This is my entry in the Nude Day contest on another site. I thought I would share it with the readers on this site. A big thank you to Mistress Lynn and Techsan for their editing of this story.
My life has always been different than most. My mom was a prostitute. I never knew my dad and never had any siblings. Other than knowing my mother, I could almost be an orphan.
My name is John Taylor but my friends always called me Zeke. One day someone called me Zeke and I thought it was cool so I've been Zeke ever since.
I am forty-six years old and manage a resort on some ocean front property. Before getting into that part of my life, I think I should go back and tell you about my early years.
I was born in a somewhat slum area in any Large Town USA. At my earliest recollections, mom and I lived in an old mobile home near her place of business. She worked in a brothel or on the streets. We had two other prostitutes who lived with us. They helped pay the bills and took care of me when my mom was working.
I grew up fast and became a real bad ass. I was a bully and I was one of those who took other kids' lunch money and was in trouble all the time. Mom must have come to the school at least five times every year. I didn't have many friends. I spent most of my time fending for myself.
The funny thing is I had brains. I mean it; I was really smart. If I wouldn't have skipped school so much I would have been an all A student. Looking back, I had to wonder if I had a guardian angel watching over me. Mom and her roommates were all on crack. The money they whored went to buy their fixes. I was still able to survive.
We went though a number of boarders who also were whores and crack addicts. Life growing up sure sucked. I guess it's why I always got into trouble. I'll tell you about my sex life after turning eighteen. I was a junior in high school. They held me back one year for missing so much school. For dinner I would usually stop at McDonalds and get myself a Big Mac and fries, come home and whichever one of the boarders was home, I'd have sex with. I was a strapping lad and they liked the change from the men who bought their services. I could be rough with them; it's what they were used to.
I swear that the only one I never put my dick in was my mother. I thought about it but could never get myself to do it. Of course, I've seen her naked plenty of times passed out drunk.
Until I graduated that was pretty much my life. I got my money by stealing it from the whores when they laid passed out. I never took much, maybe ten or twenty bucks at a time and never enough for them to notice.
Thinking back, I've probably fucked more passed out women than most men have fucked their own wife. It's something to look back over my life and wonder how I ever made it through. Of course, it left me with little respect for most women. I mean in a marrying way. I could never picture myself tied down to one woman.
I wanted to stay away from the house as much as possible so I went to bodybuilding at school. I didn't want to be a big muscled guy but I liked the looks of six pack abs and a defined body. In my senior year, we had all these military people asking us to join up.
I really wanted to get out on my own and I knew college was out of the question. My grades were good but my high school records were marked troublemaker. Besides, I had no one to help me with other expenses even if I got a scholarship, so I enlisted in the Army.
I will admit that on my first day of basic training I figured I made the wrong decision. I wasn't good at taking orders from anyone. For about a good month, I got my ass kicked by my Drill Sergeant. He would give me orders and I wouldn't follow them. He'd make fun of my mom or me and I would start the fight. Within seconds, it was over with me down on my ass.
It's funny looking back but I really respected my Drill Sergeant. I guess he was the first man I looked up to in my life. One day he called me into his office and told me he might have to let me go with a dishonorable discharge. I just wasn't able to follow orders. He told me I had the brains and the brawn to become a good soldier but I wasn't trying and he couldn't waste his time on a loser.
Something woke up in me. If they released me from the service, what would I do? I had nobody and I sure didn't want to return to whore town. I think the Sergeant saw the scared look in my eyes.
I asked him to give me one more chance. I promised him I would do whatever it took to be a soldier. I'd stop the complaining and obey all the commands. "Please, Sergeant, give me one more chance," I begged.
"Zeke, you can make a great soldier. You need to control that temper and put that brain to good use. Give yourself a chance to succeed. I'll give you one more chance. You fuck up again and you're out."
To make a long story short, I tried like hell. I ended up being one of the top recruits in our squad. I also found out that I now had friends, real friends. They were my Band of Brothers. They sent me for more training after boot camp. I started out as a pretty generic soldier. There really wasn't much I couldn't do if I set my mind to it.
I was going overseas but I did get a two-week leave before going out of the country. I went home and said goodbye to my mother. I know she was a whore and a crack addict but she was still my mother. Unlike most of the other women, she chose to keep me instead of getting an abortion. I only stayed home a few days. I decided to go with a couple of my new buddies and see their hometowns.
I guess I didn't realize that not everyone had my kind of upbringing. I felt slighted when my new friends said goodbye to their families. We might all be born equal but we sure weren't raised equal. I never really had that real family balance.
Our squad headed overseas where we were to be near some war zones but we were more like backups and replacements. It was a good three months before we saw any action.
The Army ended up being my life. I spent the next twenty-five years overseas.
I received a letter that my mom had died of an overdose two years after I had left. I had nothing to return to then. I went to my bunk and cried. She was my mother and gave me a chance at life. When I called home they told me they had enough money to cremate her and that was it. I never returned home again. I let her so called friends have her belongings.
My sex life was a wild one. I fucked women from just about every ethnic group. I do have to say that I didn't find a lot of difference among them. Sure, some were a hell of a lot better in bed than others but it had nothing to do with race. There never was any love so it was always just sex.
I've been to swingers parties, threesomes and moresomes. It was all about sex. I never married; in fact, I hardly dated. In most of these countries, I would pick up a prostitute and fuck her. There were many times I would just go to a bar and pick up a woman who looked like she wanted sex. I'd get a room and we would fuck.
I do have to say that there was something different about fucking married women. Not the ones who did it for money because I always figured they were doing it to earn a living or to support their habits. I'm talking about the ones who took trips overseas and fucked around.
I could never understand how a man could let his wife fuck another man and just sit there and watch. It was above my comprehension. I have been with a number of married women and their husbands either watched or joined in.
Then there were the cheating wives. They go out there and fuck other men. When I asked them why they would do it, I got answers like these:
"My husband doesn't pay attention to me."
"I like the danger in not getting caught."
"What my husband doesn't know won't hurt him."
Their excuses are endless. Probably the most used one is, "I love my husband but I need more excitement in my life."
I guess that's why I never have been serious about any woman. My history around women is that everyone seems to cheat. I just didn't want to come home someday and see someone boffing my wife.
While in the service, I constantly upgraded my education. I took courses learning languages and business etiquettes. I needed to build some kind of future upon retirement. I saved most of my money since I really didn't have a lot to spend it on. The Army supplied most all my needs and I had no one to send it home to so I just let it accumulate.
I was a master sergeant as I neared the end of my twenty-five years. A businessman I knew asked about my plans for the future. He owned a small resort on the ocean. He told me he was getting too old and wanted to retire. He then asked me if I would be interesting in buying it from him after retiring.
I should let you know that I had known him for many years and have spent many nights at his resort. He was one of my true friends who wasn't in the military. I had told him about my life over the years and he told me about his.
His wife had passed away about three years ago and he just wasn't the same anymore. He had built his resort from scratch and didn't want to see it fall apart or some big franchise coming in and tearing it down.
I explained to him that I didn't have near enough money to buy the place. We talked it over for a few months and decided that I would buy an interest in it. We would keep on the existing employees so no one would lose their job. Of course, the profits were from the bottom line but we'd split them fifty-fifty. We had an account for upkeep and repairs.
As soon as I retired from the army, I headed over to our resort.
.... There is more of this story ...