Slut at sixteen. Part #1

Rundown –

My name isnt all that important. But if you need to pin one on me, You can call me Hannah. This is a true account and full story of how i got into the sex trade. I say true account but really there have been certain bends in the story to make it more entertaining in the long run, but basically its pretty much all true. I’ve decided to split this story into parts in an attempt to turn it into a novel of sorts and to improve on my writing skills. I welcome criticism and would happily chat about my storys/life with anyone over MSN. However please dont expect naked photo’s or cam chats ect, i’ll happily chat and talk about sex/my life but i’m not whoring myself virtually.
Anyway please enjoy reading.
– Hannah xx


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I remember as a young girl, watching my parents fucking through the crack of the door, the groaning, the yelps of pleasure and the heavy breathing. Of course being so young I had no idea what they were doing. I had no concept of sex at that age. I saw them often through the door. My daddy thrusting over and over and mommy meeting each thrust with a lustful groan; I’d watch night after night fascinated by this midnight ritual. I never asked them about it or inquired into exactly what they were doing. It only happened when I was supposed to be sleeping so I figured I’d be in big trouble for being up so late.

As time passed I grew both in age and curiosity, I noticed the late night moaning dwindle with the years. Mothers yelping ceased and my father stopped thrusting. I had also noticed that during the late nights my father had turned instead groaning over the computer. Again, with age I knew what he was doing. I’d been through primary and secondary school I knew all about masturbation, the penis the vagina etcetera, my curiosity was such that I had pretty much learnt everything there was to know about sex. I mean, even I was at a rate of three orgasms a day myself with or without a male companion; it didn’t matter so long as i got my daily fix. I’d lost my virginity a long time ago at the age of twelve to some loser I never heard of after school. But I’d developed a fetish for older men; I suppose it’d developed after watching my father all those years ago it didn’t faze me though. I know were all different and I wasn’t afraid of expressing my interest to the older man.

My body was pretty well developed for my age at fifteen I could easily pass for eighteen which allowed me to move peacefully through bar security and into clubs with the help of a fake ID. Which of-course led to quick romps with unknown men, I’d always go for the older guys. They seemed easier to succumb to charm. Less likely to fool around and play annoying little chat up games, on top of that it was what I liked. I liked older men full stop. My breasts were pretty big for my age. I was a thirty-four C Cup and sporting some nice wide hips and two long legs to go with them. Along with a long flowing dark brown hairstyle and clear blue eyes, With all of that at my disposal I found it pretty much impossible to not get what I wanted.
By the age of sixteen I’d made a little name for myself. I was an ‘easy pull’ a ‘sure thing’ I wasn’t entirely bothered about it. I met very little of the same crowd during the day than at night. So I was confident enough to walk to streets during the day and not get noticed. However nighttime were a different story. I’d meet complete strangers and within hours or in some cases minuets end up on my hands and knees enduring long orgasms and taking load after load of strangers cum. One of the best experiences I had was with a stranger in my local bar. Just by means of passion I’d ended up in the men’s bathrooms bent over a toilet in a cubical. And of-course being half drunk I just let out every groan, some would say a bad thing to do in my position but I disagree. After several minutes of thrusting and groaning a small queue had formed, and I couldn’t just let all those boys walk away with their hands covering their sudden growth, I had to help them out. It was the Christian thing to do. At least that’s what I told myself. God knows how many cocks forced their way inside me that night. Thinking back about it, it must have been at least ten. I remember getting to the point where I didn’t have to look back to see if there were any more cocks to milk, as soon as one man pulled out another would mount my hips and start over. I gave up to the throws of passion about an hour into entering the club and that was at ten pm that night. I don’t know how long I had been mounted for, it was getting pretty light outside by the time I got out of the club. Although that didn’t count the amount of time I spent spooning the gallons of cum out my underwear. Which had been round my ankles for so long and the time spent drying my legs and taking care of any excess drippage I would encounter during the walk home. I ended up binning the pants in the end; they were just too soaked it was annoying in a way. They were my best pair. Black lace with a little embroidered golden dragon leaping out of the crotch, I’d only ever seen one pair of them. Even to this day I’ve never found another pair like them. My father was furious when I finally got home at eight am. I tried to make it seem like I’d been staying at a friend’s all night. But we both knew it to be a lie. I reeked of smoke. Beer and… A mystery ingredient I think he knew what that was too but for the moment being I had to listen to one of his lectures on kidnapping and how much I could have been next. About an hour into his ranting I just decided to go to bed and walked out. I knew I’d be in for a right yelling at when I awoke but I didn’t care too much. I was tired, my feet were sore and my hips felt like they’d been pelted with rocks and stones. Stupidly I left my street going belongings in my dad’s hands. A really stupid thing to do considering my night time rituals.
My dad wasn’t a particularly good looking man, he wasn’t necessarily unfit or ugly but, the stress of kids had taken its toll, Both visually and mentally. I can’t say I wouldn’t have said no if I had been given the chance to blow him or spread eagle for his pleasure. In fact I had thought about it many times now. I’d leap at the chance. It would be nice to have a well known man enter me for a change. But, What with social pressure and the fact it was one of the major taboo’s I’d repeatedly wipe the idea from my mind and think about something else to get off too.

It was some time later when I came out of my sleep induced coma. Ten to twelve hours at least, my head was thumping from the night before and my body felt like there was still a living entity forcing its way inside me. As an afternoon drifted past, I still wasn’t fully awake. It was about five thirty in the afternoon when my dad came into my room. He didn’t knock like I’d told him too. He just wandered straight in and took a seat on the bed behind me; I was sat in front of him at the time he came in, on the computer. Turning round I glared at him.

‘You didn’t knock, I keep telling you to knock before you come strolling in he-‘
‘Shut up… listen to me, and answer this question. Ok?’

I could tell before he asked me anything this was going to be something bad. Something seedy, I was in trouble, And big trouble at that. He voice was cold and raspy and before I could get a chance to say
anything he shot his question in my direction.

‘You didn’t you stay at a friend’s last night. Did you…’
‘Uhh. Sure I did, I stayed at Becky’s you can ask her if you like.’

There was a long pause. He looked at the floor and then back up to me. I could feel my heart beating, remembering that I’d left my bag with my dad when I got home, time seemed to stop, and in what seemed like an hour later he arose, stood up calmly and started walking the floor.

‘You know I went the pub with some work colleges today, while you were asleep…