My name is Ashley. I’m a 32-year-old, single white female. I started visiting xHamster some time ago at the suggestion of my friend, Mark (more about him later). He asked me to find movies that I enjoyed and share them with him. It was his way of “getting to know me” and I enjoyed the game. I also enjoyed the movies I found, but was drawn more to the stories. I am especially turned on by the ones that are (or FEEL) real.
It made me want to share some of my experiences.
I was a victim of abuse growing up, but like many I ended up falling in love with my abuser (my father) and my sex life is driven by the way he “trained” me. He made me his little whore and though I do not see him anymore, I remain his little whore to this day. Not everything about sex is perfect, good, sexy, hot. Some of it is pain and baggage. It shapes you and even when you try to resist, you find yourself wanting, desiring, the very things that you’re running from.
That’s the basis of my story.
I am sure that I will eventually write about some of the “good times” I had with my father. I may even write about the bad. My stories may never be read. They may even be poorly written. But they will always be honest – even when you, the reader, might wish that they wouldn’t be. But even if I walk over darker topics, I hope that you enjoy them. I hope they excite you and turn you on.
As I said above, I am single. Never married – never wanted to be. No c***dren and don’t want any. When I finally moved away to college, I loved being alone and have never wanted to change that. I enjoy the freedom to live how I want, date who I want, and battle my demons without anyone telling me how I should or should not behave.
At least that’s what I told myself. Deep down I always feel kind of alone.
Desperate to be independent, I fight against the “need” to have a father figure – fucked up though mine was. Deep down – and in my sex life – I am still that submissive little girl who will do whatever “daddy” tells her to. The hard-nosed business woman that most people see is nothing like the “used slut” that my lovers have known.
But while much of my sex life is me being dominated, f***ed, “taken” (and I desire those things like a crack addiction) I want to tell you about the first time I had sex with someone that I wanted. Oh, you’ll see that I did eventually learn to “want” my father, but Jason was the first man I ever “chose”.
It was my first semester of college and things weren’t going very well. I had a hard time meeting people and was struggling to fit in. I’d been hit on plenty. I’m 5’3”, blonde, and have always been on the small side, with my weight hovering around 100 lbs. I’ve never had trouble attracting attention, even when I don’t want it.
Jason was different though. He didn’t seem to fit in any better than I did. He was cute, but quite the nerd. He was tall – 6’3”. I remember because he was exactly a foot taller than I am. His lack of grace seemed to be his downfall. But he was genuine and when we struck up a conversation in the library I was sure that we’d be great friends. And I was desperate for a friend. He was two years ahead of me and would often talk in circles – or at least it sounded like that. He was studying history and was brilliant to listen to. We struck up a fast friendship and quickly became inseparable. It wasn’t a “love connection” really. I preferred a different kind of man. But as a friend, he was closer to me than almost anyone. We studied together, hung out together, laughed together. We talked about everything.
We were at his apartment and the movie we were watching had long ended. Our conversation had meandered through the usual gripes and gossip and had settled on past relationships. Neither of us had much experience with relationships and we ended up laughing at our “sad” list of conquests. I hadn’t opened up about my past and really couldn’t explain to him that my only relationship was with a very controlling dad who didn’t let me date. I did have a boyfriend or two that my dad never found out about, but I had to be so careful that they never lasted long or went very far.
We lamented our lack of “game”, joking about how we might both die alone. “But, I could live with that!” he said to me. “I just don’t want my tombstone to read ‘virgin.’”
He kept talking and laughing, but I sat stunned. I had never really thought of Jason sexually, but I also never thought of him as being a virgin. The idea was strange to me. From the time I knew what sex was, I was having it in some form or another.
“Wait,” I said, stopping him mid-sentence. “You’ve NEVER had sex?”
“No. Uh-uh. Never.” He said with an exaggerated sigh.
“You mean…” I paused, unsure how to ask how far he’d actually gone.
“I mean, nothing.” He said, still smiling. He obviously didn’t understand that this was strange to me. “I’ve kissed a girl and that is as far as I’ve gone.” He continued talking and I pretended to listen. He didn’t seem distraught about it and it didn’t feel like he was fishing for anything from me. He was just pouring his heart out and trying hard to laugh it off. He was proud of the fact that he ‘almost’ touched her tit, but she pulled away and that was the end of the kiss – and soon after the relationship. “I shouldn’t have pushed it.” He insisted. “What do you think?”
I had never really told a man “no” – not that I had ever been in a position where one would listen if I did. I had no idea what to say to him. I thought of the times where I tried to push hands away and was rewarded with a tighter grip and a brutal mauling on my b-cups. Had he gone too far? On what planet?
I looked at him for a minute, quietly. He was waiting for an answer.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” I said, disappearing quickly. I don’t know what I struggled with. I stood in the bathroom, griping the sink, scolding myself for being so weird. I should just go back and tell him that he didn’t go too far – to encourage him. Men are supposed to touch women’s tits. Sure they needed to be invited to do it (I knew that, even if it had never been my reality) but it’s natural and normal. But all I kept thinking is that I needed to do something for him. In my weird way of thinking, he was a man in need and I was a whore who took care of those kinds of things. That was it! I felt obligated! I felt like I needed to give him what no one else ever had.
It made sense – and I knew that Jason was a friend who didn’t expect anything from me. But what perplexed me is that the minute I had my “breakthrough” and understood my inner conflict, I became incredibly horny. I wanted to be obligated. I wanted to HAVE TO. There was no question – it is who I am.
I splashed some cool water on my face and tried to steady my breathing. I was really going to do this.
“Stand up,” I said walking back into the living room.
“Sshh.” I hushed him. “Please stand up?” My voice was weak and I really wished it had been stronger.
He stood, looking at me quizzically.
I walked over and got down on my knees.
“What are you…” He started.
I didn’t answer. I started pulling at his belt.
“Ashley,” he said. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes I do.” I said truthfully, unzipping him and sliding my hand into his boxers. I felt him jump when my hands touched him, but he didn’t pull away. I looked up and smiled as I fished him out.
He was just a little longer than average and quite thin, but the shape of his cock was perfect. I started massaging him to life – which didn’t take long. Just a few strokes and he was iron rod hard, feverish and breathless.
“Oh my god.” He whispered.
“No,” I laughed. “Just me.” And with that I took him into my mouth fast and hard, all the way to the base. He grunted and shook and I slowly pulled my lips back along his shaft. I let him slide all the way out before flicking the tip of his cock with my tongue.
“That feels incredible.” He said, his legs rigid.
“Good. It’s supposed to.” I popped the head back in my mouth and swirled my tongue around the tip. “Want me to keep going?”
“Please… Fuck yes… Please!”
I began to bob back and forth on him, taking him deep and then pulling back until the ridge of his cock touched my lips. He oozed precum. He tasted good, very clean. I enjoyed having him in my mouth and became lost just sucking him. I looked up, still going, and he was watching me, his eyes glazed with lust.
I pulled him from my mouth. “You taste incredible,” I said. “I’m going to enjoy swallowing your cum.”
His knees buckled when I said that. “I can’t believe this,” he groaned and shook his head.
“Would you like that, Jason? Would you like me to swallow for you?”
“Fuck yes!” I could feel his cock throbbing in my hand and smiled up at him, slapping my face and tongue with his cock.
I leaned in and kissed his hairy balls. He certainly had never found a reason to trim them so I didn’t stay long, but it did seem to be the thing that he needed. He pulled back away from me, grabbed his cock in one hand, my head in the other and put the head against my lips. I smiled, pressing my teeth together so he couldn’t get in. He pushed, pleaded. “Please,” he begged. “I’m so ready.”
I let him push vainly for a few seconds more and then opened quickly, letting him shove his cock into my throat. “Ooh!” He moaned, grabbing my head in both hands and humping my face f***efully. I felt the head of his cock popping into my throat as his balls bounced off my chin. I held myself still. He wanted to fuck my face and I wanted my face fucked.
“Oh god, Ash! I’m going to cum!” I reached up and grabbed his ass, pulling him harder into my mouth, encouraging him to pound my throat with his hard cock. I felt his legs stiffen as he pushed all of himself into me. He held still, his mouth open but soundless. Then suddenly he pulled all the way out before slamming hard back in.
I felt the first jet of cum fire down my throat, so deep I couldn’t taste it. It went right into my stomach as he screamed loud enough to wake the building. Then he pumped more into me. I swallowed as fast as I could, but he filled my mouth to overflowing. Jet after jet of his sweet seed filled my mouth until he finally slowed, holding himself in me and letting his cock jerk the last of his orgasm against my tongue.
When he was done, he stumbled back towards the couch, pants around his ankles. I laughed when he fell back onto the cousins like he’d been punched.
He sat there looking at me as I laughed and fingered the cum that had dripped down my cheek back into my mouth.
“How did I do?” I asked him, fishing for a compliment.
“That was unbelievable.” He said, barely getting the words out. “Why did you…?”
“Because you needed it,” I replied. “And because I wanted to.”
We spent another hour talking. He kept asking me questions about sex, trying to find out how someone with so few boyfriends had learned how to do what I did. I skirted the questions, fabricated the truth, and finally left, promising him that if it wouldn’t spoil our friendship, we could keep playing together. With my belly full of cum, and feeling like I had done a “good thing” I floated back to my apartment, fingering myself to sl**p once I got there.