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Alyssa's First Time - 3
by Alyssa B. (no address provided)

***

The continuation of a 13-year old girl's sexual journey 
with her mother's boyfriend. Finally she gets her desire 
satisfied by the man who has already had her in so many 
ways. (M/f-teen, ped, 1st)

***

PART III

My mom and her fiancé broke up because my mother is what 
I now know to be trailer trash and she was engaged to a 
man who had worked his way up from nothing to be a 
respected professional. 

The break up was not pretty, and at one point he had 
held her by her throat against a wall quietly suggesting 
that she "leave the premises quickly and without saying 
another fucking world." We went back to my grandmother's 
in a neighboring town and stayed there until we could 
find an apartment close to my mom's work.

I was said when my mom and her fiancé had broken up 
because it meant I could no longer live with the man who 
had become my lover. I was 13 at the time and this man 
had gone from being a schoolgirl crush to being my first 
sexual experience. At the same time he was now free to 
be my boyfriend, or so I had hoped.

To say that this man was a set of complexities is an 
understatement. He's demanding, controlling and yet 
sweet and understanding. He violated me anally, knowing 
I was 13, but did so in a way that I wish I could do 
again as I write this story. The contradictions and 
complexities were illustrated when he threw us out of 
his house but did not cut our cell phone service. 
Instead he charged my mother $50 per phone per month for 
the next two months after the break up before deciding 
that he didn't want to see her and that it would be 
easier to just pay the bill himself. 

How do I know this was what happened? Well, my mom told 
me for starters. But he and I started talking over 
instant message from time to time as he checked to make 
sure I was still getting good grades and that I was 
happy. We didn't discuss sex. We didn't discuss how our 
last sexual experience together had ended in our mutual 
agreement that blow jobs were not something I wanted to 
do anymore and he wasn't really interested in to begin 
with. We discussed school and my future plans. 

The only exception was the night he asked if I had a 
boyfriend yet, now that I had moved to a different 
school and all. When I replied that I had not (angry 
because I considered him to be my boyfriend), he became 
quiet. I really didn't know where things were between 
us. I wanted to say I loved this man. I wanted to be 
with him. I was angry that my mother had finally pushed 
him to the point where he couldn't deal with her 
drinking anymore.

Then Jose came along. Jose was my mother's new boyfriend 
and he just gave me the creeps. One night, Jose 
whispered in my ear, "Chica, I'm gonna come see you 
tonight. See if you're as tight as your momma." It made 
me want to vomit. I ran away that night. My mom was 
drunk and Jose was in the bathroom when I left. I walked 
down to the nearby mall and stayed there until closing 
time, unsure what to do next. 

Technically I was still a virgin. I hadn't let the man 
my mom had once considered her fiancé and that I 
considered my boyfriend have me vaginally. Sure, we had 
done other things. But does that really count? All I 
knew was that Jose wasn't going to be the first to have 
me in that way.

I was sitting in the mall bathroom crying in a stall 
when I decided to call him. He was my boyfriend after 
all, right? He would help me, right?

"Can you come pick me up?" I asked when he answered the 
phone.

"You're crying. Are you okay? Where are you?" he asked, 
clearly concerned.

I told him where I was, and I told him about Jose and 
his promise to rape me that night if I returned home. He 
told me he was on his way and hung up. Within moments my 
phone rang again and he asked me to meet him outside the 
Dillard's department store entrance. 

I climbed into his Mercedes and we drove to the edge of 
the parking lot, where we stopped. He turned to me, 
stone like and waited in silence before speaking.

"Your mom is drunk?" he asked.

I nodded.

"You know I can't take you home with me without getting 
permission. It would be kidnapping."

I nodded. I was afraid he would say that.

"Have you called your grandmother?"

"No," I replied. 

"Call her and let her know where you are but don't tell 
her you are with me. Don't mention Jose. Just tell her 
your mom is drunk and that you are safe with me right 
now. Then let me talk to her."

I did what he said. I guess, looking back, he knew that 
my grandmother liked him. He was good for me and better 
off than my mother. The two of them talked for a moment 
and I could hear her agree that I should stay with him 
until my mother sobered up since my grandmother was too 
far away and he could get me to school the next morning. 
My grandmother didn't know that she was doing exactly 
what I wanted. She was letting me stay with my 
boyfriend.

At this point I should tell you a little more about my 
mother and my grandmother and why all this was "legally 
illegal" as I describe it in my head. When I was a lot 
younger, too young to know what was happening, back 
before my daddy died, my mother was a meth addict. It 
was bad. Between the cocaine addiction that killed my 
daddy and the meth addiction that was ruining my mother, 
I was not in a good place as a child. 

My grandmother had intervened and sued for custody of me 
from my parents. Once my mother had cleaned up her act 
(relatively speaking, of course), my grandmother had 
allowed her to take care of me again. But the court 
order was still in place and my boyfriend (I had waited 
to be able to call him that) knew about all of this. 
This meant that legally my grandmother could give him 
permission to take me to his home until my mother 
sobered up, and there wasn't anything my momma or Jose-
the-perv could do to stop it.

We went to his house and I immediately felt like I was 
at home. He had converted my bedroom into a guestroom, 
but I remembered it as the place where he had taken me 
anally and orally for the first time. Privately I was 
hoping he would take me vaginally soon. 

"Thanks for coming to get me," I said as I walked into 
the living room.

"Sure, Alyssa," he answered from the door. "You know I 
love you. Always have, always will."

He had said that before (even in front of people). They 
probably thought he meant he loved me as a future 
stepdaughter back then. Only I hoped he loved me as a 
woman with whom he had been intimate.

"Do you love me?" I asked.

"Enough to risk a drunk phone call from your mom when 
she wakes up," he joked.

"Can I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Do you still want to be my first?"

He paused, awkwardly, then approached me. Standing over 
me by at least six or eight inches, he looked down and 
kissed my forehead. "Is this what this is all about?" he 
asked.

"What?" I asked, confused. "Oh. No. Jose really does 
creep me out and my mom is really drunk. I just wanted 
to know." 

I felt foolish and started to question if he was really 
my boyfriend or if I was just an idiot. I felt my cheeks 
flush with shame, anger and fear of rejection. I wanted 
to cry.

"I want to be your first when you are ready. No sooner 
and definitely no later. I loved you as a girl I thought 
would be my step daughter. Then shit got weird and I 
found I loved you as a woman more than your mom. Now I 
love you with no confusion. Do you understand?"

His words restored my sense of dignity and I smiled.

We had dinner in his kitchen, eating spaghetti that he 
cooked while I told him about school and other things 
that had been happening in my life. After dinner we sat 
and talked about his relationship with my mother and 
their problems together. I guess it should seems strange 
to have had that conversation, but then again, I was 
lusting over my mother's fiancé long before they broke 
up. It was a good conversation and I understood more 
about why they had not stayed together.

Every kid sees a break up and says, "It's my fault." In 
my case it was. The man my mother was using for 
financial security loved me. It was a conflict that 
wouldn't just go away. Added to that, my mother was 
doing things that no sane man would tolerate. Much of it 
(like the drinking) I knew was a problem. But I didn't 
know that my mother had cheated on him with one of her 
old boyfriends (and drug dealer) from her meth days.

"My parents were fucked up," he explained. "I see how 
your mom is and I'm amazed at how you're turning out. 
Then I see what I'm doing with you, and I know it's 
wrong. I want something better for you than your mom and 
I have done with our lives."

"So, you don't want me?" I asked, almost hurt.

"No," he said quickly. "I do want you. But I want you in 
a way that leaves you feeling respected."

I didn't know how to respond. 

We talked for a long time, when he finally rose and said 
"I'm going to bed. Your old room is made up, just a 
little different."

Without saying more he went into the master bedroom and 
closed the door. 

I sat for a minute or two, uncertain what to do. I had 
expected him to take me long before this point. This 
evening was not operating according to plan. 
Surrendering I went to the guest room that had once been 
my bedroom and began to undress for the night. I had no 
other clothes with me. No pajamas and no plan. Clearly, 
I realized, I had no skills for being a runaway.

Standing in the dark, wearing only bra and panties, I 
looked at myself in the mirror and remembered the first 
time he had commanded me to undress. How liberated I had 
felt and how nervous and scared at the same time. I 
removed the bra. Then I removed the panties. I looked 
down to see my socks and remembered the scolding I had 
received for not coming to him completely naked. I 
removed them as well.

I stood in the cool temperatures of a fall night, 
looking at myself in the mirrored darkness with only the 
street lighting to illuminate my body. Then I turned and 
walked, naked, out of the room to the place where my 
mother used to sleep, where he had her.

In five steps I remembered all the nights I listened to 
him have sex with her, the nights when I would lay in 
bed masturbating and imagining me in her place. I 
remembered the night I had said I wasn't ready to be 
with him, after which he had gone back into his room and 
raped my drunk mother before going to bed. I remembered 
all of this and realized that it excited me more.

When I opened the door, he was laying in bed, reading a 
book on his Amazon Kindle. He looked at my nakedness and 
flipped back the covers of the bed to reveal his own 
naked body, inviting me in.

"You knew I would come in here?" I asked.

"I always sleep naked," he replied. "But I had hoped you 
were ready."

We didn't have sex that night. We cuddled. We kissed. He 
performed oral sex on me once again and made me feel 
like a bowl of jello sitting on top of a washing 
machine. When I awoke the next morning, he was gone. I 
slid out of bed and into his shower in his master 
bathroom and took a long hot shower under his shower 
head as if this was claiming my right to him as well, 
establishing my place as his woman--13 or not.

I was drying off when he entered the bathroom, carrying 
a bag.

"Wal-Mart is the only place open this early, but I got 
you some clothes for today," he said, offering the bag.

The sizes were about right. Jeans and a t-shirt. Simple 
and capable of getting the job done.

"Your mom also called, and she was pissed. Apparently 
your grandmother is over there picking up your stuff to 
bring it over here this afternoon."

I smiled. "So I get to stay here?"

"Guess so." He clearly was concerned. After all a man in 
his mid thirties who has done the things he had up to 
now done with me had sufficient reason to be concerned.

I finished getting ready and he dropped me off at my 
school. My mother was waiting for us in the parking lot 
but was unable to do anything given the traffic 
situation. When she couldn't get to her ex-fiancé, my 
boyfriend, she went into the school only to be told that 
my grandmother had already called and that she needed to 
leave the property.

I was sad for her. She had the problems she had and she 
was a good person deep down, but she also had a habit of 
making poor choices for herself and for me.

I'm not a very social person. I've got two friends at 
school. Both are really quiet and timid girls, but both 
would run to their parents or the school counselors if 
they knew about my relationship with an older man, with 
whom I am now living. So I did something I don't do very 
well...I lied. I lied to them and told them the same 
story my grandmother understood. I was just staying with 
my mother's ex-fiancé because my mom was drinking too 
much. 

They empathized with me though they clearly didn't get 
what it's like to have an addict parent. Part of me 
wanted to explain to them what it feels like to have a 
man repeatedly licking your clitoris for an hour or so. 
But that would destroy what I had.

What did I have? I had a man old enough to be my father, 
rich enough to support me and ten other girls, providing 
me housing, room and board in exchange for being his 
mistress? No, I decided, I was not his mistress. That 
would mean another woman is his wife or fiancé. That, 
clearly, was not the problem anymore.

School let out and my boyfriend pulled up in his 
Mercedes to pick me up. It is hard to separate out my 
boyfriend privately in my thoughts with what I was 
telling others. But my body told me the reality. We 
arrived home and I did homework in the kitchen while he 
finished some business calls in his study. I cooked. He 
did dishes. Then we decided to go to bed early. I think 
we both knew what to expect.

I walked into the master bedroom and saw bags with my 
things in them on the floor at the foot of the bed. 
Before I could start toward them to begin putting away 
my things, I felt his hand in the middle of my upper 
back, between the shoulder blades, firmly push me over 
the edge of the bed.

I let out a gasp as the softness of the bed drove the 
air out of my lungs, catching me from my fall forward. 
Then I felt my pants being tugged down, still buttoned, 
over my hips and to my knees. He was taking me. I 
realized it immediately when I felt his finger spread my 
labia open and enter my vagina. It hurt just a little 
when his finger entered me and opened my body for the 
final violation I would allow him. 

He massaged my vagina slowly as I heard him unzip his 
trousers and remove himself. Quickly I felt his fingers 
leave me, only to be replaced by his larger instrument. 
I cried out softly into the mattress as he entered me 
without concern for my pain or my pleasure. His hands 
grasped my wrists and pulled them back like the reins of 
a horse and his pace quickened almost immediately. All I 
could do was bite the bedding beneath me and sob as he 
tore away at the last barrier between me-the-girl and 
me-the-woman.

The next day was Saturday and I awoke to find him 
reading on his Kindle. We had made love the way I had 
always expected after that first final violation. It had 
hurt and even the next morning I felt completely raw and 
spent. but it had finally happened. I had given myself 
to this man. I lay there with my head on his chest, 
clutching my legs together in pain from the night before 
yet feeling satisfied that after all the orgasms he had 
given me with his mouth, I had satisfied him as well.

To be continued...

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 83