Virginia Ryder - Little Courtney_s Family Secrets

My name is Courtney and this is my confession. Sort of. Please don't pass it on. Ever. My therapist advised me to write it so I could judge for myself how my life (and my sex life in particular) was going. She'll never see it, because I'll never tell her about most of it-it's too crazy and perverted.

You can choose to believe it. Or not. It's entirely up to you.

I'm 29-years-old and divorced, a slender but shapely brunette at 5'6” and 119 trim pounds. That's supposedly the ideal weight for my height. I've got a professional job and an ex-husband who's generous when it comes to our children, James, 12, and Lucy, who just turned 10. In addition, I'm a well-respected soccer mom, active in the PTA and a volunteer at several local charities. I dress stylishly and drive a new Volvo station wagon.

I also have sex with both of my children and my own father.

My dad's still a handsome and virile man at 48. I was 9-years-old the first time he fucked me. It was mostly my own idea, though he very much went along with it. By the time I was 11-years-old, and he was a youngish-looking 30, he began taking me to secret swinger parties. It was an incest-friendly group we joined where fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, brothers and sisters, and every other unnatural combination you can imagine got together for dirty fun.

By dirty fun, I mean that we all got bare-assed naked and sucked and fucked each other ragged.

As part of the dirtiest fun at some of these parties, the ones we considered gangbangs, I often personally took on small groups of stiff-dicked men and boys, one after another, in every position possible. I loved being the center of attention. I also loved to fuck. I still do.

My secret sex life, then and now, would scandalize every normal person I know.

Just thinking about incest gets the entire crotch of my pants wet. So does illicit sex in any form. Sometimes I get so insanely excited, I literally can't control myself. In fact, there's nothing you can imagine sexually I haven't tried.

Actually, I got into therapy to learn how to better control my baser urges, which sometimes get me into trouble. I'm not certain it's possible to change, but we'll see how it goes. My therapist always seems so sure of herself.

The truth is, I was the sluttiest girl at James A. Garfield Elementary. Even at that tender age, I was sexually available for anyone who wanted me, students, teachers, or even one of the younger-looking janitors. You'd be surprised at some of the filthy stuff going on in those narrow broom closets, even at an elementary school.

I gave an awful lot of wet blow jobs in there, next to a mop bucket and a shelf filled with cleaning compounds, kneeling in the dark.

Beginning at an early age, I'd masturbate many times a night, making myself come repeatedly until my hand got too tired or I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion. And, of course, as I progressed, I began fucking myself with hot dogs, candles, cucumbers, bananas and anything else I could get up my pussy or-soon after-into my sensitive little butthole with a stolen glob of my mother's KY-jelly.

But my earliest memory of sex was at 8-years-old, humping the top edge of our couch until I got a surprise orgasm that left me sweaty and panting. My 12-year-old babysitter, Maureen, showed me how.

She was exactly the kind of oversexed slut I would eventually become.

When I got older, I learned she was the wildest girl in the 6th grade, instantly willing to drop her pants and spread her legs for anyone that showed an ounce of interest. A couple of years later, she was famous for letting eight or nine guys fuck her in the boys' bathroom during a basketball game. This was right after she drank a bottle of Vodka and cranberry juice they gave her.

“Courtney, do you want to do something that feels good?” she asked me, that first time. “Really good?”

“Okay.”

“It's naughty,” she said. “Can you keep it a secret?”

“I think so,” I told her.

Maureen was always hot-looking, with skin-tight jeans, up-swept auburn hair and adult-looking make-up. She had on a skimpy white halter top that left nothing to the imagination. The fabric was stretched tight over her large uptilted boobs, the bare tops available for the entire world to see. And her nipples were so big and dark they were clearly visible and almost poking right through.

She'd gotten my young attention, that was for sure.

“Why is it naughty?” I asked.

“Because it feels good where you pee,” she said.

“In my pussy?”

Maureen had already taught me that dirty word, and even touched me there several times, through my underpants only. Once or twice she'd rubbed me (and squeezed me) there until it got all wet inside. It made my legs all shaky, too, but she made me promise never to tell.

This time, she put her hand on my back and started rubbing it lightly through my cotton top.

She moved her fingers in a little circle, like she did sometimes when we were alone. Then she moved her hand down, all the way down, to the back of my shorts, and did the same thing. She rubbed my butt in a little circle through the lightweight fabric until it started feeling sort of exciting.

“Do you want to do it?” she asked.

And she gave my butt a real slow squeeze that sent a little shiver through me, right between my legs. When I didn't protest, she slid her hand down inside my shorts, but outside my underpants. Then she squeezed my butt again!

“It'll feel real good,” Maureen promised.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“You have to take off your shoes,” she said. “And your shorts.”

“Okay.”

I kicked off my shoes and she helped me push down my shorts. Then, without asking, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of my blue cotton underpants and pushed them down as well. She pushed them right down to my ankles and made me step out of them.

I was suddenly naked from the waist down! I could feel the air on my bare butt and the backs of my legs and on the little bulge of my bald pussy.

Then Maureen sat on the couch and made me stand right in front of her.

“Spread your legs so I can see,” she told me.

So I spread my feet apart and stood there. And my 12-year-old babysitter took a very good look at the tiny slit between my legs. Then she touched it with her finger, and kept touching it, and touched it even more, until it was all slippery and wet, like those times before when she'd squeezed it.

And the more she touched it, the wetter it got. And the wetter it got, the better it felt, and the more I liked it. In fact, I really liked it.

“Does that feel good?” she asked me.

“Yes!”

With her fingertips, she then traced up and down the pink outer lips of my slit, probing very gently and massaging me (but without pushing a finger in too deep), until those little pink lips in front got real slick and grew even thicker and more sensitive.

Throughout, she paid particular attention to the little protruding part near the top of my slit, my 'little girl clit,' she told me, and that was where the sensations felt so good I nearly asked her to “Stay right there!”

But I was too shy to say it.

She also kept putting her hand between my legs, from underneath, and squeezing my entire pubic area, the small bare mound itself alive with sensation, but pressing her thumb into my 'little girl clit' as well. Which made my legs tremble even more every time she did it.

And then she reached around behind me and cupped my bare ass with both hands, then spread my cheeks apart until I felt wide open back there. And she half-turned me and touched my butthole with her fingertip (which I felt open slightly at her touch), and because her finger was so slippery she pushed it all the way into my butt.