I feel I’m no different from any other woman alive. I want my freedom as our forefathers envisaged, not domination or subjugation, that’s a sexual state of mind, not a gender or a political thing.
To see a beautiful young woman, a teenager, or younger, and want to lift her skirt, pull her pants down, and have those minutes with her, then walk away, satisfied in the knowledge that you left her with something that could change her life forever, is a male dominating, testosterone loaded, fantasy that has been with us since time immortal.
The world over females have been crushed, used and abused, religious, because we are the breeders to increase their numbers, ignorance like that is easily accepted by men wanting uncontrolled sexual pleasures from women too young to understand what’s happening to them, and political, men and women, given power by the people they fuck, or dictatorial, where daughters are rounded up in a whim, formed into harems, where they are debauched with impunity.
History has taught women to be submissive, after all we signify the highest pleasure men seek, I would never be the first or the last girl told to wait behind in class, to be caned, flogged, birched and penetrated, by a man in trust.
How many young girls go home with semen flooding into their cotton knickers, another man’s testicular contents, slowly stirred all day as he thinks about her, and waits his chance, to press his cock into those under-developed labia, feel her hymen stretch against his bullet headed shape, and the rush of heat, as she stretches and moulds for the first time in her life around his cock, each thrust bringing a gasp, her feet rising to her toes, her delicate panties on the floor.
Most girls bleed by eleven now, you pump her full of that baby making shit, and her belly will swell by twelve, what a powerful image this conjures up in the perverted mind of a man wanting to fuck a girl, even his daughter, lying there cradling her teddy bear, while her body makes your baby, preferably, another little girl, my daddy had it all.
‘Why daddy why’?
It started during bath time, a soapy finger cleaned down there, each time a little further in until he could feel me around him squeezing his finger involuntary, like a heart that beats without anyone telling it, I was involuntarily reacting to his insertion, how can a girl midway through her first decade on Earth, do something so feminine, he must have thought, and his cock, that big fat thing he made me kiss and lick like a lollipop, wanted to know why his finger got all the fun, he was made to do that job, and daddy knew his cock was right, held him and said sorry to him, and let him push all the way inside me, and for the next five years, went all the way, knowing he was safe as houses, only stopping when he finished pumping.
Bleeding brought on those could be tell tail signs that someone has been messing around with a little girls vagina, a forbidden fruit that most men savour.
Daddy’s fair weather friends would call around, bringing beers, just to look at me, all tarted up like a girl wearing her mother’s clothes, they would stare and daddy knew it, he told me they would, and touch me between my legs, ‘Now you be a little tease for daddy’, he would say thickly, ‘and let those nice men see your slit’, and at that, I let those perverts see, and look, and soon the perversion became a thing of normality, and I would sl**p at night with my teddy bear between my legs, thinking about those men seeing me, as I squeezed and ground face down onto my bed sheets, with daddy standing over me, tugging away at his flaccid penis, all the joys of being inside me worn out through time, like an athletes early burn-out.
Paradox, know I was the one in my early teens, getting annoyed, I wanted him to love with the passion he used to show, between my legs, and now all he managed was a mutual chugging, watching my bum cheeks contract during my orgasm, and creaming them with a few dollops of his semen, which were painted over them until it disappeared.
I was f******n when I took delivery of the local sex stores catalogue. Daddy was shocked to say the least, he had spent the last nine years indulging in his daughters pleasures, to even see that the world had changed outside our front door. I was wanting a vibrator, a dong, and a butt plug, the holy trinity amongst f******n year old’s in school.
Daddy was fascinated and intrigued with a new found keenness about my poop hole being an insertion point, and soon the idea of it, started to pump the bl**d back into his penis, I lay face down over the table with my face on the butt-plus page, feeling my fathers new found eagerness, drive into me, and for the next year, I walked to school with semen seeping from my rear.
By sixteen every hole I possessed was exhausted and the pleasure had seeped away, run its course like well worn marriage, I was fucked out, and inside a vibrant tight sex hungry young body, something had to give, daddy had created me, and now he was not up to maintaining the sex machine he had craved.
I sent my references of the film companies that made porn, but was told I was too young, you can imagine how I laughed. My beauty was turning heads, old men dribbled in my company, and suddenly it dawned on me, sex was big money, and the silken purse between my legs, now contained heavy ‘Ben-Wa Balls’, jingling and titillating on public transport, as men dreamed around me, and so they should, holding these babies in-situ, exercised my vag, more than riding a horse for ten miles, no wonder men were cumming, just trying to get it up me.
Yes, men like daddy create and mould sexual b**sts like me, put those dirty thoughts into my being, that have excited him since he was a boy. Men who wash their daughters bodies and wonder how she feels like, are jealous of other men being there first, after all she was created by him, for him to enjoy long before others tread in his footsteps, and then their is the added bonus, for everyone like me, there are thousands more, and we always seem to seek each other out, and bring them home to share in our perverted pleasures.