A Letter to Jo Anne Wiley - Cover

A Letter to Jo Anne Wiley

by Jo-Anne Wiley

Copyright© 2024 by Jo-Anne Wiley

True Story Sex Story: Copy this letter and leave it where a young girl can find it.

Caution: This True Story Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Coercion   Heterosexual   True Story   .

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Author’s Note: As someone who has suffered the humiliation of sexual aggression under the hands of conniving men, this letter, sent to me by a reader, holds special meaning. I know most of my readers are men but if you know a teenage girl ... a daughter, niece, or even a young friend ... you may want to copy this letter and leave it where she can find it. The world is full of pitfalls, some much deeper and darker than others ... Jo-Anne


Dear Ms Wiley...

Shutter-Buggered really hit home; thank you for the story.

I come from a small rural town and was in grade ten when I met Len at a party. I was completely blown away. He was older, had dropped out of school, was making good money as a mechanic, he had his own place, wore leather and chains and drove a motorcycle. I remember thinking how cool I’d look to my friends, riding on the back of his bike.

And Len liked sex, with me especially, though I’m sure there were others. I lost my virginity a week after meeting him and we ended up doing it practically every time we were together. And we did it in all sorts of places: on his bike, in the back of a pick-up speeding down the highway, in a cubical in the girls at school, outside, inside, even at a party with his friends watching me humping in his lap with a blanket around my hips. The more bazaar the situation, the more he liked it.

But I soon found you can’t build a relationship on sex and we burned out six months later. The breakup was amicable and I met Kieth a short time later. Kieth was everything Len wasn’t. Kieth was smart, studying to become an ophthalmologist, was a gentle and thoughtful lover, and my parents were thrilled when he gave me a diamond. We planned to wait until I was out of high-school, move to a small apartment near the University and start planning a life together. Our friends thought we were the couple most likely to succeed.

Then Len called.

Len told me that he was cleaning his apartment and there was a box of my stuff if I wanted it. There were things I had borrowed from my mother and some jewelry so I agreed to drop by his place the next day. He met me at the door and invited me in. I almost passed out.

I knew Len had taken photographs of me. But until then, I hadn’t realized how many. The whole wall of his apartment was plastered with images of me. There was me posing naked on his bike, a shot of me holding my skirt up. In another, I held him in my mouth and he had placed the camera between my legs one time, as he was doing me. There were photos of me holding my boobs up to the lens and bent over with my buttocks pried apart. In one shot, I smiled broadly with semen on my lips and chin.

I stood wide-eyed with my heart pounding as he wondered out loud about what my Dad would say. He talked about the pastor at my family church, my boss at the library where I worked part time, my teachers at school, and of course, Keith.

I offered Len all the money I had, but he just laughed. I offered to go to bed with him one last time if he would only give me the photographs. He laughed even harder. I finally asked him what I had to do.

It was well known that Len held a poker party on the last Friday of every month. It was a guys-only deal and I had never attended. But he wanted me there now, this coming Friday. I was to serve sandwiches, keep the beer flowing and offer shots of Jack Daniels to the unlucky losers. I asked him what the catch was and he held up an apron. It was one of those narrow arrowhead-aprons that waitresses wear and it took me a moment to realize that the apron was all he expected me to wear. Except for the apron, which would barely cover my crotch, I would be serving the boys beer in the nude.

 
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