When we were young in the 90s, our parents were Christian, but that left me, and my brother home alone on Wednesday nights…
So, I started inviting the girls over to play dirty games, like Truth, or Dare at first. My brother listened in, and asked questions after they left, but without my folks or any other adults around, most of it was about sex, and boys.
He asked me if any of my friends liked him, and I’m not going to lie. He was a teenager, a couplefew years older (Depending on the friend) and yeah. They talked about pretty much any boy that fit into that general description. A horny teenager, with hair on his balls, and a constant boner when he doesn’t get a chance to jack off. Even about our brothers (I wasn’t the only one that had one) but I couldn’t answer any of their questions about him, right away.
Because we’re raised Christian, that ment dressing modestly, closing the bathroom when you’re using the toilet, and knocking to make sure nobody’s in there. I couldn’t even tell them for sure if he was Circumcised, so I guessed. Likewise, you’d hold your breath, or your head in a pillow when you’re playing with yourself, so you don’t moan, and get caught playing with yourself.
So, sex was dirty, and incest. Type stuff was even dirtier to joke about. We never actually did it, but because of hump-day, we didn’t have to. It didn’t take long for him to invite his friends over to listen to us talking dirty, and giggling, but by then. This kinda thing tends to snowball, out of control.
Like Truth or Dare, first you want to come up with something better, or worse to ask than the last girl. Then, you spend all week thinking of something better to ask next Wednesday. By the time more boys started showing up to eavesdrop on us, the girls were already bringing their mom’s and aunt’s sex toys with them.
If they had any at their house, because their parents aren’t such prudes that they think vibrators are magic wands of the devil, and turn little girls into sex crazed nymphomaniacs. Well, they might have a point there, but irregardless. That gave us lots of great dares, like sit on the vibrator for 1 whole minute, without orgasming.
Of course, I wanted to orgasm more than I wanted to win, but I was also the best one at hiding it. Other girls were really great at faking orgasms, especially knowing that boys were listening, but I could get off without even breaking a sweat! I did it in class, with a little wad of rubber putty (Kneadable eraser? I call that Rubber Putty for obvious reasons) in my panties, and no one was any the wiser.
So, I wasn’t a very good Christian girl, honestly I wasn’t Christian at all, but I was the best at Acting like the good little Christian girl, and getting away with it. “Look ma, no hands!” I did it in Sunday school, and in church pews. I got off kneeling at the alter for Communion once, without anything in my panties.
I just had to open my eyes, stick out my tongue, and let the deacon stick a host wafer in my mouth. Mumble something about the “Body of Christ,” and move on. By the time he came back with the “Blood of Christ,” I was on a hair trigger. So I took a deep breath, and held it. Trembling, and imagine pulling down Jesus’ loincloth, to suck off whatever he had in there. Of course he’s circumcised, he was a Jew! The cum of Christ, and even the piss of Christ!
Trying to walk back to my family waiting together, weak kneed, sweaty, and red in the face. Out of breath, and Chris (Not his real name) grinning at me. He could see it, and he crossed his legs like a girl to hide his boner. He learned to scissor like a girl too, at some point, but that was on Sundays.
On Wednesdays, he kinda had to cock block with boys around, because by then we’re practicing blowjobs on dildos. Sucking as loudly as we could, and stopping to cum out loud, because we sat on vibrators when we’re in the “Hot seat,” but I just kept sucking, and came quietly.
It didn’t take long for the boys to start bringing videos to watch. Like I said, this was the 90s, so we didn’t have the internet. Our family didn’t get internet until the late 2000s, because it’s new technology, and they probably heard that you can get dirty pictures on the internet, but as you all know, the stories are where it gets really raunchy, because you don’t actually have to get a Demon to do a story about getting raped by fucking Demons.
He was still Christian, meaning he still believed in that bullshit about God, sin, and burning in hell if you spill your seed. I don’t know how long he was beating off, and hiding it, because he was ashamed of himself, and hid it so well. At some point, he learned to start a fire in his pants by rubbing his dick together between his legs, he just never admitted it to me.
So then, the boys started coming in the den with us, to use the VCR. They had DVDs too, but nothing to play them on. We had a Laser Disk player, but nobody had porno movies for that. So, Chris got up, and said “All right, we’re going to have to have some rules to make sure it doesn’t go too far.”
“Oh!” We all wined, but it was his house, he was the oldest, and the boys were his friends.
“First, keep your clothes on, no touching anybody but yourself, if you have to use the restroom, go in there, and take care of it.” The tape just kept playing, without anybody fast forwarding it, but it took a little while before the action to really get going anyways.
So, a part of the reason we called it “Hump day” is most of the action was dry humping, through clothes. Girls wore skirts, or dresses, but “No touching” lasted about a week. You could sit in his lap, and butt hump him through his zipper, but he had to go to the bathroom to finish himself off. (Unless he blew it in his pants.)
Keep your clothes on eventually ment getting felt up under your top. So tops, and skirts replaced long dresses, that didn’t have separate tops for them to get their hands up. “Keep on your underwear” doesn’t count if you didn’t put a bra on in the first place, or took it off before you got there…
All those rules lasted, about as long as it took for people to start breaking them, or at least coming up with excuses like “You didn’t say we had to go to the bathroom alone!” So, he wrote that down on the rules, and made us all sign them again, but it didn’t say that we couldn’t go up to the bedrooms, either. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” drop the seat, and flush the toilet. So everyone can hear it down stairs, and then sneak off to one of the other rooms with whoever followed you.
Until boys and girls got caught fucking in my room, his room, the guest bedroom, And our parent’s room. So, he had to write that in the rules, and make us all sign it again. He also added that you had to “Go home alone,” and there was no way to enforce that, besides following them home to make sure they didn’t hook up, and fuck all over the neighborhood after they left.
They’re not Christians, none of the other kids were even from strict religious households. We sure as hell didn’t invite any from our church, and the few that came from other churches were like me: Raised Christian by Christian parents, who made them go to church, but gave up actually believing all that nonsense about the time we found out about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy.
Also, there were rules that went without saying, like no Incest, Bestiality, or Necrophilia. Nobody brought their dogs, and cats to the sex orgies, they didn’t have horses, donkeys, or unicorns to bring. Same thing with Necrophilia, even if you killed somebody to masturbate in her corpse, you wouldn’t bring her along to do it in front of everybody, because somebody there is going to think that’s more than a little weird, and probably call the cops anonymously.
“Yeah, you remember that girl that disappeared a little while ago? Well, I know who has her body, and what he’s doing to it. You might want to go get him before she starts stinking too badly, or he finds another girl he likes.” Just assuming a boy killing a girl to necrophile her body, because I can’t imagine a sexy way for a girl to do it.
What, finger yourself with his dead fingers? Hump his nose? Play with mister softy? When they call them “Stiffs,” they’re not talking about that. Besides, you don’t have to strangle a boy to get him to do all that. Unless he’s gay? I guess.
One thing that nobody ever mentioned, because it was too obvious was Pedophilia. Okay, you could say we were all kids, but honestly? That ment everybody who was interested from the most precocious 3rd grader all the way up to the most immature freshman, in high school. Partly because girls start a few years earlier than boys and we started it. Actually, I started it with some of the girls I knew, because kissing is something most boys think is “Gross” but if you actually do the math.
We never did it out loud, but I thought about it all the time because my mind really is that dirty, and always was. An 8 year old girl getting molested by a 14 year old boy wasn’t just a possibility, it was inevitable. I could have even written a Prophecy in stone, because I knew how these games were played. I started it, with my friends, and lured my brother in with the temptations, because as Christian as he was, he could only take that many weeks of horny little girls, but Virginia? (Not her real name.)
She got her period in 3rd grade. Peter Johnson wasn’t the biggest dick (Peter, or Johnson) in the 9th grade, but he was still the oldest one in our little humpday club. Because he was too much of a dickless coward to talk to girls his own age, he still hung around with middleschool boys, and their 4th-to-6th grader girlfriends.
So, she seduced him because she could, and he touched her because she let him. She bragged about it later to me, after all the other boys (Except my brother) left, and my parents got home, so she could ask to spend the night. Just her, and me, but she bragged about it.
Her first night, she didn’t beat around the bush, she didn’t even have a bush to beat around. She heard about Hump Day, and on the very first night, she went right for the oldest boy there. Dropped her panties right in front of us, threw them in his face, then ran away giggling. He waited long enough to smell her young cunt on the warm fabric, then he got up and went after her.
She didn’t run far, and when he caught up, she lifted her skirt for him to touch her. Stuffed her panties in his mouth when he gave them back, unzipped his fly, and played with his junk in the back yard until he blew his wad all over her. Then, she wiped it up carefully with her panties, put them back on (Sperm on the outside) and came back in to show me when we were getting ready for bed. Just to prove that she beat a boy off in the back yard while he touched her. She didn’t wash those dirty panties for 2 years until her mom found them, by smell, and washed them for her.
Honestly, it took me a long time to come up with something evil enough to top that, but we masturbated all night together. With the lights on until dad came to knock on the door, and tell us to turn them off. Then in the dark, but even though we couldn’t watch each other, we could still listen, and stay horny all night. She got her first orgasm that way, and I lost count how many times I fingered myself off, it was amazing.
She’s Mrs. Virginia Johnson now, because they stuck together for 5 years until he was old enough to marry her and got a vasectomy so they can’t have kids, and don’t have to worry about hiding their sex lives from them. (Also, honestly Virginia made him get his tubes tied, because he’s the boy that molested her since she was 8, and deep down she doesn’t trust him around other kids, let alone their daughter if they ever had one. She knows what kind of pervert he is, and she loves it, but she’s not stupid.)
They could bring their brothers and sisters, though. They didn’t do anything incestuous, in front of us, but of course they couldn’t follow the “Go home alone” rule, and when they got there. All horny, and excited by the adult things they saw, and talked about… I’m sure we caused a lot of incest, behind closed doors. I thought about that a lot, but of course the only one I could really do it with was my brother, who looked away when I sat on the vibrator with a dildo in my mouth, to show off my cock sucking skills.
There weren’t any Fleshlights to practice your pussy licking skills, but there were plenty of horny girls to dare you to sit on her face. I mean, “Kiss my butt.” Through her panties, but holding a fart for the next time somebody picked Dare, and saying “Kiss my butt” to fart in your face.
The first time a girl pointed at me, and dared me to “Sit on my face,” I knew that ment she wanted to kiss my crotch, and smell my stinking pussy. Through my underwear, we followed that rule pretty good in front of everyone else, but she told me later. Whispering so nobody could hear her but me, she picked me because she knew that I could get off quietly.
They came right off the next time we got the chance. This time she spent the night, (That kinda breaks the “Go home alone” rule, too.) and instead of masturbating in front of each other until lights out. I turned off the light, and jumped into bed with her. Naked, we 69ed, and tried to see who could make the other one cum the most times. Just once, I mean just that one night. Over, and over again all night, but then never again after that.
She was bicurious, and you tried everything until you could think up something even better, or worse to try the next week, but if you somehow haven’t seen mainstream porn from the 90s, let me tell you it’s hard to find one that doesn’t have at least some lesbian, or bisexual action in it. That’s not gay, because guys want to watch it, and jerk off to it. It was gay for me, just for the dirty thrill of having lesbian sex with a girl, 2 doors down from my ultra-Christian parents that probably wouldn’t admit they had sex to each other, they were so repressed.
I’m not going to call myself bisexual, because that’s too limiting. I guess I’m going to have to take a joke from The Corsican Brothers (Or was it Yellowbeard? I forget.) I’m “Trysexual.” I’ll try anything, mud, chickens, anything.
Okay, not chickens, but only because I can’t figure out some way to do it that might be sexy? For a girl, I mean. If a chicken can lay an egg that big, I’m sure she can take a dick, even a pretty big one, but if you want to fuck a chicken, I’ll watch! I have laid an egg before, over and over again, in front of an audience, and got off popping it in and out. I’m not sure whether that’s bestiality, pedophilic, or both?
Everything was so forbidden, for so long as a child that when I started to grow up. I was a klepto before I was a nympho. I played with fire just because I wasn’t supposed to, and I only stopped when my hair got burned, but it wasn’t the fires of hell that scared me. It was because I got teased for having my hair short on one side before it grew back. I didn’t want anyone to think that I was different, or abnormal in any way. Goodness gracious, no!
I was the bad girl, that got off on playing the good girl, but only if I could get away with it. I wasn’t afraid of getting caught, but getting away with it felt so good, it almost became like a fetish? The worst things I could do sexually just made getting away with it even better, and of course the sex is great all by itself. It’s sex, but the only way to make it better for me is doing something much much worse, and getting away with it.
So: “Truth or Dare?”
“Truth.” I’d almost always pick dare, but sometimes I’d pick truth to see what they’d ask.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“Well,” I’d giggle, and pretend to think about it, but I’d always lie. I mean, I’d often say the second worst thing I could think of, but #1?
I sucked my brother off, under the table. This time we got out the Kid’s Table, but it’s called that because it only comes out (Of a closet) when we have so many relatives over, we can’t all sit around the same table. You know, Thanksgiving, 4th of July barbecue picnics, family reunions, the Kid’s Table.
Okay, well it’s a 3′ square, with 4 legs that fold sideways around the corners, and a matching tablecloth grandma Kelly made for it, so it fit. Hung down over their laps, so 4 boys could sit up under the table without any of the other 3 seeing their dick. That would be gay, dontchaknow?
Then 5 girls would crawl under the table to play “Guess who?” Whoever was in the middle would ask, and she could look around to say “Nope, guess again.” The 4 of us had our pick of whoever sat down, it’s supposed to be anonymous, but you can only really tell who’s “It” because she’s the one that says “Guess who,” and “Nope, guess again!”
Even if they guess right, mind you. If they happen to guess right, you still say “Nope, guess again!” So the boys will never know who’s slutty enough to. Do, whatever we want to do to them, that’s the point. Really, we can do whatever we want to do to them, knowing that they never look at us differently, after they find out how freaky we are in bed.
I know, it makes about as much sense as faking orgasms does, if you think about it for 1 second. I of course thought about it all the time, so if you want him to know what turns you on, how to get you off, then at some point you have to tell him what turns you on, and how to get you off.
Faking orgasms just tells them they did it right, when they’re not even close, and you’re just so bored that you want him to stop. Only instead of saying “Stop, that’s not working,” you say his name, and scream “I’m cumming!” at the top of your lungs so they feel satisfied, roll over, and let you go grab a shower. Or a smoke if you do that.
However, that works for me, because the last person I want to know how fucked up perverted I am inside is my brother. Seeing the boy you just stuck a stinky pinky in his butt the next Thursday at school is one thing. I had to live with him, right next door, and face him knowing he’s judging me, the whole time.
So, “Guess who?” was my idea, most of the games were, or at least had my ideas added when we made them up, because it was my idea to use Prayer Meetings to have no adults sex parties in the first place. It actually started with a girl under a blanket, and then in the coat closet, behind the coats. So they could reach out and feel your boobs, then come out, and tell everyone who you thought it was, by the way her boobs feel.
(Or, you know, an excuse for all the boys to feel you up. If you’re really brave, you could beat them off between the coats, one after another, and the last one has no idea how much spooge is all over the raincoats right in front of him!)
I’m a seductress, the greatest evil is corruption because it breeds. It beats out even vilence, because if that keeps escalating, then finally everyone’s dead. Debaucheries like incest just keep making generation after generation each one larger, and more fucked up than the last.
They didn’t have Goaste in the 60s, #2Girls&ACup was trending, mainstream for a little while there.
Honestly, the next best thing to this, the worst thing I’ve ever done is knowing all the sick things other people have done, after they left. After they followed my brother’s stupid rules, because he never thought things through, and he still doesn’t understand how sex works. To this very day, he thinks you can find that 1 thing. You like, that “Special someone” to make your life complete, and it just doesn’t get any better than that.
No, your life doesn’t get any better if you stop looking. You never have group sex if you find that 1 girl that lets you sleep with her once, marry her, and never ask her if she’s even a little bicurious? I swear, he never even considered the idea that people would break his rules when he’s not around, or the first girl he had sex with took him away, so we could have a big lesbian sex toy orgy for the boys while he’s not looking.
So, as soon as I saw his shoes, I got right in front of his chair. Before he even pulled it out, I was ready for him. Knowing he would sit there, because that’s his chair. He won’t even think about it, he’ll just sit down on that side, because that’s where he always sits. He doesn’t own a single pair of shoes I don’t know from the scuffs on the toes, but one thing I’d never seen.
In 13 whole years was his dick. Hard or soft, even sticking up through his pants, because if he even started getting a boner he’d cross his legs, or untuck his shirt to hide it. “Huh!” It was, just a normal dick. Of course, physically he’s just a normal 16 year old boy. Circumcised, pink on the end, little teardrop hole for the piss, and other fluids to come out.
Warm, and a little salty with sweat. Hard, and swelling when I gripped the bottom, to stroke halfway out, make the veins bulge in the sides, and the head swell between my teeth.
“HUH!” He tried to pull back, but he couldn’t with the head locked against my upper teeth.
“Uh, Angela?” starting in alphabetical order.
“No, guess again.” It doesn’t matter how many times he guesses, because the last one he’s ever going to think of is me. The name that’ll never even pop into his head, even while his little head is locked behind her teeth is his little sister. His perfect, innocent, virginal little sister.
“Uh, god.” He tried to cross his legs, but I shook my head, and my teeth sawed gently behind the sensitive tip. Right at the scar from his circumcision. “It hurts, oh god. It HURTS! Uhn!” He hunched, so hard the chair rocked, and hit the floor. Hard, with loud rattles, and he shook the table holding on too. “HUHUHUHUH! FUCK!”
“Ngh, ngh, ngh, ngh!” I just gulped it down, between every spurt, and rubbed the bottom with my tongue, until another hot wad of shameful lust shot off, but Mary. (Not her real name) just kept asking.
“Guess who?” Of course, she’s the one that told me about her giving him the stinky pinky, and he liked it. “Nope,” Spanking him with a hairbrush, and he liked it. “Guess again.” Fucking him with the handle (And a rubber over it so he didn’t get splinters.) He didn’t just like it, he hated it.
Now, getting off in secret, thinking about sucking off the deacon in front of the whole congregation, or climbing up to fuck Jesus on the cross, or even pulling down his loincloth for him to piss in My mouth is one thing, but this?
She was the only one that knew that I was sucking off my brother, even with everyone around, cheering them all on. She’s the one that told me exactly how he loves it, and hates it:
Sex is so dirty for him, it has to be punished. So, he only really gets off if it hurts. It’s not good enough to fuck and then repent later, after you feel guilty about it. Not any more, he has to be punished, when he has sex. While they’re having sex. Sex, and punishment are the exact same thing to him. He’s a hardcore masochist, not really into Bondage, but he loves the discipline.
Instead of trying his hands to the bedposts, she makes him hold onto it. “Don’t let go,” even though he can. Whatever she does to him, he can stop her, overpower her, even beat her to death if he wants to, but he doesn’t. He holds on for dear life, as she tortures him. Cock, and ball torture, chastities, ruined orgasms, nipple clamps, butt plugs, strapons, the whole shebang.
“Huh!” What can I possibly do now, to top that?