Slut

I was fourteen years old when Joey became the second of my two brother to decide he wanted a piece of my tight ass.  Because of  the after school activities of our two older brothers and the work schedules of our Mom and Dad, Joey and I would find ourselves alone for not uncommonly a couple of hours most days after school.  Once he and I fucked, neither had any interest in not fucking any time we had the chance to do so.

I had over the previous two years become quite adept at sucking cock.  In fact, the day Joey and I fucked I had originally intended to do nothing more than suck cock.  But he had gotten all hot and horny and when he suggested we should fuck, who was I to  say 'No.'

Over the previous two years I might suggest a ball park number and suggest that I had sucked liked one hundred guys.  This is not to say that I had given one hundred blowjobs.  Many of the boys would come back for seconds.  Over the next two years, I easily did one hundred guys and then another one hundred guys.  If you do the math this might suggest that I got fucked about twice a week over this time.  Sounds about right to me.  So hence it is easy to determine how it is that I came to see myself as something of a slut.

After fucking me, on some occasions, Joey would asked me how it felt.  I would usually make reference to the screaming and moaning and begging he had been hearing over the last hour or so as an answer, but he seemed to what to know more.  I sometimes felt he wanted to to share how it felt for me as compared to how it felt for other girls -- as if I have anyway of knowing how it feels to get fucked in my pussy.  One day I came home and discovered him in one of my dresses.

For the next several years of his life, Joey would strive to argue that the only reason he was a crossdresser was because he liked the feel of the clothes.  However after his divorce at the age of twenty four, JoBeth and I would often club together on those nights when I was not whoring.

Whatever was his story, I could never bring myself to have sex with him again.  We were on two different pages.  We wanted two different things.  Even his crossdressing seemed somewhat comical to me.  Why would any man want to crossdress as a woman?  Did not make any sense to me as a young woman.

At fifteen when I started fucking on a regular basis, I had the advantage of being a few inches taller than the girls my age, tall enough maybe to be eightteen.  I had learned over the years how to use makeup and cosmetics with a flair that went just far enough beyond casual to give me the look of someone older.  Through the pageant I had entered, I had developed several mannerisms that would have been somewhat provocative for a girl of fifteen, less so for a girl of eighteen.  So once I started going out looking to get fucked, more often than not I got fucked.

On occasion when I was a cocksucker, I would hook up with an older man, possibly one of the men in my neighborhood or someone I meet at the mall.  Before we would go out separate ways, he would slip me a $20 or a $50.  I did not ask for it, but appreciated it when offered and never turned it down.  Never even made a pretense of turning it down.  This generosity would continue once I started fucking.  Mostly it was older men, adult men, men who know that they had just fucked someone too young to be fucked by a man of  their age.  I found myself on occasion glancing the way of an older man at the mall hopeful of earning  this tip if we fucked.  And then one night, I found myself dressing for the explicit purpose of whoring at the mall.