Abused
- 3 years ago
- 25
- 0
Abused. free porn video
I never spoke up about it, for several reasons I suppose, but the biggest was that I experienced my first orgasms during these encounters. It made me feel ashamed, like somehow I must’ve secretly wanted it, and if I came forward to another relative, or a teacher they would think I was disgusting for having LIKED what was done to me, so I stayed quiet. When it was just the first man raping me, I tried to avoid him, and sometimes I could do it for weeks at a time, making sure we were never alone together. But eventually he figured out ways, and it seemed there was never a day that I wasn’t at his mercy.
Assaulted is the best word to use for those first few months. I was hit, pinned to the wall or floor, and choked, all to get me to be compliant and let what was inevitably going to happen, happen. Ultimately I gave in. I was vulnerable, powerless, and alone. Nothing I did was going to stop him, but fighting it made him hurt me, and allowing it made him… well, for lack of a better word, gentler. Letting him fuck me in the bed meant I wasn’t on the floor… and letting him slide in meant he wasn’t forcing himself in.. When I think back on it I feel like I was being weak, but then I remember how physically weak I really was, it was just a means of making it through and surviving a difficult situation. It was sometime after I stopped fighting that I had an orgasm with him, and then another, and then I was having them every encounter. I began to almost look forward to when he came to me. I feel sick thinking about it now.
This lasted for multiple years, and through multiple abusers. Some were much older, some weren’t related to me, and some were nearly the same age I was. Sometimes they knew about each other, sometimes they didn’t. But I just let it happen, maybe that’s why they all tried, maybe the first guy told the rest that I wouldn’t fight back, I don’t know, it doesn’t matter anymore.
I don’t know how to explain it to someone who hasn’t been abused like this, but I hated them all to the point where I contemplated trying to kill them, but also, I looked forward to when one would approach me and start undoing his pants. I’d get a rush of fear and anger and it turned me on… I secretly hoped each day that one of them would come into my room and push me onto the bed, sliding their manhood into me. This disgusting anticipation made my orgasms fast and powerful, though I did my best to conceal my pleasure from them.
I was used for sex when no one else was around, like a dirty habit, until one by one, they all lost interest. Some moved, some just didn’t have the time, whatever the reason, I hated them… But having them toss me aside made me hate them more. After years of being the object of sexual desire, I found myself going to THEM, to the ones that were still around, me coming on to them! Trying to get them to fuck me, actually offering my body to them.. which made me hate myself.
I eventually went into therapy and began dating the nicest guy in school, we became sweethearts and after graduation we stayed together. I followed him to the university of his choice, which coincidentally took me far away from my home town, and I have yet to return… We ended up getting married in our sophomore year… I should say we got pregnant, and thus married, but it wasn’t a disaster, we were going to anyways. I never told him about the abuses I survived. I knew he’d ask the question that I always ask myself, “why didn’t you tell someone?.. The authorities!”.. And then I’d have to tell him more details and he’d find me appalling and the life I’d built would be over. I figured I didn’t matter, and to this day he doesn’t know about any of it.
After med school we moved to a big city on the east coast. Lots of hospitals and a high demand for doctors. With the exception of moving into a bigger house when we became pregnant with our third child, we’ve been in the same city ever since. I was now a happy stay at home mother. We had 3 children, the oldest Jacob, the middle Stacy and the youngest Jason. We lived a very pleasant life. Safe neighborhood, good school, nice neighbors. My husband didn’t have the best schedule, working weekends, and constantly on-call, but that was tolerable. My life was going very well, all thoughts of my dark past had but faded away when I again became a victim of rape.
Our kids were all very good, always had been. They all participated in extracurriculars like sports and clubs, until Jacob opted not to. We allowed it, his grades hadn’t suffered, and we figured at his age he was simply more interested in girls than other stuff, and we were right. He was big for his age, very athletic, he was getting a lot of attention from girls. He introduced us to a girlfriend pretty quickly, and they seemed madly in love, for about two months, then I didn’t see her again. My daughter told me that she dumped him for being clingy, I felt terrible for him.
I recommended he join a team again to get his mind off of her, but he refused. He just moped around the house after school while his brother and sister were still in their respective clubs. I gave him space for a bit, then my maternal instincts told me he needed nurturing. At first he resisted, preferring to be alone, but eventually I won him over. We joked around while I got him to help me with house work or cooking dinner. I’d even watch sports on TV with him. I’ve always been close with my boys, we truly have a happy home, but this was the first time I felt like I was friends with one of them.
One afternoon, I was in our room folding laundry. I heard the door open and close, so I knew Jacob was home.
“I’m upstairs!” I called out, as I continued to fold.
I got no reply, he must’ve had a bad day I thought to myself. So I put down the shirt I was folding and was about to head down and check on him when something shoved me hard in the back, causing me to fall forward onto the bed. I tried to push myself up but was met with a weight on my back, I was being held down. I felt my dress being lifted up, my legs then ass exposed and I turned sharply. It took me a moment to grasp what I was seeing. Jacob standing behind me, his left hand pressed against my back, his right hand holding pulling up my dress. He was fully clothed, but had his erect penis sticking out through the opening of his jeans.
“Wha!?.. Jacob! Stop! What are doing!” and tried to push him away, he had no expes and he shoved me on to the bed face first.
“I loved her!” He growled. “I wanted her to be my first! But she didn’t want me!.. She didn’t really love me… but you love me.. And I love you.. I want you to be my first!”
He climbed on top of me, one hand between my shoulders, easily holding me down. His other hand forced my dress up and out of the way, then he slid it along my ass cheeks, squeezing them firmly. I squirmed, but it was useless, I couldn’t even turn to see him. I tried to talk to him, pleading, but he yanked my panties down to my knees with one motion. I felt him positioning himself above me, aligning his hips with mine, I felt the head of his cock taking its spot at the entrance to my snatch. Then a grunt as he thrust in. He proceeded to fuck me, his own mother, while I cried and flailed helplessly under him. He had a large dick, but he took quick short strokes, a virgin, and ended up coming fast, small blessings I guess. Then he got off of me and left.. No threats, or begging or apology, he just left. I heard him walk down the hall, go into his room and close the door. I waited like that for several minutes, face down on the mattress, my son’s cum running out of me. Afraid to move, wondering what he was going to do next. But nothing came.
Eventually I got up and started to clean off. I told myself to call the cops, call my husband.. but I didn’t… I just finished the laundry then went down stairs to start dinner, trembling the whole time. I didn’t see him again until everyone else was already home and seated at the table, then he walked in and sat down. Talked to everyone like normal, even told me how good dinner was, like nothing had happened. I convinced myself that it was some sort of a mistake, he wasn’t being himself, something had driven him to it, and it was an isolated incident. But the next afternoon he had me bent over the kitchen table, his hand around my neck, saying ‘mom, pull down your pants, don’t you love me!?’ while he tightened his grip on my throat. I did it, and he fucked me again.
I still didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t know why this time, but I didn’t. Maybe it was because I couldn’t bare to see my son arrested, or for the world to know my son had raped me. I sort of felt bad for him… I was making excuses again.. But I didn’t tell anyone. He continued to do it. Almost daily I was forced to let him fuck me. I tried wearing clothes that were more difficult to get off, but that just made things more rough, as he had to pull harder, or would simply threaten me and make me undress myself for him. Then one morning, several weeks into this abuse, as I was getting dressed, I picked a skirt instead, nothing too revealing, but easier to pull up, and when I walked out of the closet I stopped, pulled my panties down under the skirt and slid them off, tossing them aside, and I actually thought to myself ‘there, this will be easier.’ And walked out of the room.
When he got home that day I happened to be in the kitchen when he came looking for me. I was wiping a counter top when he approached me from behind and grabbed me, but before he could do anything forcefully, I reached behind and pulled up the skirt, revealing my bare ass. I then spread my legs slightly and waited. He was clearly surprised, he didn’t move for several minutes, until finally I heard him unzip his pants then gently take ahold of my hips and guide himself into me. That was the first time my son made me cum.
For a whole year after that, I waited for him to get home. I never told him that this was permissible, in fact I don’t think I ever spoke at all. I never offered myself to him or initiated anything, but on the occasions that he didn’t try to have me, or didn’t come home before everyone else, I actually felt something along the lines of disappointment. I made it a habit of being somewhere more conducive to sex whenever he would get home, somewhere that would be more comfortable or enjoyable for ME.. We did it in bed, and in the shower, I rode him on the couch and at the dining room table. I was not happy with him, and I never forgave him, but this was a more pleasurable alternative to what he had been doing to me before.
Then he moved out, a day I knew was coming. I never even found out what sparked his behavior with me, it simply came and went. He moved cross country, something that should’ve made me very happy, knowing that he was unable to force himself on to me anymore, and I was. But after several weeks I found myself very mad at him. Every afternoon I found myself masturbating, thinking of him (and occasionally the men from my past). How could he use me and then just toss me aside? I was disgusted with myself again.
After a couple months it got so bad that I invited a delivery driver to come in and fuck me. He was hideous, and I felt horrible, then illicit act gave me some satisfaction, but it wasn’t what I wanted. When Jacob came home to visit I made myself look desirable, created situations where we were alone together, tempting him.. But he never tried, or gave any indication that I had ever been anything more to him that his mother. I was able to suppress my desires, making do with the vanilla love-making of my husband. In fact I thought I was over it until my daughter moved out the next year, and I found myself at home alone with my other son, Jason.
Images of he and I began sneaking into my masturbatory fantasies. I pushed them aside as best I could until eventually they were the ONLY things I saw when I closed my eyes. I started haphazardly ‘flirting’ with my son, it sounds ridiculous and perverse I know. It was nothing overtly sexual (at first), I would just sit next to him at every meal, and I would hug and touch him more than I used to. I wore skirts and no undies when he got home, hoping that somehow he would go through the same mood swing as his brother and just take me. But it never happened. I tried being really close with him, asking about his day, and girls. I used slang and even curse words, trying to seem more like a friend and less like his mother. We were being really friendly, which was nice, but it was obviously not heading down the same path it did with his brother.
I decided to try something less subtle and more risky (and risqué). I waited until I heard him come home, then I got down on my hands and knees in the kitchen and began scrubbing the floors, acting like I’d just spilled something. I pulled my skirt up, making sure my ass and cunt were ‘accidentally’ exposed, not so high that it looked obvious, just careless.
“Hey mom I’m home…” he said as he walked in. I quickly turned to observe his reaction, and by the look on his face, he saw what I was showing, but was trying to play it off. “I’m gonna head upstairs.” He said awkwardly, and he darted out of the room.
Now you’d think that was a failed experiment, but that was only half, first I had to entice him, now I had to see if he was, in fact, enticed. Over the next couple of days I caught him checking me out, like walking into rooms and immediately looking at my ass. But he never made a comment or move. There wasn’t much else I could do, he just wasn’t going take a shot on his mom. I eventually let it go. I still wore skirts and no undies, just in case… but I wasn’t doing anymore setups like with the kitchen. About a week later I walked into his room shortly after he said he was going to do homework, and found him.. Pants at his ankles, cock in his hand, sitting on his bed, facing me.
We were both frozen. I could see his eyes widen, trying to figure out what to say and what to do. In my mind I was thinking the same thing, any mother that’s caught her son jerking off has had to think ‘do I say something or do I just run out of the room?’.. But in my mind I immediately thought something else, ‘here’s your chance’. Before he could react I walked forward pulling up my skirt. I pushed him down on the bed while climbing on top, and straddled him. I guided his cock to my opening and looked at him. There was panic in his eyes, it could’ve still been from being caught masturbating, or it could’ve been from me getting ready to do what I was going to do.. But it didn’t deter me, I wanted this. I sank down on to his smooth prick, ‘God Yes!’ I thought. My hands were on his chest, holding him down, supporting myself, but holding him down, the way his brother, and many before him, had done to me. I fucked him, grinding my hips, thrusting them down on his cock. I fucked him until he came, and then I kept fucking him, I fucked him until I came, this was about getting what I wanted! When I finished I got off, and left, not saying a word and not looking at him.
At dinner I acted like nothing had happened, he was quieter than usual, avoiding eye contact, but he didn’t say anything about it. I thought about it the whole night, I couldn’t sleep. The entire next day I replayed it in my mind, and waited for him to come home. When he did he went strait to his room, but I needed to talk to him. I went up to his room and walked in, I startled him, he was sitting at his desk doing homework and looked up quickly. I suddenly realized that I didn’t know what I wanted to say… ‘Sorry’? ‘Please forgive me’? ‘You better not tell your father!’? All that thinking and I hadn’t planned beyond walking into his room. So I just did the first thing that came to mind. I pulled my shirt up over my head and dropped it, undid my bra and let it fall in the same place. I didn’t bother to check to see if he was watching, I just undressed. I walked to his bed and pulled my pants down, followed by my panties. I then leaned forward, planting my forearms on his mattress and stayed there. He didn’t speak or move for several minutes, finally I had to break the silence.
“Do you want this honey?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at him. He just stared at me, dumbfounded “do you want to fuck mommy, yes or no?” I snapped, he nodded fervently. He jumped to his feet, pulling all his clothes off in just two steps. He stood behind me, unsure of what to do, but he was hard.. He wanted this. “Just grab my waist” I instructed him, sounding gentle and nurturing. He did as he was told. “No take a step forward and push your penis into mommy.” I felt him slide in. “Good… now just..” nothing more needed to be said, he began slamming his meat into me like a horny dog. He lasted longer than I’d have expected, I even managed to squeeze out a small orgasm of my own before he finished and collapsed back into his desk chair.
I stood up and walked over to him, he was breathing heavily. I brushed the hair out of his face and kissed him on the forehead then walked over to the door. I stopped and turned back to him. He was still laying there, stunned, maybe even embarrassed. “Sweetie, come fuck me again when you’re ready, but before your father gets home, ok? And from now on you need to make the move, so be more aggressive, in fact I wouldn’t be opposed to you being really aggressive sometimes, maybe pin me down, or surprise me and stick it in without asking, alright?” He nodded, slightly confused. “OK, I’m going to go work on dinner, see you in a bit.” Then I smiled and walked out, closing the door behind me. -->
Geraldine
- 12.09.2022
- 42
- 0
