****** Growing Up as a Slut: 4 by Syndarella_Snowhite ******
===============================================================================

Growing Up as a Slut: 4


My name is Wendy. I like to think of myself as a reformed slut. I go online to
tell my story sometimes, to people who will listen. I figure it's therapy for
me, and if people get off by living vicariously through my experiences, well,
I'm glad to be of service.

I've discovered White Shadows stories, and have decided that this is a good
outlet for me, as no one interrupts me, and it seems to be a good method of
getting the feedback that I desire.

As I wrote in my previous sessions, I started very early, and became a
neighborhood and then a high school slut.

Soon after I 'won' a schoolteacher, I moved on, realizing that like many other
conquests, once I'd had him, the thrill was gone. He really wasn't as good as
I'd thought he might have been anyway. I'd heard that mature men were better
lovers, but it seemed a myth after that experience, and so I continued to work
my way through the ranks of boys at my school. There weren't that many
conquests left there, and I wasn't really into juniors. (Not often anyway,
though they were always very grateful, and I did more than my share of 'de
virgin-izing' young teenage boys, my brother included).

It was nearing the end of the school year, and at a time when I was just
becoming bored with the idea of sucking Mr. Markham's cock after class, I
noticed a boy in my geography class. He had just transferred in, after an
abrupt move from out west. I always thought it would be rough to change
schools, but especially so close to the end of the year. There was only like
two months left in the semester.

Of course I immediately noticed that he was cute. He was tall and thin, but his
body looked cut and defined. It was a runner's build as I was to learn shortly
after. It was well too late for him to get involved with any of the team
sports, and so he really felt like a fish out of water, unable to really bond
with any of the other guys.

As it turned out, one day the class got organized into a series of groups. Our
teacher was having us do this thing where you plot the cross section of
landmasses, and we were to work together to produce a multi-view 3 dimensional
rendition of a map we were given. There were four people in our group, and this
new guy was one of them.

I always hated group things like that, because I didn't really get along well
with my classmates. I mean, I fucked the guys all right enough but that didn't
always make for a really good 'working relationship', and the girls were
downright catty.

So there we were, this new guy, me, and two girls that I vehemently detested,
for which the feeling was obviously mutual. (The one girl, Carrie was her name,
well her ex boyfriend had done me right before picking her up for a date, and
of course it got around. The other b--..er girl was just an ugly piece
of...person that hadn't ever gotten laid that I'd ever heard about, and so that
sparked her jealousy toward me, I'm sure.)

This new guy could obviously sense the hostility, and was trying to get along
with everyone, and not really sure where to put his foot. I thought he was so
cute, especially because of his awkwardness. He seemed like he'd be a pretty
straightforward sort of guy if he were in his element.

He told us his name was Ryan, and I introduced myself as Wendy. (After which
Carrie added, 'Wendy the slut,' just loud enough for us to hear as she
pretended to look over her shoulder.) I smiled nicely at her as I usually do,
and he pretended not to hear it, or at least made no remarks. Then we set about
trying to get the task done.

There was no way the other two were going to cooperate with me, so it ended up
that Ryan, not wanting to just sit there and stare off into space, started
doing the work himself. I immediately joined him, and while the other two just
sat sulking, we got it nearly all complete in the time allotted.

When that class was over, and we were collecting up our things to move to our
next rotation, the other two were quick to dart out. I asked Ryan where he was
from, and he told me he grew up in Calgary. I thought that was pretty cool,
especially since he wore a cowboy hat, a black one. He was actually a senior,
in grade 12, but was taking our Grade 11 Geography to catch up on the credit.

For the rest of the day, I found myself thinking about him. Here was a guy who
knew absolutely nothing about my history or me. I could tell when he was
talking to me that he was genuinely interested, not just cruising to get laid,
which is what I was used to from guys.

Whenever we'd see each other in the halls, he was always ready with a fond
smile, and in that one class we shared, he always sat beside me. We chatted
often. I knew he was checking me out, his eyes lingering a little to long on my
chest, or catching glances of my ass when I walked, but he was trying to be so
wonderfully discreet.

After about a week he approached me with the classic 'wanna have dinner and a
movie?' offer. It was so sweet, because nobody had ever bothered with that
before. I agreed immediately. He was wonderfully charming. Many people would
say corny, but that was new to me. Guys were usually just crude in my
experience. I began to see how I might be treated if I didn't have my
reputation to haunt me.

Of course the word got around to him, but he refused to believe it. I guess
he'd made up his own mind that I was a good girl, and other guys were saying
things out of spite because I'd turned them down in the past. I never told him
the truth. I just kept my mouth shut, and tried to play the shy girl the best I
could.

While I was dating Ryan, I was still meeting with Mr. Markham at first, but as
I said, that was really losing its interest for me, especially when he started
getting really lovey-dovey on me. From Ryan it was sweet...but somehow from
this older man it was just sad. I broke it off soon after, part of it was for a
fear that Ryan might actually find out somehow.

It was a shock when Ryan asked me to be his date for the formal. (That's what
we call a 'prom' here.) I'd never been invited to one (juniors don't count),
and I'd never really wanted to go to one before. But when he asked me, I
agreed. I also decided that it was that night , after the formal, that I'd let
him sleep with me. I was so thrilled that we'd been dating for weeks and had
not had sex. I was playing my role as the good girl better than I'd ever done
before. I knew when I had my sexual release with Ryan it was going to be
wonderful...maybe just like society said it was supposed to be...

When the big night came, my mom was so happy. She must have known that I was
sexually active, but there's now way she knew HOW active. I think she often
worried that I didn't have a steady boyfriend. Ryan came to pick me up like the
perfect gentleman, and everything was just going grand. Even at the actual
dance, it was okay. Oh sure, I got all the evil stares, but my focus was just
on him.

Afterwards, we went back to his place. His father was a shift worker at a
factory, like so many people in our city, and was gone until morning. Ryan
brought me to his room, and my heart was beating hard in my chest at the
prospect of actually giving myself to this young gentleman. We sat on his bed,
still keeping up the illusion of being nonchalant. At some point he leaned over
to kiss me, and things just seemed to happen from there like an avalanche of
emotion. We melted into each other's embrace.

Our clothes came off, much of it awkward in our mounting rush, and before I
knew it, I was on my back, and he had fumbled through rolling a condom on. He
entered me gently, staring into my face. I was very wet by then so it was an
easy glide. He paused to savor the feeling of my body wrapped around his rod,
then pulled part way out and then slid all the way home again.

He started pumping away on me, breathing shallowly with every push. I lifted my
legs up a bit to have him deeper into me, but he placed his hands on them and
gently pushed them back down, using his grip to pull himself into me. He wasn't
really getting any leverage, and my poor clitoris wasn't getting the
stimulation it needed. I'd have reached down to do it myself, but I was too
afraid I'd offend him.

Almost as soon as it had begun, it was over, his body coming to a shuddering
climax inside his rubber, which was inside me. I fought down my own
disappointment. He was really excited after all. He'd paid me a really big
complement by coming so fast; he just couldn't control himself because he'd
wanted me so bad. At least that's what I told myself.

We cuddled for a bit, and I gently played with his softened cock in an attempt
to arouse him again. Rolling him onto his back, after a bit of fondling, I
lowered myself down and took him into my mouth. I sucked him steadily, fondling
him with my tongue, until at last I had him to a full erection. I rose up and
straddled him, prepared to mount his stiff cock, but he stopped me to put on
another condom.

I had to get off him, while he went to his desk, opening drawers to rummage
around looking for another. He was mumbling apologies as he searched, while I
waited, lightly playing with myself. Finally he found one and tore it out of
the wrapper. By that time he was half flaccid again. He put the rubber aside
and held out his cock to me with a questioning look. Cheerily I administered
him with my mouth again, intent on giving him a raging boner that I could at
last enjoy to my full contentment.

That is, until he let out a jet of cum into my mouth. I suppose I was better at
giving head than I realized, and it wasn't his fault...at least I told myself
that, making excuses for him. It shortly became obvious that that was all the
sex I was going to get that night, when he tossed the open but unused condom
into the waste basket and got up to pull on some gym shorts.

I was dropped off at home a little later. I was thoroughly disappointed, and
sorely tempted to call up some other guy I knew that wouldn't mind coming over
to fuck my brains out, but I knew that guys have big mouths and that would
surely get back to Ryan and humiliate him, and so I just tended to my own
needs.

In the morning he called me, and he made me feel good again about myself, so
the little episode was just pushed out of the way. We continued to date, and we
had sex a few more times, but it was becoming obvious that poor Ryan was
basically inept. Worse than that, I couldn't really teach him anything for fear
of making him think all the rumors about me were true... (which ironically they
were). And for fear of bruising the very large make ego that I was quickly
learning that he had.

I got the distinct impression that my brother Michael was jealous that I was
dating Ryan. Even though he was getting laid regularly by other girls, I think
he yearned to have another session with me, and hated the thought of me getting
attached to some guy. It was sweet, but I was going to stick by my word. Never
again.

Right at the end of the school year, a bunch of us got together for a bit of a
party to celebrate the start of our summer holidays. In those last couple
months of school, Ryan had eventually merged in with his type of peers, jock
types mostly, though the ones that leaned toward the easygoing pot smoker
athletes as opposed to the militant health-nut jocks.

As I was his girlfriend, I was grudgingly included into that peer group, and
amazingly, some of the girlfriends of his buddies started to get along with me,
once they realized that I was actually going steady with this guy and was no
longer such a threat.

The get-together was at Ryan's place. He and his father had a small rec room in
the basement, complete with a pool table and a few beaten up couches and such.
We had acquired a case of beer and a few bottles of Tequila, along with a small
ration of pot. There were just us four couples there, so it wasn't a 'party'
per se. I'd say it was a lot of fun, but the guys all got wasted pretty fast,
trying to be macho with the tequila.

They were uniformly passed out by ten o'clock, along with Nancy, one of the
girls, who had taken a spot on the floor beside her guy, and was curled up next
to him. That just left me and the two other girls. They were both getting tipsy
too, but though I was buzzing a bit, I felt like I was in control. I'd tended
to nurse my beers along.

So that's what Ryan's dad Dan came home from work that evening to see: His son
and four other guys passed out, one of them near a pool of vomit and a passed
out girl, and three other giggling teenage ladies. None of us were really
freaked by his arrival. He was middle aged, and was pretty easy going He was
always offering Ryan's friends beer whenever we were over, so when he saw that
the guys had abandoned us, he asked it would be okay if an old timer like him
joined us.

We all agreed, grinning, that we'd love to have him, at least one of us meaning
it more literally than the others.... So he sat with us and chatted away. As a
divorced guy in a new city, he was no doubt lonely too, and the beers kept on
coming. One of the girls suddenly jumped up with a yelp, and turned about,
laughing accusingly at Dan and shaking her finger. I take it he'd made some
kind of pinch or grope, and he just laughed it off, putting up his hands in a
gesture of harmless fun.

The other girl, claiming she was feeling way too dizzy, went over to the couch
to pass out, and shortly after, the one who'd been pinched, also sought out an
open place on the carpeted floor to crash.

That left Dan and I staring at each other in the very early hours of the
morning. There must have been wanton lust in my eyes. I was a slut who'd been
denied a decent fucking for nearly two months, and Dan was not an unattractive
man. He hadn't shaved that day, or it had regrown to stubble very quickly. He
was not overly tall, had the beginnings of a beer belly, and a slightly
receding hairline, but he was for the most part a solidly built person.
Masculine. Strong.

When he asked if I wanted to come see his boxing trophies, I got a tiny flutter
in my tummy. I knew then and there what was about to happen. I agreed with a
nod, and silently, weaving a bit in my tipsy state, followed him up the stairs
into the house proper.

Waiting at the foot of another flight of stairs, he stood beside me as if
afraid I might fall, and we walked up together, him just behind me. I swayed
slightly, halfway up, and he was quick to catch me in his arms, holding me
momentarily against his chest. My loss of balance was so slight that he had
obviously overreacted, but it was an excuse for him to touch me.

"Whoa there," he chided playfully, "are you gonna be able to make it honey?" I
nodded, with a shy smile, playing more tipsy than I actually was. It was
something I did rather often, that way people could never be quite sure how
inebriated I actually was. I'd been able to use it to excuse some of my more
risqué behavior as well.

We walked into his bedroom and again, as I crossed the threshold I got that
little flutter, and my sexual hunger began to awaken ever so slightly. Ryan's
dad turned on a bedside lamp providing a little light in the room. He then
directed me to where his dresser was.

A whole array of little trophies were on display there, along with some framed
photos of him in his younger years, bare-chested and decked out in boxing
trunks, and gloves. He looked an awful lot like Ryan then, only stronger, more
muscular, and with a look, -almost a sneer, that belied a youthful arrogance.

I leaned forward a little to look at one of the trophy inscriptions, and as I
did, I felt my behind bump into him. He was directly behind me, and I could
feel his breath near my neck.

"What do you think?" he asked quietly.

As I answered, with 'wow, pretty cool...' he placed his hands lightly on my
hips. I hesitated a second then continued, "You were a pretty good boxer it
seems."

"Well, pretty good," he said in mock modesty, and pulled me by the hips
slightly a little firmer against him.

"So you think boxing is pretty cool huh?" he asked, the question completely
irrelevant. I suppose he felt the need to keep making small talk, as if it
could some how disguise the way his hands were slowly moving around to my
stomach and sliding up towards the bottoms of my breasts. He kept talking,
almost a droning, as if he had turned on a tape recorder in his head, allowing
him to concentrate on feeling me up.

I humored him, dutifully answering all of his little queries and posing some of
my own, which he answered with equal nonchalance, even to the point where he
was soon grasping my teenage breasts, and squeezing them in his two palms. He
was lifting them gently as he stood behind me, and tugging them out and
forward, squeezing toward my nipples, then flattening them under his grasp only
to begin the cycle again.

Then he stopped talking altogether, and I felt a tingle as he nuzzled my neck,
and the scratchy sensation of his stubbled beard made the hairs on my neck
stand on end.

Taking a deep breath, I reached down to grasp the hem of my T-shirt and then
pulled it off over my head. That must have been his positive signal that I was
indeed ready to get it on. He wasted very little time in unclasping my bra at
the front, and then taking it off my shoulders to drape over one of his little
trophy-men with its bronze arms upraised.

Then he went back to feeling my exposed tits with a renewed vigor, paying
special attention to tweaking and rolling my nipples, now that they were open
to him.

He devoured my neck hungrily, and I had no choice but to sigh and stifle a
small moan of pleasure. I love my neck lightly bitten, though that was the
first time I realized that fact about my body. It made me tense up with chills
that ran the whole length of my spine.

His hands, having thoroughly claimed my naked chest, now went down, searching
for new plunder. He slipped them, fingers first, into the top of my jeans, also
slipping inside the elastic band of my panties. His fingers paused momentarily
when they brushed the top wisps of my trimmed pubic hair, then invaded further,
making my knees weaken a little and my tummy flutter some more.

I'm sure he felt my wetness immediately, and his fingers probed at my clitoris,
though he was still quite restricted in his movements within my pants. I
rectified that quickly by undoing my button, unzipping and then pushing them
down to my thighs. He took over, sliding my jeans down the whole length of my
legs, pausing to kiss the backs of my thighs along the way.

I stepped daintily out of them, or at least tried, turning one pant leg inside
out and losing my balance. I placed one hand on his head for balance, other on
the dresser. He stayed down on his knees, and firmly gripped my hips to turn me
around to face him. Then he dove his face into my pubic mound, tongue first.

Keeping my hands on his head, my knees buckled a bit as I felt him probing into
me. His tongue tapped against my clit and then worked its way in a full circle
very lightly then he roughly licked into me again. His stubble was scratchy
almost like sandpaper, but it contrasted perversely with the pleasure it
accompanied.

I was shuddering in no time, pushing my pelvis tightly against his face,
falling back to brace against his dresser, causing some of the trophies to tip
back. With his hands on my hips he kept up a firm pressure no matter how I
gyrated, and I was very quickly moaning like a hussy, and gasping in that
girlish way.

I was getting the best head I'd ever had in my entire life. When I came to a
crashing orgasm, mashing myself into his poor lips despite the pain of his
growth, I learned that my pleasure wasn't yet over.

He rose back up, and somehow knowing that I was now nothing more than his
puppet, he turned me around again and lightly kicked his instep against my feet
to get me to widen my legs. Bending me over, I braced against his dresser,
staring at my discarded bra. I heard the rustle of his clothing, as he massaged
one of his hands up and down my spine, and then I felt his other hand between
my parted legs, guiding his cock to the entrance of my pussy. He slipped his
head up and down along my slit a few times before pushing inside me with a
steady pressure.

My pussy was wide-awake from his oral ministrations and eagerly welcomed this
foreign flesh into me. I hadn't yet got a look at his cock, but as it slid into
me, I tried to gauge it. It was one of the thickest that I'd ever experienced,
and seemed to keep on coming, plowing apart my pussy lips, stretching them,
until at last his hips touched the cheeks of my ass.

Then he began a slow but rhythmic thrusting. The third stroke he pulled out too
far in his growing lust, his wet cock slipped along the inside of my thigh for
a short second. He quickly reinserted it for a few very slow pushes, then got
himself back up to speed. I let out a small mewling sound with each fully
penetrating push. That turned him on even more, as I felt his cock throb with
his pulse inside me.

He alternated between shallow, fast pumping, and hard quick jabs. He went from
laying his chest on my back, while pawing my tits, to leaning back, with his
hands pulling my hips back hard against his thrusting pelvis.

He was grunting in that manly way which, was turning me on almost as much as
the frantic pistoning of his cock. I loved the sensation, even though my arms
were getting tired of supporting me against his pounding, and my weak knees
were not doing their share in holding me up. I was now bobbing my whole body
against the rising momentum of his fucking.

What a sight we must have been. The thought of a mirror had quickly crossed my
mind. I'd have loved to see this older man using my young body, pounding it
like I was his personal toy. And seeing me grow weak with the mounting
sensations.

He was coming very close to blowing his load, I could tell, and I told myself
to just hold out for a bit longer. Miraculously, he pulled himself out abruptly
and snatched me up into his arms. He carried me roughly over to his bed and
tossed me down so hard that I actually bounced.

He crawled on his knees onto the bed, moving himself up between my legs. I
naturally opened them wider for him. In the dimness, I could see his raging
hard-on swaying back and forth almost comically as he got himself into
position. When I made eye contact with him, I saw such a burning lust there
that I was almost frightened. He was no longer my boyfriend's nice daddy, he
was a man who desperately wanted to fuck me long and hard. And he was going to
get what he wanted. Regardless.

Just the sense that I may not be in control set me into a small panic at first.
Would he stop if I told him to? Would anyone else hear if I called out? What
might he do to me if I did?

All of those questions became moot as I felt him thrust his thick, long dick
deep into me again, until his balls slapped against my skin. He began to hump
me with a renewed frenzy, his arms propping him up on either side of my head.
He was watching my face intently, and must have liked seeing the effects his
pumping cock was having on me. I closed my eyes, and tossed my head back and
forth, moaning again like the teenaged slut that I knew I was, and that he now
also knew.

He was fucking his son's teenaged girlfriend, the fantasy of many fathers no
doubt, and he was fucking her well and good. He was showing her what a Man
could do, compared to the boys she was used to. All the while, his son slept in
a drunken stupor down just a few flights of stairs while his father possessed
the young woman savagely.

After another twenty minutes of alternate slow and fast pumping, he slammed
extra hard against me, and then again, and then again, hard enough to push me a
few inches on the bed until was against the headboard, but that third time he
let out a prolonged grunt/growl, and then I could feel the steady pulses of his
cum filling me up.

He collapsed on top off me, my body still skewered on his cock as I could feel
the hot jet of his semen continuing to spurt into me. Then he relaxed, and I
noticed that we were both slick with perspiration.

He pulled out of me and rolled over. I lay absolutely still for a while not
making a sound. So did he. He mumbled a bit and then was quiet. I daren't ask
him to repeat what he'd said.

It seemed like hours before I realized he was asleep. My heart was still
pounding and my pussy could still feel the ghostly sensation of him fucking me.
I got up ever so quietly. I was a little sore I realized, as I grabbed my
panties, jeans and T-shirt.

I left his room and got dressed quickly in the hall. I walked outside and was
home within the hour.

Ryan and I broke up the next week. He never said why, but I think having left
my bra in his dad's room had a lot to do with it. Of all the people who
resented me and called me slut and worse, he became the most vehement.

I never saw his father again, though I remembered that torrid session we had,
and called it up in my fantasies often enough. It was one of my best encounters
to date. My summer was pretty miserable. I didn't stop being a slut, but the
enjoyment I got from it seemed permanently tarnished some how, partly because I
couldn't find someone with Dan's talent with his cock, and partly because I
thought my bizarre appetite for seduction had cost me a normal relationship.

In September, I went back as a senior for grade 12, and I met a new student
there, a girl who would seem to be a bitter rival and enemy, but who ultimately
became my closest friend.

But more on that another time.

Write me?

syndarella_snowhite"hotmail.com