You say you wreckedyour own home. Please tell us the story
My stepfather was an absolute perv, and in my preteen years often tried to catch me naked both in my room and in the bathroom. He did a lot of knocking-while-entering of my bedroom, and just walking into the bathroom and claiming he “didn’t know” I was in there. After a while, I figured out what he was doing. My suspicions were confirmed when he started “accidentally” touching my ass or chest, and grabbing me and pulling me onto his lap when we were watching TV together. I figured my mother knew about it, because how could she not, and that she was OK with it, so I didn’t say anything about it. But one night she was talking about how horrible a man on the news was because he’d been abusing his daughter. I said something about my stepfather doing stuff, but she just rolled her eyes and said I was exaggerating things because I was mad at him (we’d had a fight earlier that evening). So I figured I had to prove it to her.
So I started wearing less around the house, started letting my stepfather catch me naked or semi-naked more often, and even flirting with him a little. It didn’t take much until he was grabbing me and feeling me up more often, but never when my mother was around. She was a nurse who worked a lot of evening shifts, so he had plenty of opportunities when she was working. I kept doing more things with him to try and get him to slip up and leave some kind of evidence, but he was very careful. Before I knew it, things had escalated to the point of him pressuring me to fuck him, and I didn’t know how to get myself out of it.
Months later, he got so drunk one night after a bad day at work that I was able to tease him to the point of grabbing me and pulling my shorts down and fucking me roughly right out on the sofa. He had no idea that I was teasing him like that because it was right at the time my mother was due home from work. So naturally, she walked in to discover her husband with his hard dick out and her crying daughter face down on the sofa with her bare ass in the air. She flew into a holy rage and kicked him out immediately. The divorce was UGLY. He was also convicted as a sex offender, lost his job over it, and had to move to another town because he couldn’t get a job anywhere in ours.
My mother and I hadn’t really gotten along well for quite some time, but she was super sickly sweet toward me after that. For a while, at least. Honestly, I was glad when she went back to mostly ignoring me, because at least that felt normal and real.
Flash forward a year or so, when my mother moved a new boyfriend in with us. Of course, I couldn’t stand him, and didn’t appreciate his attempts at taking on a fatherly role with me. My mother was totally wrapped around his little finger, though, so me telling her I didn’t like him was always just an argument, and never made anything better. So it didn’t take me very long to decide I wanted to get rid of him, too. And I already knew how to do it.
He was quite a bit harder to convince, though. It took a long time before he started showing signs of being tempted by my teenage flirtations. But eventually he did give in, and got caught almost immediately because he didn’t give much thought to hiding evidence, and found used condoms in the trash along with a ripped pair of my panties (I had begged him to get rough with me and just rip them off). He was out the door immediately, too, and my mother went back to being sappy, apologetic, and unbearable. She blamed herself for having terrible taste in men.
It took her some time to start dating again after that, and even when she found someone she liked, she didn’t just move him right in like she had before. I didn’t hate the guy; in fact, I kind of liked him. But by then I was already addicted to the rush of power I felt over men’s lives when they were secretly fucking me. I had learned the power of secrets, and I craved that power. So it wasn’t with mean intentions that I started fucking him, too; he was almost as easy to convince as my step-father had been. And he was even showing me what really good sex was like. That was why it was a complete accident that my mother found us fucking at his house one afternoon when she had come to surprise him.
Well, of course she was done with him, because she couldn’t stand anyone who would fuck a 15 year old girl. But she also realized that he wasn’t wholly to blame; she realized that it was highly unlikely that she would date three different men who would be the kind of men to rape her daughter, unless her daughter was actively involved and not just an innocent victim. (Especially since I was skipping school to fuck him that afternoon.)
She didn’t press charges against him, since I had seduced him on purpose, but she did end things with him. However, she lost her shit with me, blamed me for ruining her life, and kicked me out of her house.
And that’s the story of my first wrecked home: mine.
This shouldn’t turn me on right?
