Free very young sex stories. Real life story: "I had sex with my minister an hour before church".



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Free very young sex stories

He was 10 years older than me and was the big brother I never had. I trusted him completely and never questioned anything he asked me to do. But maybe I should have. My siblings, cousins and I flocked to her house after school and hung out there until it was time for us to go back to our own homes. I was especially close to Mark, my de facto protector, and was seldom apart from him. As one of the older grandchildren, Mark helped our grandmother to look after the younger ones.

To keep us quiet, he would bounce us on his lap as he watched television or played computer games. One day, as I sat on his lap, Mark asked everyone else to leave the room, saying that he needed some peace and quiet. I thought nothing of it — we were a noisy bunch, so I figured he needed a reprieve.

Once we were alone, Mark turned me to face him and kissed me full on the mouth. The smooch was anything but brotherly. A part of me was curious too, so I let him continue. Getting touchy-feely From then on, Mark would find reasons to hold my hand or touch some part of my body. Again, I let him because I saw them as affectionate gestures. Instead, I felt special because Mark was giving me his full attention. My guess is that it went on for about a year — before he decided to take it further.

One afternoon, as I was getting ready for a nap, he followed me into the bedroom and locked the door. Then, he stripped and climbed into bed with me. Under the blanket, he asked me to remove all my clothes as well. I obeyed, never wondering why we had to be naked to take a nap. I never questioned his authority because I saw him as an older brother who could do no wrong.

But before things could go any further, Grandma knocked loudly on the bedroom door. She was yelling for us to unlock the door and come out of the room. I remember Mark telling me to quickly get dressed, as he did, before opening the door. Instead, she pulled Mark aside to talk. After that, Mark stopped molesting me. He still cradled me on his lap when I asked him to and continued to show me brotherly affection, but he no longer touched me in all the wrong places.

Grandma never spoke to me about what happened or sat me down to talk about the birds and the bees. Growing up, I never realised how close I had come to being raped. After that day, Mark acted like nothing had happened. In my ignorance, I forgot the smears of my childhood and even remained close to Mark until I was a teenager.

But when I turned 18, the memories somehow came flooding back. By then, I was old enough to understand that what my cousin did to me when I was a child was terrible and inappropriate.

I was appalled that he felt no remorse. We soon drifted apart, although he remained close to my sisters. I kept the shameful secret to myself for a very long time — I just felt so dirty and worthless.

Throughout my early adulthood, I suffered from low self-esteem. I felt insecure and hated the way I looked. Ironically, I made sex my comfort. It was my way out of a lonely existence. I dated serially and had countless one-night stands, none of which filled the void inside me. Little did I realise that I was carrying a lot of anger inside as well.

I had a great need to be wanted, so I fell over myself trying to please my family, friends and the opposite sex. I wanted their acceptance so badly that I let people walk all over me. I repeatedly fell for the wrong guys — those who would string me along or use me for their pleasure before dumping me. We met a year ago, and he was the first man to accept me for who I was.

He looked beyond my physical appearance and made me feel worthy to be loved. I had an emotional connection with him — something I had never felt before with my casual flings. A month into our relationship, I told him about the abuse, fully expecting him to walk away. My sisters, who used to be close to Mark, now just maintain a cordial relationship with him.

They never doubted me — the tears trickling down my cheeks as I related my ordeal convinced them I was telling the truth. I fight back instead. So when they saw how vulnerable I was, they knew I had gone through something terrible. Acknowledging that I was molested made it easier to go forward. Because of what happened to me, I want to stand up against sexual abuse.

I had to learn everything on my own, the hard way.

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Free very young sex stories

He was 10 years older than me and was the big brother I never had. I trusted him completely and never questioned anything he asked me to do. But maybe I should have. My siblings, cousins and I flocked to her house after school and hung out there until it was time for us to go back to our own homes. I was especially close to Mark, my de facto protector, and was seldom apart from him. As one of the older grandchildren, Mark helped our grandmother to look after the younger ones.

To keep us quiet, he would bounce us on his lap as he watched television or played computer games. One day, as I sat on his lap, Mark asked everyone else to leave the room, saying that he needed some peace and quiet.

I thought nothing of it — we were a noisy bunch, so I figured he needed a reprieve. Once we were alone, Mark turned me to face him and kissed me full on the mouth. The smooch was anything but brotherly. A part of me was curious too, so I let him continue. Getting touchy-feely From then on, Mark would find reasons to hold my hand or touch some part of my body. Again, I let him because I saw them as affectionate gestures.

Instead, I felt special because Mark was giving me his full attention. My guess is that it went on for about a year — before he decided to take it further.

One afternoon, as I was getting ready for a nap, he followed me into the bedroom and locked the door. Then, he stripped and climbed into bed with me. Under the blanket, he asked me to remove all my clothes as well. I obeyed, never wondering why we had to be naked to take a nap. I never questioned his authority because I saw him as an older brother who could do no wrong. But before things could go any further, Grandma knocked loudly on the bedroom door.

She was yelling for us to unlock the door and come out of the room. I remember Mark telling me to quickly get dressed, as he did, before opening the door. Instead, she pulled Mark aside to talk. After that, Mark stopped molesting me.

He still cradled me on his lap when I asked him to and continued to show me brotherly affection, but he no longer touched me in all the wrong places. Grandma never spoke to me about what happened or sat me down to talk about the birds and the bees. Growing up, I never realised how close I had come to being raped. After that day, Mark acted like nothing had happened. In my ignorance, I forgot the smears of my childhood and even remained close to Mark until I was a teenager.

But when I turned 18, the memories somehow came flooding back. By then, I was old enough to understand that what my cousin did to me when I was a child was terrible and inappropriate.

I was appalled that he felt no remorse. We soon drifted apart, although he remained close to my sisters. I kept the shameful secret to myself for a very long time — I just felt so dirty and worthless.

Throughout my early adulthood, I suffered from low self-esteem. I felt insecure and hated the way I looked. Ironically, I made sex my comfort. It was my way out of a lonely existence.

I dated serially and had countless one-night stands, none of which filled the void inside me. Little did I realise that I was carrying a lot of anger inside as well.

I had a great need to be wanted, so I fell over myself trying to please my family, friends and the opposite sex. I wanted their acceptance so badly that I let people walk all over me. I repeatedly fell for the wrong guys — those who would string me along or use me for their pleasure before dumping me. We met a year ago, and he was the first man to accept me for who I was. He looked beyond my physical appearance and made me feel worthy to be loved.

I had an emotional connection with him — something I had never felt before with my casual flings. A month into our relationship, I told him about the abuse, fully expecting him to walk away. My sisters, who used to be close to Mark, now just maintain a cordial relationship with him. They never doubted me — the tears trickling down my cheeks as I related my ordeal convinced them I was telling the truth. I fight back instead. So when they saw how vulnerable I was, they knew I had gone through something terrible.

Acknowledging that I was molested made it easier to go forward. Because of what happened to me, I want to stand up against sexual abuse. I had to learn everything on my own, the hard way.

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4 Comments

  1. I wonder what life might have been like had these things not happened to me. My husband is a prominent business man and my family was steadfastly crocheted together hence I wouldn't be the one to expose it to public shame. Would Lori and I really be compatible in every way?

  2. There was the coworker who, in front of our shared work colleagues, announced that my breasts were like overgrown melons. That's within my 'co-wife's' docket.

  3. But before dropping me off, he asked if I could come into church a little early the next morning, so he could run through his sermon one more time in front of me. We saw each other every Sunday, but I made it a point to stay away from him. It would have been less painful, if my co-wife were not my very own daughter.

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