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Eagerly Rough

   This entry has taken some time for me to get the balls to write. Not only because it's shameful...but also because it's truly been a part of me buried deep inside. I'm ready to dig it up. To feel the cold black dirt against my palms as I grasp this part so far down inside me, a place only I have been. These feelings, the events that took place on that night have sometimes been a burden on my heart, but also a way to escape the world I'm trapped in. This event started a fire inside me....one that to this day still burns as bright as the moon on that night.

Here's goes everything....I was lying in my bed in my room that my sister and I shared. I see my step brother ( NOT the one that made me touch him when I was younger) pop his head in my door, wildly handsome...strong arms, nice body.. I have wanted him for some time now. It's been hard lying here at night sometimes so wet for him that I can't stand it anymore.  He asks if I want to come in his room and hang out. Of course I did...so we went in there, my youngest bioligical brother fast asleep. We were quiet. Talked a little bit. I sat on his bed...I am not quite sure who's hand wandered first, but our eyes had wandered for years no doubt. The next thing I know I am kissing his lips and he's kissing mine back. Oh my heart was racing, wildly flipping in my chest. He was a little rough, not in a bad way but.....eagerly rough. Hormones raging in both our bodies, almost seeping through our warm skin onto the other. He touched my breasts, down my legs, then finally his fingers were inside me. I felt so free. Free to feel the obvious wrongness of the situation, but also free to breathe in this highly erotic moment. Next, my mouth met his cock. And to taste him...ohhh how I had always wanted this. He couldn't take it any longer. He asked me to let him fuck me. I couldn't. I was a virgin. He wanted to so badly and of course it would have been some hot scene out of a porno. Title reads: "Big-titted sister lets step brother take her virginity". Before I left his room he told me if I ever told anyone what happened that he would kill himself. What a buzz kill....

    Was I insane for loving every second of this? The next morning was a littke akward, but we got over it. To this day, I still want him. Is that bad? As an adult, I have tried to avoid him at points...mainly because I know we are both weak. Or is it strength? At this point, it's kind of hard to tell. If the moment was right, I know that I would end up on his bed with his cock deep inside me.

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Forgiveness

It is clear to me now how incredibly forgiving I am. As humans, we should practice forgiveness when possible. As children of sexual abuse, we learn this early. We try to forget...but also never to remember, for all the good is mixed with the bad...and when we think of happy memories, we have bad memories also associated with that happy memory. It makes it hard to think clearly... It's like: Well...my biological grandfather put in a pool for us and it's great but all I can think of when I get in is how my female cousin and I touch each other under the water when we get in. How good her fingers feel inside me and yet how incredibly dirty I feel at the same time....but yeah, it's a great pool, lot of fun. This is why forgetting is easier. This is why remembering is hard. This is how shame lives inside me, feeding off the good parts in me until there is little left. This is why when you ask me how I'm doing, I lie. I can forgive myself for that...it's forgetting that's impossible.

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Awkward Displays of Affection

Right before my 13th birthday, I was riding my bike with my friend and then the next thing I know, I wake up in the Children's Hospital with a tube down my throat. I had been hit by a car and luckily the damage was minimal with only a few scrapes and bruises and a skull fracture. My friend was by my side as I healed and eventually went home. We started to hang out quite a bit. Innocent sleepovers turned into awkward displays of affection....or maybe it was just the curiosity of it all. Either way, our hands wandered....and then eventually our tongues. It was...intense but also very soothing, as this was a feeling I was all too accustomed to. We hid our little secret like the ocean tide hides seashells in the sand, so very naturally and with great ease. We eventually started amping it up , going online together, having sexual conversations with strangers, taking provacative pictures of each other and sharing them with horny, cum-thirsty sickos. It's true that our upbringings and experiences weighed heavy on those moments, but society did as well.  Boasting it's big-titted, barely legal bimbos and telling us everyday that we aren't good enough. And somehow, we believed them. It was clearly obvious......

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Direct Correlation

   What's worse than your step grandfather touching your private parts? Wondering if it was your fault. If YOU did something to lead him on....if you would have just had some sweatpants on. It's true that as children our innocent minds know nothing of cause and effect. If mine did, I may have realized that not wearing pants does not directly correlate with a man's hand on my lady parts. Thus possibly making it easier to deal with the shame and guilt that came with the whole ordeal. But, are we really ever ready for someone to violate our bodies? Adults have issues dealing with sexual abuse. Not knowing how this would all pan out until currently, I now ask myself if my mother would have helped me....if she would have pulled me out of that situation, would I be a different person? And I suppose that is a pretty normal question that people in my predicament ask themselves, more than once. 

 So, my mom and I have a pretty strange relationship. I tell her my secrets because I know she won't say anything to anyone. I learned that when she hid my sexual abuse. I learned exactly who she was at that very moment when she looked at me and denied my very real, painful experience. We never talked about it again. As a child, to me that meant it wasn't very important. I wasn't very important. Later in life, that would prove to be a very large part of my low self esteem and self criticism. I wish I could say that this is where my story ends. That after that I went on to become some amazing person....but that's just not the case.

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Eruption

A few years later, around age 9, my family and I were camping.  In the tent, I got the lucky spot beside my 12 year old step brother. That night, while I was trying to fall asleep, my step brother took my hand and put it down his pants. I didn't know what to do....so I just kind of laid there. I could have easily ended it there...some girls would have, but girls like me, the nice ones, we stay quiet. I wonder how many other people he had done this to....was I the first or one of many? Staying quiet proved to be the best for me considering the following year, my step grandpa also decided that he was allowed to touch. I was about 10 years old. Laying on the couch at his house...my mom just in the other room fast asleep. I was only wearing a big t-shirt and my panties. I felt something and somehow I knew exactly who it was. He'd been watching me grow up....saw my breast forming into a more womanly fashion. I peeked out of one eye to see him pervertedly stroking my panties. Oh, the heat that engulfed my entire body made it hard to move. Like I was lava that had just hardened after a vocanic eruption. I am quite positive that was not the only "eruption" of the night, as I can imagine him in the bathroom right afterwards stroking his cock to the thought of his blossoming step granddaughter. Sick. 

  Lucky for me, I got the courage up to turn around and he went away. A few days later, I wrote my mom a letter telling her what happened....she didn't believe me at first and even if she ever did I couldn't tell...the next weekend we were right back over there..same couch, same cover, same scared little girl. Years went by, he never did touch me again, but it only took once for me to realize that being alone with him was not a good idea. When he died years and years later, I placed a rose on his grave and like a nice little girl, I forgave him. I forgave that sorry ass motherfucker. 

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Appeasement

Innocently Dirty...what an oxymoron. What about the saying " as innocent as a child"? Are children really innocent, free from sin and pure, if they are dressing in a sexy nightie in order to appease a childhood playmate? I have struggled with this false sense of innocence for a long time. The 7 year old neighbor girl thing only deepened. As did my need for satisfaction. From sleepovers to husband-wife roleplay in the playhouse, this for me was the begining. Had it stopped there, I may have had a fighting chance...but the world had other plans for me and this time: It left me in the hands of my oldest step brother......

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Innocently Dirty

So...to recap, dirty...dirty is how I felt at 7 years old with another 7 year old girl's hands down my panties. What's even dirtier?? The way I felt once my hands were down hers. I do understand that curiousity is a normal childhood thing. But, when you are a child, it feels anything but normal. To a little girl, normal is playing with barbies, not picking out the sexiest thing in your underwear drawer to get your 7 year old neighbor hot for you. Normal...nope. But, that's exactly what happened. To this day, I still recall that little white romper I so eagerly boasted...so innocently dirty.

INNOCENTLY: free from moral wrong; withoutsin; pure:

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Dirty

First of all...hi! I am new to this blogging thing. My hopes are that you will get a glimpse into the life of me, a highly sexual female. So, ok, we ALL know that men are sex freaks! But did you know that women can be just as sexual (if not more) than thier male counterparts?? Now as for this blog, I can be mildly volgur at times and will probably just tell you how it is...are you ready for that?? GREAT! Let's start where this story begins. That would be wayyyyy back as a child. 7 years old to be exact. They say it's normal to explore as a child...normal doesn't mean it feels right. As I lay next to a girl my age with her hands down my panties...I don't feel normal at all. Then enters shame and guilt. And all those other feelings that early childhood sexual encounters bring...mostly I would say I felt dirty. Little did I know, that feeling would stay with me through adulthood. DIRTY: 1. covered or marked with dirt; filthy