|Blogs > rm_jennyelectra > Fantasy?|
Well hear goes!
Well hear goes!
Ok, this is MY blog.
As you can probably tell from my profile I’m not exactly looking for a partner at the moment (I seem to have more than I need (or should have)).
I want to use this blog to write about my life.
I am only 36 but have think I’ve had an interesting life. It has been a life full of sex, not always good, hardly ever appropriate, but usually very satisfying.
I am 36 years old, I am happily married: except that I can’t stop fucking around. I have never been faithful. Not to any boyfriend I have ever had.
I kind of know where it comes from, or at least where the root of my problem lies but have never really faced it.
At the moment I have a wonderful husband. My problem is that I am also fucking my father in law. Well, I am not exactly fucking him (unless he tells me to), but he pushes me around, slaps me, and generally fucks me whenever he wants. And I let him. He saw through me from day one.
I started life in a fairly lowly place but have had the gumption to push myself and progress. I now earn both respect and money. When everyone else sees me as successful why then do I feel such a fuck up?
I am an only child. I am now also an orphan. Both my parents died by the time I was 25. It leaves me feeling rather alone in the world. I know that this is also part of my problem: but my problems started earlier.
After the death of my father I lost it for a little while. I enrolled in grief counceling. It helped a lot. I talked a lot about my upbringing, my family life, my strife (my supposed strife). But there was always something that I could not talk about. As much as I knew I needed to, I just couldn’t vocalize my past: my feelings.
This is the main reason I have started this blog. I need to talk about things. I need to talk about me. I need to tell someone about my past and maybe someone will talk back to me. I am not embarrassed about my history but recognize that it is a bit unusual, that it has shaped who I am today. Some people might freak out about things but they probably just don’t understand.
I come from a poor family. Dad was a labourer/musician but rarely had work due to his fondness for drink. Not an unusual affliction for men from this area. As a family we were no different than anyone else. It was always hard. Mum was a saint and made ends meet by working in a service station.
Dad was often drunk. He was a disciplinarian, and as long as I can remember, I was always being chastised for something. His punishment took the form of me being laid across his knee and my bare bottom slapped until I had admitted my transgressions (not that I had a clue what a transgression was at the time).
This was my life until I was fourteen years old. I loved my mum, I was scared of my dad. I was never sure of what I had done wrong. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a red head, I am very feisty, I was probably a complete brat when I was a child, But I just didn’t realize it at the time.
There came a point during my fourteenth year, when I was again being chastised for something. I was across my fathers knee and my bottom was being spanked. I don’t know what was different about it. I still had tears in my eyes but the sense of injustice wasn’t there. I became aware of a different feeling: the slaps still stung but they didn’t feel as bad as they usually did. In fact they didn’t feel bad at all. My bottom was almost numb with the spanking but there was another feeling there too. I remember wanting his hand to hit me harder. I remember something happening to me that made me cry out, but it didn’t feel bad.
I know now that I had an orgasm, but at 14 I had no idea what had happened. Thinking about it now daddy must have realized that things had changed too. I hit puberty at 12, after that the bottom he spanked would have filled out, he would have noticed the ginger tufts of my pubic hair. He might have noticed that after each spanking my pussy was wet!
I would always be sent to my room after a spanking. That night I couldn’t wait to get to my room. When there, I stripped myself and donned my nightie. As soon as I laid on my bed I was touching myself (it wasn’t exactly the first time I’d masterbated but it was the first time that I NEEDED to masterbate). I didn’t realise it then but the shuddering climax I had that night would shape the rest of my life.
My mum worked on Friday nights, she wouldn’t get back from the garage until 10. More often than not she’d have a few drinks with her pals and wouldn’t get back until midnight. Funnily enough Dad always seemed to have a drink on Friday nights also. Friday nights became ‘spank’ night. They always seemed to end up with me annoying my dad and my bare bottom getting a thrashing. My lasting memories are of giving myself crushing orgasms as I wallowed on my bed with a sore bottom, fingers on my pussy, almost passing out with the pleasure I could give myself.
It seemed like a long time afterward but was probably only a few months. It was a Friday and I had just had my regular spanking. I was in my room, nightie up at my neck. One hand on my pussy, my other hand playing with my nipples. I was nearing orgasm when something made me open my eyes.
The room was dark but unmistakenly I had seen the image of my father standing in my room. Don’t ask me why, maybe I just needed to cum, but I just screwed my eyes shut and carried on touching myself.
I remember his hand grasping me by the wrist and pulling my arm away from my pussy. I can remember every sensation of the moment his fingers touched the inside of my thigh.
I know lots of people will think bad of me, of us, but at the time it was the most erotic thing I could ever have imagined. Even today, 22 years later, I can still remember that touch. It was the first time I had ever been touched so intimately by another human being. His hands very gently worked up my thighs until they were caressing my pussy. Beautifully soft, his fingers worked around my clitoris. I wasn’t in heaven: I was beyond heaven. I remember my orgasm, it was blinding in it’s intensity, I remember my back arching off the bed trying to thrust my pussy harder into his fingers, I remember two fingers splitting me open, causing new and fantastic sensations to surge through me. My orgasm went on and on, and he milked me, drew every drop of my orgasm out of me. When I was finally spent I saw him looking down at me. Not drunk, not resentful, not angry, but smiling. He felt good: I felt beautiful.
This became our routine. During the week at school I could not wait to get to the weekend and have my bottom spanked and my pussy played with. I became more adept at having orgasms. I couldn’t believe that so much pleasure could be available to me. Dad had stopped hitting mum, it seemed like as long as he could take it out on my bottom and pussy on a Friday then the rest of the week would be calm.
As things do, they always progress. It seemed like a long time to me but was probably only a few months more. It was a Friday, I had had a particularly hard and satisfying spanking from my dad. I was lying on my bed, my legs open, his fingers working me to a beautiful orgasm. When I noticed for the first time the bulge in his trousers. Now, I was fourteen, not stupid. I knew exactly what it was. I felt selfish, for months I had been been incredibly aroused and having the most amazing orgasms. Of course he would be aroused too. I felt bad, I wanted to comfort him the way he comforted me. I ignored my building orgasm and reached out and touched him through his trousers. I unfastened his belt and pulled down his zip. I reached inside and pulled his hardness out. As his fingers worked on me, I tried to work on him. I was still holding him as my orgasm overtook me.
Another mind blowing, body shaking orgasm. I loved my daddy.
As I came down I realized that I still had his hard cock in my hand. I wanted to please him as he pleased me. I had heard at school of girls that gave blow jobs, I so much wanted to please. I opened my mouth and just before I took him in I asked him to show me what to do. And he told me what to do. It is probably the single most important thing I have ever been taught in my life. How to suck cock.
To digress: From that early lesson in cock sucking I have carved my way through life. Men have fallen in love with me based on my blow jobs. I have got jobs because of my blow jobs. And girls, the absolute basic rule to giving a blow job is….. to swallow. Not just swallow but lick that cock clean afterward, and even if you don’t like it, pretend that you do. Believe me, you can have anyone licking out of your hand if you are prepared to swallow his cum.
I swallowed daddies cum. It was years before I found out that most girls do not swallow. I didn’t mind the taste, I felt clever. I looked up at my Daddy and he was crying. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared but he held me, weeping and said those words that I’d been waiting all my life to hear.
That he loved me.
After that night the spanking stopped. My dad stopped drinking. He tried so hard to be good. My mum was delighted. I was devastated. I missed my sore bottom, I missed my orgasms, I missed my daddy telling me he loved me.
Friday night, 3 weeks later, my mum had just gone to work. I asked daddy if he wanted anything. A cup of coffee! I stood in the kitchen for a long time, thinking. Eventually I took a can of beer from the fridge and walked through to give it to him. He looked up at me as he took it. To this day I am not sure what his expression meant, but I felt bad. He had tried so hard to be a proper dad and now I was dragging him down.
He soon finished the can of beer. “Did he want another”, I asked.
“No, bring me the whisky”.
I remember feeling a little bit bad but excited at the same time. He drank maybe a quart of the whisky bottle and I could see him start to look at me. I stood to go to the toilet.
”Where do you think you are going” he said.
I was genuinely only going to the toilet but I told him I was going out to see my friends.
“Your not going out at this time of night” he told me.
I found myself arguing with him, I didn’t want to argue, I didn’t need to argue but I knew where it would lead.
“You’re not too old to go over my knee” he said. That was it: it was settled, I was going to get my spanking. For years this was to be our signal.
“You’re not too old to go over my knee”.
That night I found myself spread across daddies knee my skirt pulled up and my panties around my feet. He spanked me hard, harder than ever, his fingers must have been covered in my wetness by the time he stopped. By the time I was sent to my room my buttocks were glistening with my own juices.
He came to my room and gave me the best orgasm yet, the last of my orgasm enticed out of me by his finger in my anus. I swallowed so much cum that night.
He cried: he held me: he told me that he loved me.
We both knew it was wrong but it was so deliciously wrong. I was a bad girl. I knew I was a bad girl. We continued to have our Friday night arguments, our Friday spanking, my fantastic orgasms and I continued to swallow his cum.
I guess I was 15 by now. I haven’t exactly kept an eye on the dates. I was at a local grammar school. Despite the poor background I was determined to better myself. This was actually one of the sore points between my dad and me. I had won a scholarship to the grammar school. He thought I was getting above myself. “Why not work in a shop, be a housewife?”. I was determined to do something more with my life. The school was great. I seemed to be the only person there from the wrong side of the tracks and that caused some tension, but I was learning, really learning and I loved it.
Life at that point seemed good. I was doing well at school. Home life was good (interesting certainly) , I had a boyfriend, a big, fat, friendly guy and he seemed to be completely in love with me. Probably due to my new found expertise in sucking his cock.
Although, like most guys, he couldn’t help boasting about it. Because of that I soon came to the attention of one of the football team. He was gorgeous, all the girls fancied him but he’d taken a shine to me. I realise now that it was because he thought he could come down my throat: and he could. Any time he wanted. My boyfriend knew about it but didn’t want to lose me. I mean how could a fat 15 year old 4th year compete with the head boy?
So the head boy was regularly fingering my pussy and I was regularly swallowing his cum, as well as my boyfriends, as well as my dads. Is it any wonder that I got so good at sucking cocks?
I guess this is all leading to another big point in my life. Losing my virginity.
I was at school and head boy was feeling frisky. He’d already cornered me and rather obviously pushed me into a corner of the corridor. He forced his fingers up my skirt, inside my panties and into my pussy. Like any 15 year old I was wet within seconds. He wanted me to bunk off Geography class and go suck his cock somewhere. I wanted to, but I liked my geography class, it was my favourite subject. He was annoyed but told me to go and remove my panties and give them to him, that would keep him going for a few hours. It excited me, I liked being told what to do. I liked the idea of him having my wet panties in his pocket.
I went to the toilets and masterbated furiously through my panties making sure the material was very wet. Then I removed them. The bell had already rung so I hurried to my geography class. Head boy was waiting there grinning. I pulled my wet panties from my pocket and was handing them to him when Mr Bowman, the geography teacher, came around the corner. I tried to stuff them back into my pocket but he demanded to know what I had. Head boy had run off by now laughing. Mr Bowman had that authorative kind of voice, he asked me what was in my hand and I gave it to him, my wet panties. He looked shocked and quickly thrust them into his pocket.
Mr Bowman was an excellent teacher, quite strict, but very dedicated. He was about 45 and I knew he had two kids in another school. A son of 17 and a daughter about my age 15. During the class I was in a panic but I was also aware that Mr Bowman kept looking at me. I was panicking about what he would tell my dad. I did notice though that his hand kept going to his suit pocket. Was that the pocket that had my panties in it? He would rest his chin on the same hand and brush his nose with his fingers ‒ was I imagining it? At the end of class I thought I was going to get away with it, but no:
“Ms ******* can you stay behind?”
I was panicked: the class was empty: I stood next to his desk. He brought my panties out of THAT pocket, holding them up he asked me if they were mine.
“Yes” I replied.
“Are you wearing any panties now?”
“Yes” I lied.
“Are you sure? Lift up your skirt”
I couldn’t help myself, I lifted my skirt and obviously I wasn’t wearing any panties. I saw him staring at my exposed pussy.
“These panties are wet, are you aroused?”
I didn’t know what to do.
“No” I said.
His fingers reached out and slipped between my lips, my wetness gushed from me coating his fingers.
“I would say that you are aroused. Do you know what it means when your vagina lubricates itself?”
“No”, I replied.
“It is preparing itself for intercourse….. Go to the cupboard”.
The cupboard was mainly for books but occasionally it was used to punish pupils. They would have to stand in there for the lesson if they’d misbehaved.
“Is this my punishment?” I thought.
Mr Bowman followed me into the cupboard.
“ Put your hands flat on that desk and bend over” he commanded.
As soon as I had done so he lifted my skirt. I heard his belt getting undone, his zip coming down. I felt his hands spreading my cheeks and then I felt……………………. His Cock push into me.
It wasn’t fantastic, as far as sex goes, but I felt good. I felt like a woman. He had the strength of mind to pull out of me and he came over my buttocks and back. If he’d have wanted me to, I would have taken him in my mouth and swallowed him. As it was I put my panties back on and walked home, cum dripping down my ass and thighs. I enjoyed the experience. I started to get an idea of how easy men were to control. Show them a bit of pussy and they would do practically anything to get in it!
I was 15 years old. I had lost my virginity to my school teacher. I was also sucking 3 cocks, one of which was my fathers. I may have been a little confused but I didn’t feel bad about things.
Things at home continued as they were but Mr Bowman didn’t try anything on. I almost felt rejected. He’d been happy enough to fuck me over a desk just because I’d given him a hard on! I had lost my virginity, once was not going to be enough. I didn’t exactly fancy Mr Bowman but I definitely wanted to go into the cupboard again. I resorted to making my panties wet by masterbating in the toilets . I took them off and put them in the drawer of Mr Bowmans desk. The class went slowly but eventually he opened the drawer. I almost laughed as his eyes widened in shock. He looked straight at me and he knew they were mine.
At the end of class.
“Ms ********, can you stay behind”.
It would be the same routine every time. All I had to do, if I wanted him to fuck me, was drop my wet panties in his drawer. This continued right up until I left school.
I started to realise that I quite liked routine. I liked knowing when I was going to get spanked, I liked knowing when I would come, I liked knowing when I would get fucked. This would change as I got older. Spontaneity would become more exciting.
I was maturing, both physically and mentally. My relationship with my father was obviously rather taboo, but for me, it was exquisite. My relationship with my teacher didn’t mean anything, but I liked the feeling of his cock in me. (Secretly, I just know he was thinking of his own daughter as he was fucking me: don’t ask me why, I just know. I think this is what excited me most).
The school year was nearing an end. I was nearing my 16 birthday. My school work had not suffered at all, in fact I had already secured a place at University for the next year (which is quite early, but very possible for those smart enough). I felt clever, I felt mature, I felt sexy. I still had conflicted feelings about my relationship with my dad but I remember being quite happy at the time.
I guess I should tell you about the next big thing to happen to me.
I can’t quite remember what age I was, but it happened on a Friday night. Obviously I had just had a resounding spanking from my father (we continued to make up arguments but we both knew what it was all about). He had excelled himself in giving me a shuddering orgasm in my bedroom. The next step in the routine was for me to suck his cock and swallow his cum.
I did suck his cock but for some reason, which I still can’t work out, I stopped. Instead I turned over on the bed and got on all fours. I presented myself to him.
He would probably never have done it if I hadn’t presented myself to him. We could have maintained some semblance of father/daughter relationship. I remember being on the bed with my ass in the air for quite some time. I was starting to think, “ Had I crossed some sort of boundary”. Was I such a slut that I had pushed my own father too much? But no…..
His cock slid into me. I know people will judge me, I know people will condemn me. Every day I condemn myself, but I loved the feeling of his cock sliding into me. He fucked me long and hard, possibly harder than I have ever been fucked in my life, but I loved it. When he reached orgasm he didn’t pull out. I felt his cum spurting deep inside me: I loved it. I was only 15 or 16, I wasn’t yet on the pill, Mr Bowman always came over me. Fortunately I didn’t get pregnant but the next day I did go on the pill.
We must have been approaching the end of the school year by now. My wantonness had me now fucking two guys, 3 times my age. One of them my own father, the other my teacher. I still sucked my boyfriends cock and occasionally the head boys too, but to be honest, they didn’t really interest me. They were for show only. I liked older cocks.
12/26/2005 5:36 pm
Wow. That story was mindboggling, disgusting, and erotic all at the same time. Are you sure you didn't make this up? Because I would definitely watch the movie.|
If you were my wife, I would want to know everything you just wrote. I would be angry and upset but also understanding. Probably beat the daylights out of my father and keep a close eye on you. This is beyond my expertise.
12/27/2005 4:02 am
Where to begin? Your story is not unique, sadly, as I have got to know a couple of women on AdultFriendFinder who have very similar backgrounds to you, and have the same current issue - that their partner/husband is unable to satisfy them as they crave variety. |
I have no reason to doubt the content of your blog at all, but depending on what sort of guy your husband is - should you not share this with him? If you genuinely cannot, then I would be happy to try to help and exchange emails to this end, even meet up and discuss.
You should have my details on AdultFriendFinder, so send me a message soon. All members can contact me and see my profile as I pay extra for that service.
All my best wishes Jon xx
12/27/2005 5:35 am
An interesting story! I feel for you! your emotions & feelings have been played with and left distorted! I just wish you happiness!|
12/27/2005 7:44 am
For someone who professes to have such a high academic standing I pity any poor soul you happen to guide. GCSE English would be more appropriate I think.|
12/27/2005 11:13 am
Subconsciously, your self-esteem was damaged by your father and what followed floews from that, even the parts tha you enjoyed. You would do well to see a therapist and have him include you in a group of woman with similar problems. You have to break through this, before you go off the edge.|
12/27/2005 11:14 am
Well what can I say. That is an amazing upbringing and I can understand your frustrations and your current circumstances. |
However you were taught an important lesson about making love and your power over men, your body. No doubt you have made full use of that fact over the previous years of your adult life and why shouldn't you...
As for your father, I undertand the relationship you had with him, I think. In some ways it was a way of you expressing yourself in others it allowed the beatings that your mother took to stop but he was wrong to do this. Its not something that he should of got involved in with you.
He was weak and only did these things when he was drunk etc so he was aware of what he did and tried to stop things but again due to your power as a woman you managed to entice him back into the role again. This was wrong of you, yes I understand your enjoyment but now it had become that and not a case of helping your mother from receiving her beatings.
Since then as you have mentioned you have gone through life being unfaithfull to all comers.Again is this due to the value you put on yourself or on your body as a woman, interesting.
I would love to have more coversations with you regarding this as I almost went down the same route with a family member but stopped myself. Contact me and lets see if we can chat about it and your issus too. Bye gor now.
12/27/2005 12:01 pm
Hi Jenny, I read your story with a mix of feelings - I think your probably reaching out to find someone who can help or at least listen to what you've gotta say without necessarily wanting to take advantage of you. Cos thats whats happened all your life, so far life seems to have treated you pretty bad and then (mainly cos of your dad) you got to enjoybeing treated badly. I'm touched by your blog and if chatting to me can be a help then I'm your man. The last thing you need is someone who pretends to care but just wants to shag you and use you.|
12/28/2005 4:20 pm
My earlier post did not go through for some reason. What I said was that you appear to have lost self esteem, much as you enjoyed the experience sometimes. Most women have the occasional desire to be used, and that also appears to be part of you. You may want to see a therapist about that and have her put you in a group of women with the same problems.|
12/31/2005 1:03 am
If all of this or even some of this is true the i agree that a therapist is required. I have read this several times and i find it impossible to decipher were fantasy starts and reality ends. These experiences are probably not best aired in public like this as some people will take them and try to use them against yuo in some way, but if you feel that this is something yuo have got to do then i take my hat off to you for showing a huge amount of courage.|
As to remaining faithful you are normal there are many people out there who unfaithful both mentally and physically. Some will admit it others wont. It is in our make up to mate/screw around with as many partners as neccesarry so to improve the chances of the line succeding. Alot are successful in supressing it as it is not readily accepted with modern society others are not so that is why sites like this are so successful.
Well i hope you find what you are looking for emotionally or physicaly i look forward to reading the rest of the blogs.
1/6/2006 9:59 am
I just think it is a beautiful story by a girl/woman who has nothing|
to be ashamed about.
There are really women who just love sex, love giving, love fucking and Jenny is one of those women.
You are a beautiful person Jenny and thank you for sharing your story.
1/7/2006 9:41 am
Why does everyone thing someone would need a therapist after an experiance like that? My wife was molested by her grandfather for years when she was 11 to 14 and when she finally went to a therapist it made her life much worse. She enjoyed sex before and now she hates it. At the mere mention of her father, mother or grandfather she is depressed for days. Therapy is not always the best answer. Get on with life and live for the future, don't wallow in the past.|