I was 16 (I might have been early 17, but I think I was 16), and had been seeing him every week or two. We’d been that way for around a year now, sneaking out to him, a couple hours at a time. He would dress me up every time. I was never myself, or who I thought I was. Never. He kept those parts of me separate. He would ask if I’d been with anyone, but I never fucked around. I don’t know why, but I never did. I could have, and I wasn’t innocent. I had a reputation for a slutty mouth, but nothing more. I dated very little and went out rarely. But at parties, I’d let the guys touch, but not expose me. I’d feel their hardness against me, their hands over my tits and cupping my pussy, and I’d often end up in the bathroom on my knees, head bobbing up and down, swallowing their cum.

And he loved listening to it. He would slap me sometimes after I told him, not hard, just playful, and call me Badsammie. He called me trailer trash (I lived in a nicer house than his and his was nice) and a skank. He would use me hard, but left no marks that could elicit questions I didn’t want to answer. He’d fucked my ass many times before and I had even cleaned his cock after a few times. He would help me clean and prep first, lube up, and then use wipes to minimize any mess. With a mouth full of saliva, you really only tasted lube and smelled nothing. If prepped properly.

Then one day, it was a bit different. He told me not to prep. Instead, he stripped me and blindfolded me. Lube was used, but far far less than in the past. Pushing in hurt, but I was just a dumb cunt who didn’t know better. I liked it when it hurt (God, I had no idea how far that would go in the future though lol), and he fucked me on the floor, ass up, just feeling my ass be used by him. I didn’t even think at that moment about what was planned. But I felt much tighter then and while I was no longer illegal, our fun would have been frowned upon. Soon, jets of his heat filled my ass and I moaned, wet, as he pulled out of me.

I was pushed back on my legs and knelt, arms behind my back, as he stood before me. I could smell it. Not heavy, it was still muted, but his cock smelled different. The result of no quick deep clean, no prep, and then he told me to open my mouth. I wanted to gag. I knew it was different this time and I tried to water my mouth, but when I opened it and he pushed in, it wasn’t enough. The texture and the smell made me retch, but I was told to swallow like the trashy slut I was. And I did. I didn’t even throw up, though I came close. I heaved several times, more at the thought than anything. Then the blindfold was removed and he stood me in front of the mirror. It was the first, but not the last time that brown would stain my lips. He gave me a new nickname that could accurately describe me. I wouldn’t do it often, rarely as much as that, but it was a new addition to my depravity. Of how low I could be.

Then, after calling me that new nickname, I cried and he held me, kissing me, telling me how proud he was of me. I felt safe in his arms and eventually found a sort of pride in the act. I didn’t know it then, but I was where I belonged, on my knees, with my mouth wide open.