Written in the Stars
Copyright© 2026 by Roxy_Raven
Chapter 3
True Story Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Its sad that this is part of the Gil saga but it is. This is the story of the time Jenna came to visit me from Seattle while I still lived with Gil. Thankfully it went very well still but not without Gil putting his vile stains all over it!
Caution: This True Story Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Consensual Lesbian TransGender True Story Sharing Rough Polygamy/Polyamory Anal Sex Oral Sex Size
This one touches on childhood trauma. You have been warned.
Thankfully, Gil and his nonsense didn’t really put all that much of a damper on Jenna’s visit, even when we were in his house. Like when she convinced me to ride her! Normally I don’t much care for that position because I’m bad at it. I don’t have the leg stamina to do much bouncing so I typically decline to even try it but when she told me that was her favorite position I couldn’t say no. Worth a shot right? 🤷♀️ I’m glad I did because after that experience I was no longer so reluctant to do it. I sat on those beautiful sexy hips of hers, grinding her massive cock against my prostate while she demonstrated her incredible leg strength. Jenna is a jogger. She goes for runs in sexy skimpy outfits pretty much every day so her stamina for that motion is pretty much bottomless. She bounced me up and down on her cock so well for so long that she shot me straight into subspace. I’ve never enjoyed that position nearly as much as I enjoyed it with her. 🥵❤️
The last few days of her visit were interesting. Her parents were out of town so we spent those few days in her room in her childhood home. Being back there as an adult, and as a woman, was surreal. I remembered being there many times as a kid in high school and it was honestly jarring. My childhood was pretty awful. My mother was a drug addict and a drug dealer and we lived in poverty. I think we got evicted more times then I got a professional hair cut and often lived in motels or in a van on the streets for long periods of time. My mother wasn’t physically abusive but she was neglectful, absent, and narcissistic and we had constant issues with CPS and law enforcement.
Being in Jenna’s childhood home did two things to me. First, it came with a sense of dysphoria because the last time I was there, I was living the wrong childhood, being forced to play the role of “teenage boy” against my will. Second, it brought back unpleasant memories of my childhood, memories of going home with Jenna and Eric after school so I didn’t have to go back to my own home and feel the crushing weight of poverty and neglect. Memories of video games in Jenna’s room, conversations with Jenna’s parents on their couch, and that sense of dread that would always wash over me when it was finally time to go home swirled around in my mind mingling with all the fake expressions of pretend masculinity and the constant hyper vigilance I put on myself to make sure I avoided acting too girly in front of my friends. Walking into her parents kitchen brought back a particularly bitter-sweet memory connected to what might be the most harrowing experience in my childhood, one that I buried so deep I forgot it completely until a conversation about a month prior with my sister, who remembered everything vividly. Starvation.
I still don’t fully remember this. Even after talking to my sister about it only the most vague tatters of it get to see the light of day, but there were times during my childhood where we had very little food and our mom would disappear for days at a time. I remember the pain in my stomach and rationing the last remaining bits of whatever we had left. On top of that, I was so reluctant to go home that I would often choose to stay with my friends and be hungry rather then go home to eat. Whatever food they gave me was sometimes the only food I would get all day aside from the decidedly dinky lunches the school provided. There was one memory in particular that jumped to the front of my mind in that kitchen. I remember being at Jenna’s house, being hungry but not wanting to burden her with requests for food and not wanting to go home either. Eric was there also and eventually Jenna decided she wanted to eat. She was always very kind and didn’t want to eat in front of her friends so she grabbed a plate of leftovers from her fridge and split it between the three of us. It was just a small piece of pork chop with a few pieces of asparagus but it was all I had to eat all day so far so I was immensely grateful, though I didn’t express it at the time because I didn’t want my friends to know just how much I was suffering at home. She handed me that plate and said the phrase “meager sustenance” in a silly voice and I thanked her and ate it. She always loved doing silly voices and she still does to this day.