I'm married to Kristen 6 years now. She is my first wife - I'm her fourth husband. Both of us are 37 years old.
She has a 16 years old son, Roy. A cute and intelligent boy with whom I had hit off from day one, and we are very good friends. Circumstances brought me to tell her a few things by letter and not in the way of conversation. The subject was a bit painful for me, and I'm thinking a lot better while writing. Read my letter and you'll understand.
On our first year of marriage you asked several times about my family and I avoided the question. It's time now that you learned something about me. At the end I'll give the reasons why I have decided to tell you the story now.
My Dad got killed in Kuwait when I was 10, and I lived alone with my mother who had not remarried. Up to the age of 16 I had a very normal life, and then it started to change.
I was not the most popular boy in my class, being interested in science and Math, but much less in sports and in girls. So I was very glad when my classmate, Steve, accepted my invitation for a sleepover at my home on a weekend.
As of the week after that I started noticing some strange things. First, I became popular and more classmates hinted that they want to have a sleepover at my place. I was only too happy to oblige, and I started having boys over every weekend. First one guy at a time, then two, and it quickly became four boys at a time. My mother was very nice on those visits. Apart from the regular meals, she started to serve us some hot chocolate in the evening and she was generally nice with the boys.
The next thing I noticed, which was very irritating, was that on the Fridays that I had the boys over - I got tired and fell asleep very early, at about 9 pm, when I usually stayed awake till midnight.
Next, boys, and later girls too, started laughing at me in school. It started in a subtle way, behind my back, fingers pointing, conversations that stopped when I came near, snickers and sniggers, and it developed to a situation in which everybody present was roaring with laughter whenever I came near.
Being what I am, it took me months to figure that something fishy was going on. I still did not make the connection with the sleepovers though. One day, near the end of the school year, I cornered one of the guys and started asking what was going on. He avoided answering me until I grabbed his throat and started squeezing. Then he agreed to tell me only one thing:
"Next time you have guys for a sleepover, don't drink the hot chocolate your mother gives you, but pretend to be tired, go to bed and pretend sleeping. After half an hour you'll find out what it's all about."
Seemed strange what the connection could be between my mother's hot chocolate and the whole school laughing at me, but I had to check it out.
True enough, the next Friday I had three boys staying with me for a sleepover. When my mother served the usual hot chocolate in the evening I pretended to drink it, while I actually poured it into the kitchen sink. When I saw expectant eyes looking at me I started yawning, and after a few minutes excused myself and went to bed. The guys came in a few minutes later and lay on their beds - without undressing.
After about half an hour my mother came in, and checked that I was asleep. I even feigned some light snoring, which seemed to have satisfied mother. She beckoned with her finger to the three boys and they got up and left the room.
I had not the faintest idea what this was all about, but I waited about 15 minutes and then sneaked out of my room. The first thing that hit me was the sounds from my mother's bedroom - sounds I have not heard since my Dad had died. Her bedroom door was wide open, probably because I was supposed to be deep asleep. The sight I saw when I got to her door was like a well placed fist in my stomach.
There was my mother with my three friends, all of them naked and fucking like crazy. One boy was on his back with mother straddling him, his cock moving fast in and out of her cunt. The second boy was behind her, fucking her hard in the ass, something I saw once in a porn movie and thought that people don't really do. The third boy was fucking her mouth at a high speed. The sounds I heard were my mother's moans of pleasure and the boys' grunting and groaning. Just as I stood there dumbfounded they came one after the other and pulled out of her. She shouted at them:
"That was just the beginning, boys. Now let's see who gets it up first, come on. I need much more than what you gave me, so let me see some erections here!"
That was when I also noticed that they all had cocks much bigger than mine, but at the time I did not see this as anything important.
The truth dawned on me and hit me in my face. For months, mother had been drugging me and fucking my friends. This explained my growing popularity, my sleepy Fridays and all the laughter at school.
You see, that's when I started getting used to being humiliated.
As soon as the summer vacation started I packed a small bag and left home. I had enough money saved so that I could go the distance of three states by bus. Now I needed work, a place to sleep and continuing school.
Needless to say that from the moment I left home - I've never contacted my mother, and I don't even know - or care - whether she is alive or not.
I had myself caught on purpose by the police, and was handed over to the welfare authorities of the town I was in. I refused to give my correct identity or my original address, so within just a few days I was assigned to a foster home. At the foster home I met for the first time a girl who wanted to have sex with me. I later learned that she had had sex with any male who was close enough. Anyway, we got undressed, and the minute she saw my cock she burst laughing. It took her a while to calm down so that I could ask what she was laughing about, and she pointed out that with the size of my cock, or more precisely the lack of it, I was a joke of a man and not a real man. She kept taunting me about my cock size day and night until I ran away.
You see, I was beginning to get used to being humiliated.
.... There is more of this story ...