Chapter 1

I was a young girl when my dad was stricken with ALS and he was placed in a long-term care hospital. ALS is called “Lou Gehrig’s Disease” named after Lou Gehrig; the great New York Yankee first baseman who died within three years of his disease being diagnosed. By the time Daddy was permanently hospitalized he was unable to talk and could barely walk. I loved my dad, and I know he loved me as well. He used to call me his “little angel.” One day I came home from school and he was gone, he had been taken away that morning.

I was angry and confused. For me, he had just disappeared. Distraught, I didn’t understand why he was stolen from me. I didn’t understand that ALS lasted only about three years, there was no cure, and the victim becomes dependent on family or outside help until they must go to a care facility and soon die. Daddy was dependent upon my mom, who did everything for him. She had lived in such an impossible situation until she could do no more without permanent help.

When I found out that Daddy was gone Mom told me he would not be coming back and said, “But don’t worry, Rachel, soon a new daddy would be coming to live with us.” I couldn’t believe she said it so casually but I didn’t know what she had been going through as a caregiver for someone who had no hope of living. Also, I didn’t know Mom was having an affair with another man.

It wasn’t easy for me to welcome Cleve. When Dad still lived at home I remember frequently going to other people’s homes where the adults would party where there was always the smell of liquor. As our parents and their friends danced and inevitably got drunk, we children played with each other in the basement. Before Dad became incapacitated Mom would bring him. He couldn’t do anything other than sit in a chair, listen to music, and watch the others have fun. I remember Mom dancing and drinking with different men, getting chummy, and often disappearing with one of them. After what seemed like a long time I wondered where they went and what they might be doing. Within a week of my real father being sent away, I had a “new dad,” who went to the same parties with us. But after Cleve came Mom would only disappear with Cleve.

Cleve was a short, stocky but good-looking man who, during the week, worked and stayed at the logging camp where he worked. He came home most weekends and, when he was drinking, which was most of the time, he was mean as hell. He had two sons who he brought to live with us. One of the boys was a year older than me. The other was a year younger. I had two younger brothers, one three years younger and the other younger by six years. It wasn’t long before I found out how strong he was, and that he was mean as hell. Although I didn’t know it at the time Mom and Cleve had been having an affair from the time Dad had become disabled.

I didn’t know that Mom was an alcoholic. But when Cleve came, they seemed to drink booze most of the time and were visibly often under the influence. Cleve spent money on sexy lingerie for Mom that she wore unashamedly around the house. It didn’t seem to matter to her that my brothers or me, or Cleve’s sons, were there when she paraded around with her tits showing through the see-through material. When Cleve was home on weekends, it was a common sight on Saturday and Sunday mornings to see her at the kitchen table in that sexy stuff where see-through tops and panties were normal.

Mom, who was absolutely beauty had a great body, with large breasts—44 DD or 46D and loved showing off her tits and hairy pussy. And there was no question that she wasn’t crazy about Cleve. He bought Mom revealing blouses she wore almost every Friday and Saturday night to dances at the American Legion Hall. When they came home from the dances, they were usually both drunk. More often than not Mom was passed out from drinking so much booze. Frequently Cleve would carry her into the house and put her to bed.

One night, after he dropped Mom on the bed, Cleve reeling with the smell of liquor, came to my room, sat on the edge of my bed covered my mouth with his rough hand, and shushed me. In a shocked surprise, I tried not to struggle (he was quite powerful) Sliding his other hand under the blanket he began feeling my tits, which he had been continually gaping at since I had developed so early. With a handful of my tit, he warned me that I could never tell anyone, “No one would believe you anyway.” After the first time, this happened frequently and It wasn’t long before he was finger fucking me. He no longer put his hand over my mouth, I knew when to keep quiet. I didn’t like what he was doing to me, he was rough and his hands were scratchy. By the time I was fourteen, he was fucking me two or three times a month which went on for a little over a year. I never looked forward to what Cleve did to me when he came to my room. But in all honesty, his cock moving inside my pussy felt incredibly good. It was like I was getting a massage inside my body that excited me in a way I couldn’t explain. I didn’t enjoy everything Cleve did but I liked the fucking part, and never said anything to Mom, or anyone else.

One day in the middle of the week, while Cleve was away at work, I walked by Mom’s room and heard her moaning. I thought she wasn’t feeling well. She often drank a lot and I thought she might have gotten sick from having too much booze. I opened her intending to console her, and I was stunned by what I saw. Mom lay on top of the bed completely naked, masturbating with a wiener. Looking at her with my mouth agape, she looked back and smiled as she continued working the wiener in her cunt. Beckoning me to come close she slowly fucked herself with that cellophane-wrapped wiener and said, “It’s time for you to learn a few sexual things that help us women, Rachel.”

I thought to myself, She has no idea that her boyfriend has been fucking me for months, and that I had been using a lipstick tube to masturbate. She told me how good masturbating feels, and about some of the items she used—no dildos or vibrators back then. I had only used the lid of my lipstick tube, while she told me about the wiener, cucumber, brush handle, and other things. I watched and listened to her moan while she continued fucking herself with the wiener. She must have been convinced that I was ignorant about it. But, for quite a while I had been coming home from school, going to my room, and fantasizing about some of the boys at school as I masturbated with my good ole lipstick tube.

One day while visiting Aunt Martha, my mother’s sister, the topic of Cleve came up. She and others among our family and friends had no regard for him. When she kept quizzing me about what was going on at our house and if Cleve had been spending much time alone with me, I finally confessed that he was fucking me. Shocked, she immediately told Mom and Mom kicked Cleve out.

I was glad that Cleve was gone but I adored his oldest son, Billy. We were pals and got along well together. He had been watching me change and shower whenever he could, which pleased me that my body was attractive to him. One day when we were out in the acreage of the property where we lived, I told him that I knew he was watching me, and that I enjoyed him doing it. Since it felt good when his dad fucked me, I wanted Billy to play with my tits and fuck me too. We had sex that day and a few more times before they were kicked out. Not eager to have Cleve using me the way he did, It was cool to be making out with Billy who was so close to my age. We laughed a lot together, particularly when we had sex. I missed him when they left, but I was glad I didn’t have to put up with his dad anymore.

After Cleve and the boys left two things happened to me that impacted the rest of my life. I was still in my early teens; my boobs were developing a lot faster than most of the other girls my age at school. We were quite poor. Cleve had made enough money to help out with expenses but he wouldn’t buy me a bra. Mom had a magnificent body, a tiny waist with huge boobs, 44D, and she told me how great my figure was developing. I was the only girl in my class who had breasts of a mature woman—36C and didn’t even have a bra. When I went to one of the department stores and found the size, I asked Mom if I could get one. She told me we didn’t have the money to buy it. When I started to cry, she told me that I should steal one. I hadn’t stolen anything at that time, but she said she would come with me and show me how to do it. So, as Mom distracted the store clerks I stole my first bra.

School wasn’t good for me. Both boys and girls made fun of me, calling me names, and making fun of my large boobs that jiggled so much before I got my bras. The most embarrassing moment came when we had gym class and had to change and shower with my classmates. I knew I didn’t want to be in the changing room with any of the other girls, and for the first couple of classes, I found a way not to go. But I couldn’t avoid going to gym class and getting undressed in front of all the girls who giggled, laughed, and made jokes about my tits. The hair on my pussy embarrassed me as well. But as I looked around and saw that almost all the other girls were completely flat, with bare pussies I began feeling special. Some of the girls wore bras, which was a joke since there was nothing for their bras to hold up, which made me snicker. I had great boobs, lots of hair on my pussy, and was the only one being made fun of. Go figure.

After Mom kicked Cleve out, money became so scarce that we were forced to move into town to a place on the wrong side of the tracks, inhabited by people like us—poor. I made friends with a few girls there who, just like me, had been molested by men like Cleve. Still fourteen, I met my first boyfriend who was eighteen. I looked much older than most girls my age so it was easy to convince Steve that I was seventeen. Since he knew nothing of my past and that both Cleve and his son Billy fucked me, I wanted to start with a clean slate. I wanted to be thought of as a “good girl.”

After two dates I thought I was in love with Steve. We had just been kissing and he hadn’t yet touched me. But after a few more dates he unhooked my bra and felt me up. He was quite gentle, which I loved, taking me places in his car where I felt so proud sitting right next to him on one of those old-fashioned bench seats, snuggling up like Siamese twins. I just LOVED being with him.

On our next date, we parked and began kissing. He felt me up and tried to put his hand into my pants. Since I wanted him to respect me and not treat me the way Cleve had, I made him stop, the way a good girl should. It was as if I flipped a switch; he didn’t say a word, just sat up straight, started the car, and took me straight home where he said, “Goodbye Rachel,” and he never asked me out again.

A few days later, Mom asked what happened with Steve. When I told her what he did, she looked at me, shook her head as if I were crazy, and said, “All men are the same, Rachel, all they want is cunt and tits. If you don’t give in, they’ll just get it from another girl.” Most girls would have been shocked hearing their mother talk like that, but I wasn’t, I knew what she meant, and I knew it was true. Starting with Cleve, my body had been used by a guy, and although I wished for better, I figured it would probably never stop.

I was still fourteen when I met Dan who was twenty. Having convinced Steve I was seventeen, I had no trouble doing the same with Dan, a great-looking guy, with a nice car. The first time we dated we had a perfect night together. Dan was satisfied with just kissing me and feeling me up. But the second time we went out we ended up at his house where he still lived with his mother. It was late on a nice summer evening. We were kissing under a big tree in his backyard and he had my blouse open and my bra undone. When he lifted my skirt, I knew he was gonna fuck me and made no effort to stop him. After removing my skirt, he peeled off my panties. Somehow his cock was in my hand and it seemed like magic. But I couldn’t believe how huge his cock was. Cleve’s cock had seemed big to me but Dan’s had to be twice that size. And it was so hard that I could feel it vibrating. I was on my back before I knew it, my legs spread wide open as he tried to fit his massive cock inside my tight pussy. I thought, there’s no fucking way he’ll get that monster inside me. He pushed in and it hurt. It hurt badly. But as pussies are made for cocks no matter how large, he inched it inside. He came inside me, which made his cock slipperier but it still hurt so bad that I got no enjoyment from it.

I liked Dan, who treated me very well. His cock was just TOO big for me though. Being together for about three months, I let him fuck me whenever he wanted, which was only about five or six times a month. Each time we fucked I hoped it wouldn’t hurt as bad as the last time. So, after three months, I broke up with him, which started a pattern. I figured that if I only went with a guy for three months, he would never find out what a loser I was. I always broke up with the guy before he broke up with me. That way I wouldn’t get hurt by being dumped.

Paul was my next guy. I was approaching fifteen and he was twenty. It seemed that I was attractive or intriguing to older guys, most of whom were nice. Like Dan, Paul was good to me. But he wanted to know more about my family and how I was raised, which caused me to lie to him a lot. He used to take me to a friend’s house, where we would spend the night when his friend was away. So, for the first time in my short life, I was having sex with a boyfriend in a REAL bed. We would lounge around that house in our underwear or get naked together. Paul was comfortable and I loved being with him. His cock wasn’t too big like Dan’s and the feeling of it inside me seemed like what it was supposed to be between a man and a woman. He was gentle, so making love with him in that nice bed was heavenly.

I had only two friends in the area where I lived at the time. One was a boy my age named Terry. He was quite poor, always wore old clothes, had few friends, and was ridiculed at school. We had a lot in common so we got along well. One day while walking to school together, I told him about my boyfriend, and how good he made me feel, how he liked fucking me, and how good I felt when he did. Terry said, “I’ve never had sex but would really love to.” He asked me a lot of questions about it and said that none of the girls he knew would get to know him well enough to let him fuck them because he was so much of a loser.

What he said bothered me all day at school and I felt bad for him. So, when we walked home that afternoon, I told Terry that I would show him how to fuck me. And, just like that, on the way home that afternoon we stopped in a field, I showed him what to do and he fucked me. It was his first time, and he was so grateful. He was my friend though and It was like a mercy fuck and It didn’t matter at all to me that I did it even though I had a boyfriend.

Consistent with my pattern Paul and I had been together for about three months when I broke it off. I didn’t want him to find out too much about me and dump me. While Paul and I were going together, Dan kept stopping by our house looking for me and wanting me back. Mom was surprised when I told her why I had broken up with him. I don’t think she believed me when I told her how big Dan’s cock was. But by the expression on her face, I knew she would have liked to have found out for herself.

Paul fucked me more often than Dan had, probably at least twice a week and it was more comfortable than doing it with Dan. I had still never had an orgasm while having sex with a male and during this time, my compulsive masturbation habit grew more intense; I was getting myself off at least once a day. I loved masturbating, it was the only way I could get total release from doing something sexual. I loved being alone in my bed with whatever I was using, fantasizing about boys at school, and how it would be if they fucked me. I often fucked myself with a wiener, like Mom had taught me and usually got myself off by using my trusty lipstick tube. If masturbating were a bad habit, stealing clothes had to be worse. I started with bras and panties and graduated into tops and skirts. There were laws about stealing clothes. Always horny, I could see no reason not to play with myself as often as I wanted to, I never heard that masturbating was illegal ... just immoral, as some people said. Poor, I was poor and didn’t feel guilty about stealing clothes.

By the time I was fifteen, I was plainly promiscuous and would accommodate any boy who wanted to take me for a ride through town. Though I was still naïve about nuanced sex I was quite experienced when it came to being felt up and fucked, anywhere I could find to do it. Mom was still drinking heavily. Night after night she brought home a different man with whom she would have sex. She didn’t seem to care that my brothers and I knew she was fucking different men. And she didn’t seem to care what I was up to either, telling me, “Just don’t get knocked up.”