But I guess saying only that is not sufficient. So let me elaborate. When speaking about ‘how I discovered my kinks answering the question for day 3, I mentioned that many things happened in my life which took my attention away from my sexual development. But since I have been embracing my kinks and actively lived them, I have been thinking about where it comes from. What was my first ever kinky experience?
I cannot help to think back on the sexual abuse when I was a child. In my adult life I have heard about and spoken to women who were sexually abused when they were children. Some of them were pretty scarred by what had happened to them. I could not really share the feeling. Yes, there was a time that I hated what happened to me back then, but more because I felt guilty not for being scarred. Sometimes I pretended to be scarred, because I wanted to feel ‘normal’. What I vividly remember from back then ( I was 10) is that he (he was 21) used to read me a bedtime story (with the permission of my parents) and that I loved it when he asked me to stand where my parents would not see me and to drop my panties. He only looked at me. As far as I remember, I never touched my naked sex.
What I remember too of that specific period in time is that I put match sticks between my pussy lips and pretended that he told me to do it. Whether there actually was a time when he told me to do so, I really don’t know anymore. The match sticks hurt, but I liked it. I remember that I got bored with the match sticks very quickly, took them out and then went to play outside, but I also kept on doing it, time and time again. Indeed, looking back on it, that must be where my kinky nature revealed itself.
As a girl of about thirteen or fourteen years of age I wrote a novel. It was about a woman that was abducted in the Sahara desert and subjected to the whims of the sheikh. It excited me to write the novel and because it excited me, I never had anyone else read it as I did not want them to think that I am ‘abnormal’. Least of all did I want my parents to know what kind of things were in my mind. I still have the handwritten novel and if I read it now, it’s actually quite innocent, but of course I knew the dark secrets in my mind back then.
Also in my teenage years I loved to flash my pussy to the neighbor and I liked it when the boys I made out with put their hands in my pants and just brushed my pussy lips. I had something that they wanted and I liked it. I loved to tease them, to provoke them, but I loved it more when they took over and I gladly subjected to their eager fingers. None of these boys ever brought me to orgasm, but they definitely made my nipples hard and my pussy wet.
Yes, looking back on it, I know that I was a slut. And I still am; only now I am my husband’s slut.
(written on 03.04.2011)
© Rebel’s Notes