. Especially not the path I wanted, which was veterinary school. Or, y’know, becoming a sex worker.
I was given a few extra weeks, but my latest foster home had to make room for someone new coming shortly. I definitely had a small collection of cute outfits, and they and my phone came with me to my first apartment. I’d saved a good chunk from my part-time work, but not more than a couple of months worth, and I wasn’t in any decent apartment, but at least it wasn’t far work, which I was going to do full time for now. I needed the money.
Going from having classes and exams and free time to fuck around even work the weekends to having to be a cashier at McDonalds for forty hours a week, it’ll fuck with you too. All of my sex friends, the ones who stayed in touch anyways were busy with school, and we barely had time to meet up, even though I was more than happy to open my legs for them. Some days I was just too tired though, and those days piled up quickly. I spent many quiet nights trying to figure out how many times a month I’d have to rent my body for sex in addition to my regular pay to make enough money to go to college.
Like I mentioned before, sometimes my pussy takes over. It had been taking over on this various topic for almost two years now, and it wasn’t letting go. Wasn’t I allowed to? I was in the perfect position – no ties to anyone. But what would someone in the future think of me? But there were many women who did it. Escorting was a thing, though that kind of frightened me, I didn’t know how to be an escort. I knew how to suck a mean dick and I loved the way men made me feel.
After four months of a full time jobs ringing up people’s orders and taking coupons until midnight and depression and horniness, I finally made a compromise with myself: there were plenty of websites for streaming sex. Maybe that would be enough, and the thought of getting naked on camera and masturbating for men made my pussy clench up in excitement. Thousands, if not tens of thousands of other girls did it, why not me? Just another girl doing porn, no big deal.
Big enough, because it meant being on camera. All of me. My insecurity flared, I wasn’t especially attractive, my breasts were barely a B-Cup, my hair certainly wasn’t perfect or any part of me, just a girl pushing nineteen whoring herself out online for men’s pleasure.
And I obviously wasn’t going to be using my real name and I like to stay I stuck with the “E” for some special reason, after all the only thing my birth mother had given me was a name, and now I was going to change it, I could at least keep the “E” at the start? A deep, insightful thought! Yeah, that’s not exactly me, and the truth is I had watched V for Vendetta the night before, and thought the name “Evie” was cute, so that’s what I used.
There’s no exciting story, I had an old hand me down laptop with a crappy camera, but it was enough. If I could make a few hundred bucks by masturbating, that’d be good enough, right? Turns out it’s more difficult than you’d think to attract paying customers, and the first few times I tried being “Available”, absolutely no one joined in. Bummer, but not totally, as I definitely got way more “in the mood” the first few times I convinced myself I was ready, only to be let down by the lack of customers. My tits were not big enough? I wasn’t a blonde, so maybe that was it?
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Bir yanıt bırakın