These are true stories of experiences by my stepdaughter being raped by her first stepfather.
Raped By My Step Dad - Part 5: Again and Again
Dear Readers: If you haven't read part 1, please do so to better understand how and why this is being written. These are true stories of experiences by my stepdaughter being raped by her first stepfather. They are written from her point of view.
I hated my step dad for taking my virginity. But I hated myself even more for letting him. What he was doing to me or rather what he had me do to him was wrong, I knew that, but he somehow made me feel good about myself for doing it, for being so good at it. For the first time in my life I had some self-esteem. Then I blew it the day he actually fucked me. I didn't understand how really, just that he wasn't happy with me. I didn't want him to touch me again, and yet, well I wanted his approval, wanted to do it right for him.
One Saturday, a few weeks later, he asked me to ride with him somewhere. I don't remember where, just that we took his jeep. I was staring out the window when I felt him pat me on the leg.
"How are you doing kido?" he asked.
I smiled at him and said, "Fine. I was just day dreaming I guess. Where are we going?" We had turned off the highway and had been traveling for about ten minutes down some lonely country road.
"Right here," he replied as he turned and pulled into a nest of trees. "I've been thinking about our first time and decided to give you another chance."
"Wha...what do you mean," I stammered, sounding scared even to myself.
"You know exactly what I mean," he said as he reached over me and pulled a lever that made my seat fall backwards so that I was laying flat on my back.
If I had any doubts about what he meant, they were all gone now. Part of me wanted to prove I could do it right, part of me was still frightened. That latter part made me cry, the other kept me from fighting him. I let him lean down and kiss me. He hadn't done that before. I kissed him back, like I had seen my mother kiss him, like two lovers would kiss. I wanted to please him.
"Wow, who taught you to kiss?" he asked. I blushed as he wiped away my tears with his fingers. I didn't cry anymore but reached up behind his head and pulled him down to me, kissing him like I had seen people kiss so many times on TV. He undid my jeans button, unzipped them. I lifted up my hips as he pulled them down over my butt along with my panties. He then brought my legs up, my knees to my chest pinning them between us while he undid his own pants.
"This time I am ready for you. This time I give you permission to take my cum, all of it, deep inside." I shook my head in affirmation.
The weight of his body pressed down on my legs as I felt his hands pull my thighs apart. Then he entered me, full and hard. He pushed up against me and it hurt. Pulling back slightly he pushed in again, harder this time. I closed my eyes as he repeated this until he was fully inside of me, slapping his body against my bottom with each thrust.
"My God Megan, you are so fucking tight," he exclaimed. "You feel incredible."
Then it was a good thing to be tight, I realized. He kept ramming me faster and harder, moaning and saying how wonderful I made him feel. The pain was gone and I had to admit it was feeling OK, actually pretty good.
"Shit, I'm cumming Megan," he yelled as he pushed in one last time and held himself, buried deep inside of me. I felt his cum shoot inside like before, warm liquid filling me somewhere far from my opening. Hopefully this time he won't be made at me about it, about me taking his cum. Maybe this time he'll praise me for it. I found myself holding my breath while he finished, waiting for him to tell me if approved, hoping he would. Then he pulled himself out of me and let my legs fall as he sat back into his own seat.
"Megan, you are a better fuck than your own mother, do you know that?"
"Really?" I asked with a smile.
"Pull your pants up before you get cum all over my seat," he warned me. "Yes, twice as good as your mother, easy."
How could I hate this man? He was so good to me. He made me feel important, worthwhile. He gave to me what my mother never did, a sense of value. It didn't seem like much of a price to pay, to give him a piece of myself, my body. The price was well worth it and I would continue to pay it as long as he wanted it.
What the hell was I thinking? I just let my step dad fuck me and I felt OK about it. Hell I felt good about it. And he was cheating on my mom, fucking me behind her back. Had he cheated on her before me? Was he just tricking me into fucking him? To do that to a 10-year-old, isn't that rape? My emotions were all over the map. I was one mixed up kid.
As we drove back home he asked me again, "Are you OK?"
"Yes, yes I'm OK. In fact I'm good," I replied.
"Oh there is no doubt about that," Bob said. "You are more than good. You are the best fuck I've ever had, I promise you that."
There was a long silence. Then I decided to continue the conversation. "Are you just saying that?" I asked. "Because I don't know what I'm doing."
"It's because it comes naturally for you," he explained.
We didn't talk much after that. I just thought about him telling me I was better than my mom. I was really good at something. That thought just kept going through my head.
Over the next week I was in a better mood. I also noticed that Bob touched me more often than before, a gentle touch to the shoulder when he talked to me, or maybe to push my hair behind my ear. I enjoyed the extra attention. He just didn't do it much when others were around, only when we were alone.
On Thursday evening he stuck his head in my bedroom door and said, "Be sure to get home right after school tomorrow," and then left without waiting for a response. I had a pretty good idea what it would be about.
Friday after school I quickly made my way home. When I walked in the house I noticed the front drapes pulled shut. That in itself wasn't that unusual since the late sun would shine through. But it was usually done by my mom after she got home from work a couple of hours later. Bob never did it. I went straight to my bedroom and dropped off my books but he must have heard me come in.
"Megan, is that you?" he called out. "Come on out here."
I obeyed and followed his voice to the living room. Now our living room furniture was such that the couch crossed across the middle of the room. You could easily walk around it. He was standing behind it so I walked over to him, behind the couch.
"Take off your jeans," he instructed. I didn't smile, didn't question him, didn't give any reaction at all. I just did as he ordered and removed my jeans.
"Turn around and face the couch. Yes, that's it. Now bend over and put your hands on the top of the couch. Spread your feet apart."
I did as I was told. There I was in my pink socks, white cotton panties, t-shirt and bra, leaning over at the waist with my hands on the couch and my feet spread wide apart.
"Hold on tight," Bob said as he grabbed my panties and pulled them out at the back. Using a pocketknife he cut the elastic band at the top of my panties. After putting his knife away he grabbed my panties with both hands and ripped them off of me. Quickly dropping his own pants he wasted no time in plunging deep inside of me from behind. I gasped with his first few thrusts and then just let my head drop as he began fucking me. Holding me tight around the waste with both hands and standing between my feet he pounded his hard shaft deep inside of me again and again.
After a few minutes of this he reached down with his right hand and began to finger the front of me while he continued to fuck me from behind. Something different was happening to me. My whole body began to get tense. I was feeling like little needles were pricking me all over. This went on for a couple of minutes more when suddenly a blast of heat and sunlight seemed to explode from my midsection shooting outward to all parts of my body. My arms and legs went limp and I would have fallen if Bob had not held me up. I may have passed out for a few moments as the next thing I realized he was shooting his cum into me again. When he was done he laid me over the back of the couch. I was still breathing hard as I tried to figure out what happened to me.
"Was that your first orgasm Megan?" he asked.
"I guess so," I replied, "if that's what you call it."
I stood up, still feeling a bit uneasy. Bob reached down and picked up my torn panties. Handing them to me he said, "Don't let yourself drip on the carpet. You don't want your mother to find it and figure out what you've been doing." I took the panties and held them to my opening. He was right. I sure didn't want Mom to know that I was fucking her husband, my step dad, and doing better at it than she ever could. I realized a part of me wanted her to find out, wanted to rub it in her face. I could fuck better than she could, Bob told me, and I was only ten years old.
"When a girl gives her virginity to a man, like you did to me Megan, then there is a physical tie between the two forever." He had my attention. "But when you add in the girl having her first orgasm with the man, that creates a connection that reaches down to the soul. I own you completely Megan, body and soul. You could say you and I are now soul mates forever. Nothing can come between us. I wish you were my wife so we didn't have to sneak around. But that's just what we'll have to do until you're 18 years old. You don't want your mother to find out. She would hate you forever for taking her man away from her, for making me love you more than her."
This was too much for me to process, my step dad loving me more than my mom, wanting me more than my mom. I didn't used to like him at all and now I loved him too. Over the next several weeks Bob fucked me three times a week, every Friday after school, once sometime over the weekend, and then we managed to get in what he called a quickie sometime early in the week. He never brought me to climax during this time, though I came close a few times. He liked taking me from behind but to this point we had never been completely nude together.
One day after one of our quickies he said, "I want to take you to a motel with me, so that we can spend all night together like man and wife."
"How are we going to do that without Mom knowing?" I asked.
"We need to take a trip some Friday," he began explaining, "and then have car trouble. It will be far enough away that we will have to get a room for the night so the car can be fixed in the morning. Do you want to do that, spend the night with me?"
I had long since rationalized my activities with Bob to myself, telling myself that he loved me more than my own mother. My showing love to him was a reasonable response, one that he obviously enjoyed and appreciated. "Yes, I would like that very much. Do you think I'll have an orgasm again?"
He smiled and hugged me. "I love you so much Megan. I don't think we'll get much sleep though. I plan on giving you a night you will never forget. I'll make sure you have orgasms repeatedly all night long," he promised.
But that night never happened. School was soon out for the year and my mother shipped me off to my grandparents for the summer on the far side of the state. When I returned nearly three months later Bob was gone and my mother was divorcing him. When I heard the news I burst out crying. How could she do that? I loved him and he loved me.
I went into a deep depression that affected me for the next year. Then I just blocked it all out, like it never happened. I don't remember when I forgot about what he did to me. I didn't remember again until my early twenties. Once all the memories had come back I finally understood all that had happened. Bob had manipulated me from the start. He never loved me. He just wanted to fuck me. He knew what I needed emotionally and he gave that to me, and I gave him sex for it. The main difference between a whore and myself is that a whore knows that she is selling it. I didn't. Being young and innocent I really believed everything Bob told me. I just hope telling my story now could somehow help someone else. Maybe you could warn your daughters about how easily someone can manipulate you. Maybe you could just love your daughters more and they won't feel the need to look elsewhere for love.
I wonder now if what happened when I was 10 years old shaped the kind of person I was as a teenager, wild and loose, even though I didn't remember any of that earlier time with Bob during my teen years. I carried those wild ways up into my early 20s giving me a decade where I fucked so many people I wouldn't have remembered them all if I hadn't have shared them along the way with my current step dad (who didn't rape me by the way, nor have I slept with him; though I'm not sure why not). I even did a stint as an escort and have a few nice stories from that.
If you are interested in hearing about my escapades from when I was 14 to about age 23 then leave me a comment that you want to hear my stories. I swear they are all true.