Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
My breathing had been shallow, and my panties were drenched with anticipation. There was no going back from this, not if I stepped forward. We both knew that. He was waiting for me to make the first move. Because he didn’t want to be the man who came on to his girlfriend’s daughter. So, after a handful of seconds drinking him in, looking at the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the hardness of his jaw and the noticeable bulge in his jeans, I stepped forward.
“We fucked on the living room floor,” I said, my voice breathy. The weight of the memory sat heavy on my chest, recalling the feel of him inside me.
“It was the middle of the day,” I continued. “There were people around, close, there’s no privacy in a trailer park. But I didn’t care. I fucking loved it.”
Joshua had been prepared. It wasn’t a moment of passion where he lost control. He brought a condom with him because he wanted to be responsible while he fucked his girlfriend’s teenage daughter.
His body was granite underneath me, he hadn’t spoken the entire time. I didn’t know if this pleased him or disgusted him. I found myself desperate to know. To give him what he wanted. To please him.
“Did it hurt?” his voice was low, scratchy, masculine. I felt it in my pussy.
“A little,” I admitted. “But he got me ready first. Went down on me. Right there on the floor. Pushed up my cheerleading skirt and made me scream. He found a pillow to cover my mouth because we didn’t want anyone coming to investigate. To stop us.”
I swallowed, my brow damp and my heart thundering, not just from the memory, but because I was saying all of this out loud for the first time ever. There were things, secret shames you kept inside, hid from the world because we were all pretending to be normal, decent. The things you didn’t share defined you. Your secrets shaped you. And when you shared them, it was akin to carving out the most rotten and sour parts of yourself and placing them on a platter.
It was giving someone the power to destroy you.
And this was a stranger. One I didn’t even know the name of. I was giving him more than I had ever given anyone.
“It went on for months,” I said, my voice little more than a rasp. “He kept up with my mom but found excuses so he didn’t spend the night with her. He stayed to be around me. So he could put his hand up my skirt while we were eating dinner. So he could fuck me in my bedroom with me on all fours while mom went to the store.”
I sucked in an uneven breath. “I wish I could say it stopped because I was overcome with guilt and shame at what I was doing to my mother. But that wasn’t it. I felt some. There were moments I was sickened by what I was doing. But even that sickening feeling turned me on. It only stopped because I got bored of him. He got too attached. I wanted a new challenge. Something else. Someone else. He broke it off with my mom as soon as I made that clear.”
She had cried for days. It was then I felt the guilt. It overcame me to the point I wanted to tear off my own skin just to escape my sins. I’d let my need, a torrid hunger, hurt my mother. I vowed I would never do that again, hurt someone I loved—the only person I loved—in order to satisfy my needs.
“One of the cheerleaders’ fathers was next,” I said. “He was married, but my friend told me all about how their marriage was in title only. Her mother was having an affair with her tennis coach, apparently. It didn’t take much. I slept over at her place a couple of times, making sure to let him know I wanted him. I was an expert at it by that point. I was also getting more and more brash. I followed him into the bathroom while the others were cleaning up. Followed him right in. He bent me over the sink.”
I licked my lips at the memory. At the rush I felt from hearing the dishes clang and the slap of skin against skin, his fingers biting into my hips, the low grunt as he came. He was wearing a condom. I’d slipped it in my pocket before I’d left, prepared and ready for what was to come.
“The secret, my secret never got out, because no one wanted to broadcast that they were fucking an underage girl. They all had too much to lose,” I explained. “Eventually, I grew out of that, moved away. Into something different.”