Story Details

Jailbait Cock Saved My Life

Robw00d on Teen Stories

PART I

Up until I was twenty, I hated sex. I never touched myself and the one guy who DID touch me was a serial rapist. Growing up in an all black neighborhood, you can imagine the conditions were quite poor. My father died from a workplace accident when I was seven and my mother isn’t exactly the strongest woman in the world. She suffered from depression and kept trying to drown it out in alcohol to the point where if she wasn’t sleeping, then she was drinking. Remarrying didn’t help, as her new husband enabled her debility. Because momma never resisted anything, my step-dad was able to have his way with her any time he wanted, whether she was conscious or not, whether I was present or not. He didn’t give a damn about me, completely ignoring my existence so long as I never gave him any trouble. That is, until I turned thirteen.

The moment I started growing tits, he began to notice me. I lost my virginity to that asshole and he wasn’t kind about it. Never mind that my body didn’t develop much—my tits never made it above a AA cup and I remained rail thin—and whenever he was done with momma, he would move on to me. I never understood why that fuckwad loved sex so much; it wasn’t anything special.

As you can imagine, I was a pretty fucked up kid. I took to drinking and doing drugs pretty quickly. Given where I lived, those were the only two recreational options we had available. Although I continued on with school (it kept me away from the house, after all) I didn’t put much effort into it—I only did just well enough so that my “parents” wouldn’t have to be called in, as my step-dad used sex as a punishment as well as an outlet for his own greedy lust. It would be so easy to describe him as a monster so I could move on, but the fact of the matter is that he wasn’t an evil man. He was bad, but he was never physically or verbally abusive. Outside of providing food, he never saw momma or me as human beings, just cum dumpsters. Otherwise, he was distant.

One of the perks (if you can call them that) of being in the situation I was in was that no one at home cared what I did outside of school, especially after I graduated. I could spend all day and half of the night “hanging out with friends” so long as I was home in time to be my step-dad’s fuck toy. As you can imagine, I grew up hateful and spiteful, resenting everything there was about life. I never went to church since it was one big joke (God is love my ass!) so it was the morality of the street that guided me, so long as I agreed with it, anyway.

I’m not going to lie: I thought about committing suicide more than once. My life was fucked up, I was well aware of that fact, and I couldn’t see any way out of it. I even knew that I was subjugating myself to momma’s vices as a means of escape and I was determined to not grow up like her. Suicide was the best way to keep that from happening.

I gave the matter great thought. It would be so easy to grab my stash of crack and overdose on it. I considered writing a note, blaming my parents, but my mom wouldn’t be able to comprehend it in her drunken stupor and my step-dad wouldn’t care outside of having one less hole to fuck. The most that would happen is that I would die with no one to miss me.

I set about my preparations. We had a tiny shed in our backyard. It used to hold tools and was too small to fit inside when full, but since it was empty I had a nice little spot to stand up, a tiny shelf to set my supplies on, and best of all, a door to hide what I was about to do. While at home, this is where I did my dirty deeds, as I didn’t want my step-dad knowing the trouble I got into by drinking and lighting up in my room. If he knew he was fucking a crack whore, perhaps he’d get worse; I didn’t know and I didn’t care to find out.

Everything was laid out before me, with a small beam of light illuminating the shed from between two boards of wood that had warped over time, and I thought about what was about to happen. Perhaps, once I died, my body would fall against the door, leaving a dramatic image of a woman whose life ended much too shortly. But since no one would give it a thought one way or another…

As I looked upon my stash, I was actually surprised by how much I actually had; I could’ve sworn it was less. Ah well, it didn’t matter. I gave the materials before me a steady and determined look, but my body refused to move.

Well that was odd. I’ve done this a million times, but on this occasion my body refused to move. I tried my hardest, but my body fought my brain in a battle of wills and was winning. I tried multiple times to no avail; even though I was a pro at this, my body just completely refused to cooperate. What the fuck?! Angrily, I gathered my stuff and placed them back in my backpack. I stormed out of the shed in frustration and as I made my way back to the house, I heard a boy’s voice say, “What’s wrong, Monique?”

I turned to my right and saw the next door neighbor kid. I met him a year ago when his family moved in, when I was nineteen and he was twelve, and I became acquaintances with him. Naturally, I never hung around long enough for us to be friends, but the kid was cute in his own way, especially for a white boy. He was drawing something in the dirt of his yard with a stick when I left the shed, which he had stopped doing to talk to me.

“Nothing,” I answered back. He didn’t know about my troubled past or anything I got into; as far as he knew, I was just some other girl. “There’s this hole in the shed that I want to fix up, but I don’t know how to or even if I can get the stuff to do so.”

“Is that why you’re dressed like that?” I looked down and noticed that his sweat pants were bulging with an erection that was forming as we spoke. It was only THEN I remembered that I was stripped down to my underwear. The kid was getting an eyeful of my body and no doubt wanted to see more.

“Yeah. It’s hot in there and I didn’t want to get my clothes all sweaty.”

“Well, maybe I can help you with your hole,” he replied in his own innocent way.

“No, that’s OK.”

“Come on, Monique. I want to help you.” His erection was standing full and proud now. Was he even aware of it? He wasn’t acknowledging it or trying to cover it up.

Oh! He was hitting on me! How adorable! That’s when a wicked thought passed through my head: Perhaps I should fuck him—give him a good time and show him what black pussy was like. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d done something like this (I didn’t get the crack by paying for it with money!) and if I could be the one in control for the first time in my life, how could I turn down the opportunity?

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted that thirteen-year-old cock. Momma was always oblivious to the world and my step-dad was still at work, so I could even take the white boy to my room to do the deed. Shit, what was his name again? Jeremy? I never bothered to learn it.

Grinning wickedly, I approached him, grabbed him by the dick, and asked, “Is THIS what you’re going to use to plug my hole with?” He looked surprised; probably didn’t think he had a chance with an adult. “Follow me.” I kept my hold on him and lead him into the house and straight to my room. I then closed the door and used my free hand to grab the hem of his shirt. “Let’s see what you have for me,” I said seductively.

I removed his T-shirt and ran my hands along his scrawny chest. “Oooo!” I cooed. “Look at you! So handsome!” I didn’t really believe that, of course; I just wanted him as hard as he could be so I could take full advantage of him. After all, if my step-dad could do it to me, why couldn’t I do it to someone else? “Take your shoes off,” I ordered. He used his feet to make it happen and once they were gone I tugged down his sweat pants as quickly as I could. When he stepped out of them, I looked up and saw a beautiful six inch penis looking at me. I was surprised to see something so big on someone so small, but I wasn’t about to complain! Especially since it looked so delicious! He even had a few hairs growing on his patch and balls—so cute!

I stood up and moved him to the foot of my full sized bed. I pushed him back and he fell upon it, his shaft waving about a bit. I gazed at it with hungry eyes, got on my knees, grabbed it with my hand, and looked into his eyes. “You ready, baby? I’m gonna rock your world!”

I took him into my mouth without waiting for a response. I pumped his cock with my hand while also bouncing my head along it and licking it with my tongue. I looked up at him at one point and saw him gazing down with his eyes glassed over in a horny haze. I inwardly smiled; I was going to have this kid eating right out of the palm of my hand when I was done!

Once he was rock hard, I stripped off my underwear and let him look at my body. His eyes wandered from my tiny tits with their black areolas to my jungle-covered hole. When he was done feasting upon me with his eyes, I climbed up and straddled his waist. Once again I grabbed his dick, this time by the base, and pointed it right at my tunnel. “Am I your first, baby?” He nodded. “Then get ready for the ride of your life!” With that, I used one hand to part my lips and sat on his dick, taking all of him in me on the first plunge.

I gave him a few moments to enjoy the feeling. After that, I rode his cock with wanton abandon. I ground myself on him before placing my hands on his chest and bouncing on his dick. The look in his eyes was adorable. I knew that it was only a matter of minutes before I made him mine! “How is it, baby?” I asked, keeping the talk going. “How do you like the feel of black pussy?” All he could do was moan—so cute! My own fuck toy was almost ready!

I leaned forward and worked him up hotter and faster. I continued to maintain eye contact and moaned a few times, letting him think that he was making me feel good. Then I asked huskily, “Wanna be my boyfriend? If you do everything I say, then I’ll let you cum in me and we can be together! Will you obey me without question? Do you wanna go out with me?”

He still couldn’t speak, but the look in his eyes told me everything I wanted to know. I gave him a quick peck on the lips and continued, “That’s a good boy! Your cock belongs to me now! Only I get to use it! You are mine whenever I want you!”

He sat up and I felt his orgasm shoot through me. He grunted through gritted teeth as he pumped me full of his seed. When he was done, he collapsed on the bed and panted. I started to sit up to get off of him, but to my surprise he wrapped his arms around me and said, “Please don’t go yet.”

I was in shock. Why did he just say that to me? Before I could respond, he brought me back down. Given his height, my tits were right above his face. The next thing I knew he had buried his face in my chest and was kissing it all over.

Then the strangest thing happened: my body began to feel weird. As he rubbed his face against my breasts and kissed them, I felt my boobs begin to tingle and my nipples harden. What the hell was happening? Then, as he rubbed his face against my nipples, jolts of electricity shot throughout my body and my pussy started to get hot—REALLY hot! I didn’t know what these strange new sensations were, but they frightened me! I gently peeled him off of my chest (I wanted to force him down and I don’t know why I didn’t) and said, “You need to go now.”

Concern twisted his face and he asked me worriedly, “Have I done something wrong?”

I got off of him and removed his cock from my nether region. “You need to go now,” I repeated, gazing unfocused at the wall—at ANYTHING but him. “Remember our deal: you do everything I say. I’ll uh…I’ll see you later. Go home now.”

He stood up and, as if on impulse, he quickly shot his head toward me and kissed my cheek. I was numb to it. He then put his clothes back on and left without another word. Once he was out of my room, I sat at the foot of my bed and went over everything in my head, trying to make sense of what happened. The failed intended suicide and the sex I understood just fine; it was my body behaving in a way I had never experienced before that caught me completely by surprise and utterly confused me.

“What the fuck was that shit?” I asked. No answer came forward.




PART II

I was no stranger to sex in all its forms. I’ve had guys play with my body before, but mostly as an afterthought. I’ve also watched a lot of pornos; back when I was smoking weed, fuck videos were my go to source for entertainment. When watching those movies, I saw guys giving as much as they received, but since, you know, it was porn, I always chalked it up to bad acting. This was the first time I had ever had it happen in real life.

It wasn’t until we had sex a few more times that it clicked in my head that I was supposed to be enjoying these bizarre sensations. Later, when I continued to feel them, I concentrated on them and you know what? It DID begin to feel good! Who knew that sex could actually be pleasurable for women? When I embraced these electrical feelings, my boyfriend and I began to have a lot more sex together! And Robert (that was his name) was my boyfriend—not under the conditions that I had established, but as the real deal. I found myself actually caring about him and wanting him to be around me as much as possible.

Robert was the first person to actually give a damn about me. Oh sure I had “friends” who cared as long as I had something for them, but Robert was the first to like me for who I was without asking for anything in return. He wouldn’t even ask for sex—SEX! He would rile me up, but he never took the initiative.

Even though he was becoming more substantial to my life, he was the only thing I changed about it. I continued my drinking and drug use and my body became worse with each passing day, even though I refused to acknowledge it. No, it took Robert to make me question my ways.

“I don’t like how you look,” he said bluntly one day. It wasn’t said out of anger, but concern. That didn’t stop me from going on the defensive.

“Oh, so I’m not attractive? I look ugly to you? You don’t want me no more?” I said with more venom than was necessary.

“I don’t think you look healthy. I thought you were just skinny in the beginning, but you keep getting skinner and skinnier. What’s happening to you?”

This conversation started two months in to our relationship. He was still ignorant of my ways and I wanted to keep him that way. Deep down, I was scared I’d lose him if he knew the truth (not that I was willing to admit it, of course). Even though I had an urge to spill my guts, I continued with my angry front. “If you don’t like me anymore, you can get out of my room and never come back.”

His concern for me deepened. “I’m not saying that,” he replied.

“Fine!” I shouted. “If you’re not going to leave, then I will!”

I moved for the door and when I opened it, I heard Robert say in desperation, “Monique! I love you!”

There was a pain in my heart, as if an arrow had struck through it. Why did he love me? How COULD he love me? No, it must be a lie, I tried to convince myself. I turned on the spot and said to my later regret, “You don’t love me; you just love fucking me.”

I stormed out as he shouted back, “That’s not true!” but I stopped listening. I left the house in a false rage, paying no attention to where I was going. About an hour later, when the cloud in my mind had finally lifted, I found myself sitting on a picnic table in a park with a six pack, some cocaine, cock breath, and a sore cunt with some jizz that had streamed down my leg and dried. Without hesitation, I cracked open the first can and started guzzling the awful-tasting brew down to get the bad taste out of my mouth.

I finished the first can in a matter of seconds and started in on the second when I heard familiar voices off in the distance. I recognized the cocaine dealer immediately and the others must have been a couple of partners. The last voice, however, scared me to death. It was Robert. The dealer and his gang was pressuring him into taking a free sample, which he was turning down, and they were getting more aggressive with each passing second.

My purse rested on the picnic table beside me. I don’t remember ever picking it up, but I’m glad I did. Daddy used to keep a gun in the bedroom when he was alive. After he died, I took it without momma knowing and I’ve held onto it ever since, just in case a deal ever went sour. Without thinking, I opened my purse, grabbed the 9mm gun, and made my way to the voices. I emerged from the tree-lined border of the park and pointed the gun straight at the dealer. “Leave the boy alone!” I shouted.

The dealer looked surprised and pissed. “What the fuck do you care, bitch? My customers are my customers; this business ain’t your concern.”

I flicked off the safety. “The kid said no, so fuck off!”

“You threatening me, ho?” The surprise was gone and his face contorted in anger. “Bitch, have you forgotten who you’re fucking with?”

I wrapped my arm around Robert and began walking backward, my gun hand starting to tremble with anger and fear. “We’re leaving and you’re not going to follow us.”

He pointed a finger at me. “You better start runnin’ and pray I never find you because if I do, I’m gonna rape you, kill you, and then rape you again. Then I’m going to chop your body up and feed you to the dog!”

I needed no further prompting. I ran as fast as I could with my boyfriend in tow. I lost track of everything again and when the cloud lifted once more, we found ourselves on the other side of town. I looked down at my hands; I had been carrying the gun the whole time. My other hand was clutching my purse. My whole body was trembling.

I looked around and spotted a bus stop nearby. I turned to Robert and asked, “Do you have bus money?”

He hesitated. “I have five bucks I got for my birthday; I wanted to get a few sodas with it.”

“Baby please,” I replied in despration. “We need to get home and we’re better off on the bus than we are walking.”

He hesitated again. “All right.” He reached into his jean pocket, pulled out a five dollar bill, and handed it to me.

“Thank you,” I said, and after working a deal with the bus driver when she showed up, he and I took to the middle row, where we were less likely to be seen from the outside. In what felt like an eternity, I was able to calm down and relax. My peace was short lived.

“How long have you been like this?” Robert asked softly, so as not to be heard by others.

“Been like what?” I asked. There’s no way he could know, I tried to convince myself.

“I’ve been chasing after you since you left your house. I saw what you did.”

My heart broke in agony. I couldn’t bear to look at him. “Please don’t leave me,” I begged. “You’re the only good thing I have in my life.”

“I love you, sweetie. I’m not going anywhere.” Hearing him say that was soothing. “But you HAVE to give this life up; it ain’t good for you.”

I hugged him and cried into his neck. “I will, I promise. I love you, too, and I can’t stand to lose you.”

I cried in his arms for the rest of the trip. When we got off the bus, we walked the rest of the way to his house. We couldn’t go to mine; my step-dad would have been home by now and I didn’t want him anywhere near my boyfriend. Robert’s parents were gone for the evening, so I snuck into my room long enough to grab a change of clothes and then we went next door, where I soaked in his tub and he cleaned my body.

It felt good to have his hands run lovingly over my body; having him clean me was almost purifying. We kissed deeply several times and he washed the filth away. When it was time for me to get out, he dried me off and handed me my clothes. I took them, but I didn’t put them on. Instead, I had him follow me to his room, where I put the clothes on his chest of drawers and laid down on his bed. I opened my legs and thrust my pelvis slightly. He took the cue, got naked, and got on top of me. My entrance was so wet, despite the bath, that he was able to slip into me easily. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and then I let him take charge.

He pumped slowly and gazed upon me with erotic love. I enjoyed having his eyes roam my body and his lips tenderly play with my tiny tits. When we started to French kiss again, I grabbed that sexy little ass of his with both hands and held on for dear life. His thrusts steadily quickened and his cock head was touching my insides in all the right places. Over the course of our relationship, we explored each other’s bodies, finding out what the other person liked, and tonight he wasn’t missing a single spot! Even though he was only thirteen, he was able to make me feel like no man ever had.

My pussy clamped down on his cock and I had an orgasm rock my body hard! The vibrations caused him to shoot his load deep inside of me, but we weren’t done yet. He repositioned us so that we were lying on our sides with him behind me and Robert’s dick returned to me. He then reached around and grabbed my boobs with both hands and we began to make love again.

I couldn’t get enough of his shaft; it felt too damn good sawing inside of me as he played with my breasts and kissed my neck. I was helpless under his manipulations; my body, mind, and soul belonged to him. If he was old enough and asked me to marry him, I would say yes in a heartbeat.

We stayed in that position for who knows how long, and when it was over I got my clothes on, made out with him for one last time, and went back home. The first thing I did when I got there was go to the bathroom and take a good look at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t believe what I saw! Staring back at me was a sickly woman, almost skeletal. I thought I looked perfectly normal! How long had I been deluding myself?

And yet he still loved me…he still made love to me. It was time for a change. I needed to take care of myself. I mean, how could I be his woman if I died?




PART III

I got with Robert the next day and told him that I was going to quit cold turkey, since that was the best way to do it, and I would need him by my side because it was going to be rough. I didn’t know what was going to happen to me—we were both scared—but we had the entire weekend before us, which made for a good start. We stayed at my house all weekend; my step-dad had to do overtime at work, which made him too tired at night to fuck me, so he went straight to the bedroom when he got home. Robert and I had my room all to ourselves for two whole days.

It was worse than I expected; I seriously thought I was going to die a few times, but I managed to pull through and, by Sunday night, the worst was over. I stayed away from booze and drugs and even got a job at a fast foot joint. It was initially hard to work there, since there were a couple of potheads on the staff, but they respected my decision to stay clean and never puffed around me. I even started to eat healthier, putting not only meat on my bones but also a little more fat into my tits; I went from a AA cup to an A cup!

Eventually I was able to afford a place of my own. It was low cost housing, so there was plenty wrong with it, but it got me out of my momma’s house and I never had to deal with my step-dad again. I even had some money saved up so that I could move all of my stuff into the apartment! It was only my bedroom, but it was better than nothing! The complex was even close enough so that I was able to keep in contact with my boyfriend every day. He came over often. We fucked a whole lot when he did, but we also did normal couple things, too. Every day I was learning something new about myself, having never given a thought to likes, interests, or hobbies before. It turned out that I’m a big fan of action/adventure movies, comedies, and mysteries. I also had a knack for puzzles, too! Word puzzles, assembly/disassembly puzzles, and even puzzle boxes! Robert loved those especially, since he could hide little surprises inside.

The years passed until my boyfriend was finally eighteen. The day after his birthday we eloped and he moved in with me. He got a job of his own and a few years later we moved into a nicer apartment and had good furniture…especially to fuck on! I had a number of near relapses over time, but my boyfriend (and eventual husband) was always there for me to help me ride it out. I’ve never loved more and I’ve never been loved more. If it hadn’t had been for him, who knows how I would have turned out?

It wasn’t until later in life that I heard about how normal people thought about underage sex and their relationships with older partners. I kept my mouth shut on the matter; it was all perfectly normal to me. I’ve seen both the bad and the good that came from it, but I was never going to publicly dip my foot into that pool.

Later on, we had two kids, a boy and a girl, and we did our best to raise them normally, and I think we’re doing a good job of it. He and I now have better jobs and we work together to bring them up to be good people. They’re currently in middle school and earning average grades, taking an interest in the opposite sex, and just being teenagers. Of course, we caught them in bed together at one point. We didn’t mean to; we had known about their trysts for a little over a year now and had no problem with it whatsoever. The risk of pregnancy was low and they weren’t going to get an STD from it, so we never intervened. After learning that, they continued to be animals in bed together, to the point where Robert and I had to join them (albeit in a separate room) on a number of occasions, they were being so loud.

No, our family isn’t perfectly normal, but we wouldn’t have it any other way, and I don’t regret a single decision about who I married and how we have lived our lives. I love my husband (and his now eight inch cock!) and our children. We are healthy, happy, and well. It’s all I could ever ask for.

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