Memories of a Hairless Pussy

​Good morning friends.  Yes,  I’m back.  After a little technical difficulty, I am back with a new phone and a brand new number.  Now, how the fuck do I switch over 7 years of friends who don’t contact all the time??  Shit.  This one’s a toughie. 

Anyways,  how are ya’ll this Wednesday morning?  I’m feeling chipper and ready for a good day.  I haven’t actually had too much company, so I guess we will just have to discuss more nasty teenage shit.  Hell yeah!  I’M IN!! 


When I hooked up with my best girl, Naughty Little Native, I found that we agreed on a whole lot of things.  It was obvious when we met that we have a lot in common.  The reason… Well, my best guess is it’s because we both started as very naughty little girls, and neither of us feel particularly guilty about it now.  Actually,  we are possibly even more freaky than usual females because of this fact.  Oh well.  It is what it is.  Right?  At least it’s been a positive force in our lives rather than a negative one.  Few can say that. 


I think I first realized I was different about the age of nine.  I used to rush home from school in the afternoons, in order to beat my brother.  With the house to myself, I was able to run around naked,  look in the mirror at my completely hairless vagina, and (my fave) insert my mother’s treasured porcelain gifts into myself.  I knew it was wrong.  But it made me feel good… On the inside.  And now,  I had a secret that was ALL mine.


This might shock you, but I was a virgin until I was just about 14. That’s three years AFTER I began writing sex stories,  and WAY after I’d actually been penetrated by fingers and objects.  (Damn! I sound like a fuckin whore.  Tee hee hee.)  And my first time is certainly not something to talk about.  But as horny as I was for so long, don’t you agree that’s a seriously long time to wait?? 


Interestingly enough, immediately after getting laid for the very first time, I ended the child molestation that had continued my entire memory by five of my family members on both my father’s and mother’s side.  Would it be offensive if I thought of myself as a HOT AS SHIT little kid??  Too late. 


I can tell you that those years of pent up frustration is why I originally began writing my sex stories.  They began as just my fantasies.  Over the years, I began including the fantasies of my friends.  But the older I grew, the more experience I had to draw from.  Now, thanks to you,  my friends, I can write about REAL experiences. 


Thank you, Friends. You’ve become my REAL family.  My gratitude abounds. 


To be continued…. 

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