I grew up in a very poor household, raised by my mother as a single child. I can remember being hungry all the time and never getting what I wanted for Christmas and birthdays. That is until my mother met Patrick Donnelly. Pat was a wealthy man who afforded us all the things we’d never had before. My mother fell in love with him and they married a year later.

Being twenty-two years older than my mother, Pat was actually old enough to be her dad, and old enough to be my grandpa. My mother was far too young and attractive to be with a dirty old man like Pat, but I suppose it was his bank balance that attracted her to him. She was thirty-eight and he was sixty when they married.

I was eighteen when my mother met Patrick, and nineteen when she married him. I was sexually inexperienced at the time, but I always found myself strangely drawn to my stepfather. I never knew my real father so I took to Patrick as though he was my own.

He was nothing special to look at. In fact, he was quite ghastly. He was short and dumpy, with a bushy grey beard, pockmarked nose and a potbelly. But he treated me so well, and he loved to cuddle me and play-wrestle in bed. He would grope my breasts and pinch me between my legs when we wrestled and I’d get a warm tingly feeling in my belly. It was great fun. I would sometimes feel his erection inside his trousers pressing and prodding against my body when we roughhoused. And he loved it when I wrapped my legs around his face and sandwiched his head between my thighs. It wasn’t anything sexual – or at least I didn’t think it was – but I enjoyed it. It felt great and was a real bonding experience.

Back then, the Internet was still in its infancy, so porn was not readily available like it is nowadays. Sex education was a practical lesson, by means of trial and error, limited to chatter on the school playground or a quick feel-up and a bit of tonsil hockey behind the bike sheds or sports hall.

I myself never experimented with boys at school. Being shy and taciturn, I pretty much kept myself to myself and was satisfied to sit on the sidelines, reading books, relying on second-hand information from the other pupils. Plus I grew up in a small, rural town, in a conservative community. It was a very tight-knit and Christian church community, where sexual desire was condemned and rules were rigid about sex before marriage. So, by the time I reached nineteen, I had never even gone as far as kissing a boy.

When my mother married Pat, I was treated to my first sexual experience – hearing them screw every night through the wall of my bedroom.

My mother and stepfather’s bedroom wall ran adjacent to mine, so I could hear everything that went on in their bedroom at night. It sounded like absolute carnage in there at times. I’d hear my mother gasping and groaning, my stepfather grunting and snorting like a pig, the headboard slamming against the wall, the bed squeaking, as the stout little man rutted my mother like she was a piece of meat.

I knew Pat was a real brute in bed, like a wild animal at times, just by the commotion coming from their bedroom during the night. Sometimes it would go on for hours and he would give my mother one hell of a pounding. The loud rhythmic slapping sounds, accompanied by mother’s squeals and shrieks were testament to that. On several occasions, I even heard things being smashed and knocked over, clamouring to the floor. Mum would sometimes beg for mercy and scream for him to slow down. I’d hear her gagging and choking and spluttering. Sometimes he would smack her bottom and demand she call him daddy, until she begged for forgiveness.

But strangely enough, the noises seemed to intrigue and excite me. Being sexually inexperienced, the noises were like listening in on a strange new world, a world I had yet to experience. I would sometimes find myself kneeling by their bedroom wall with my ear against it, listening to the groans of passion and moans of lust emanating from the other side, while caressing the soft peach between my legs.

That’s what I called my vagina back then – the peach.

I sort of knew, deep down, that one day my stepfather would turn his sexual desire towards me. He treated me like a queen, like his little princess, and I sometimes wondered whether he married my mother just to get inside my teenage knickers.

It finally happened six months after Mum and Pat married. Mother came to my room one night, flustered and drunk, to tell me she had to go away for a few days and I was to be left home alone with my stepfather. She told me to do everything he asked and, in return, he’d be gentle with me. I may have been young and naïve, but I was far from daft, and I knew she was telling me to be pliant and give my body willingly to my stepfather in exchange for an easier life.

It was later on that night, while lying on my bed reading a book, wearing nothing but a babydoll nightgown, when I noticed the silhouetted figure standing at my bedroom doorway shrouded in darkness. At first, I couldn’t make out who it was. Though judging by the shortness of the figure and the rotund shape of the body, outlined with a big, bushy beard, I knew it had to be my stepfather.

He stepped into my room, into the light, and I gasped in shock at what I saw. He was naked except for his string vest and shabby white socks, his body covered in a thick mat of wiry grey hair.

“Do you mind if I join you in bed, sweetheart?” he asked kindly.

I was scared shitless, frozen to the spot, yet the thought of my stepfather touching my body appealed to me, made me moist between the legs. I recalled all the times we had wrestled in bed fully clothed, and wondered what it would feel like wrestling naked with him, skin-to-skin, rubbing our sweaty bodies against each other in a frenzy of excitement.

Without waiting for my reply, he joined me on top of the sheets. The bed groaned under his weight when he crawled up on it and started stroking my bare feet and legs. I heard his breathing become heavy and laboured as he caressed my skin.

I gazed up and had an unhindered view of his body. I had never seen so much body hair. His entire body was matted with wiry grey fur. His groin was a tangled bush of grey fuzz with an angry-looking cock, hot and rigid, protruding from its base of coarse pubic hair, standing firm beneath a potbelly that looked like a big balloon. The foreskin was snagged behind the rim of the glans, exposing a plum-shaped bellend that was fatter than the shaft and glistening with moisture.

Sweat trickled down his weatherworn forehead and pockmarked nose. “You ever seen a cock like this before, darling?” he asked, as his hands roved gently over my feet and legs, while his other hand toyed with his cock and balls. He hefted his balls in his palm then rolled his foreskin back and forth over the helmet head, displaying his raw genitalia for my pleasure.

It looked horrific at first. I had never seen anything that looked so mean and nasty. The shaft of his cock was like a spaghetti junction of thick veins. The balls looked like two heavy stones, weighing down the wrinkly sack in which they rested.

“Open your legs,” he demanded, as he clambered between my parted feet and placed his hands on the inside of my thighs and gently pulled them apart. He then lifted the hem of my nightgown up to my waist and gazed down at the peach between my legs. He reached for it and spread my pussy cleft apart with his thumb and forefinger, baring the pink, tender flesh inside.

I held back a whimper, feeling my face flame with embarrassment. Nobody had ever inspected me so intimately before. The fact I was now slimy with arousal between my legs made it all the more humiliating. It was an awkward moment, yet immensely arousing.

I felt a warm glow envelop my body when he pressed a chunky finger to my opening, before sinking it into my wet passage, making me yelp with fear and arousal.

“Ooh, that’s a tight little fuck hole. I reckon you’re a virgin,” he growled, before sliding his bulky finger gently in and out of my maiden snatch, making a soft squelching sound.

He had squirted lube on his finger, so it glided into my tight little hole nice and easy. Then he withdrew his finger and gave me a sharp smack on the hip, making me yelp. “Spread them wider,” he barked.

I spread my legs wide and his head immediately dipped between my legs and sniffed at my crotch. His tongue slithered and snaked up and down the crevice of my teen pussy, tasting me. He grew frenzied and feasted on the peach between my legs, locking his mouth around my entire mound and slurping and sucking at my labia.

His big, bushy beard tickled me all over my sensitive nether region, exciting me further. He probed me with his tongue before snaking it deep into my pussy hole. The feel of his rough tongue grazing over my vaginal walls pushed me to the brink, and I found myself grabbing his head and thrusting my soppy-wet pussy all over his hairy face as I reached climax.

Once my orgasm subsided, he pounced on top of me, bearing his body weight down on me, crushing me with his potbelly. Positioning his bulky body between my legs, I felt his rampant member rubbing up and down my slit, wetting my pussy lips with the slippery pre-cum seeping from its head. His face hovered over mine, his heavy breath on my cheek, his beard tickling my chest.

He poked the head of his cock inside me and pulled it out with a nasty grin on his face then grazed it over my clit. I couldn’t believe I was about to lose my virginity to my stepfather, a guy old enough to be my grandpa, my mother’s husband, the man I saw as my father.

“I wanna see your face when I sink myself balls deep into your tight virgin hole,” he said, before cramming his cock halfway in. My body jerked at the intrusion, and it felt as though an obstacle had halted its progress.

My stepfather pulled out and thrust in again and again, until the obstacle broke and he slammed in all the way with a loud grunt. I shrieked and my body bucked. It felt like he was ripping me open. My tight pussy needed a little more time to adjust to his fat cock, but he was relentless, overexcited.

“Oh, yeah, I bet you can feel that,” he sneered, driving himself forward hard enough to make my head bang against the headboard. “That’s right, take that cock nice and deep. Take it all the way in like a good girl. You’re a good girl keeping me happy while your mother’s away.” He licked my face and started pounding away at my docile body. “Oh, yeah, you can be my regular little fuck toy from now on,” he panted in my ear.

I could feel my pussy loosening up, getting wetter and more slick, but every thrust made me feel raw, and they just kept coming faster and harder all the time. His fat cock was giving my clit just as much stimulation as my insides as it pumped in and out of my body. It was difficult to differentiate between the pain inside and the pleasure outside. The two seemed to be mingling into something highly erotic.

“Give me those legs up here,” he barked, ceasing his thrusting momentarily. He scooted back on the bed, withdrawing just enough to throw my slender legs over his hairy shoulders. Then he leaned forward, bending me in half, and crammed his fat meat back in and fucked me even harder.

The penetration was much deeper this time, and it felt as though he was stabbing his cock right through me. I could feel his heavy balls crashing against my buttocks every time he lunged forward and drilled himself deep inside me.

“Yeeee haaaaa!” he yelled, pistoning his hips hard and fast. “This is what you call a pounding, sweetheart.”

It was painful, yet the position he now had me in seemed to hit a different spot inside my body. It sent sharp, exotic sensations through my belly that bordered on orgasmic. Even though this position was uncomfortable, my pussy kept right on juicing for him, and each time he whispered something dirty my ear, my pussy contracted and clamped down around his fat cock, making my juices ooze from my cunt and trickle down my thighs and into my arse crack.

“Take that cock like a good girl,” he barked. The bed creaked in time with his thrusting and the headboard slammed against the wall as he banged my virgin hole into submission. He was stretching my opening taut, impaling my tender body mercilessly on his chunky meat, showing no mercy as I gasped and yelped beneath him.

It was highly erotic, being treated in such a manner.

He whipped it out of my body and allowed my legs to fall back to the bed. And before I knew it, he was straddling my chest and rubbing his balls against my tits and jerking his cock hard right in front of my face. The head of his cock was angry-red and his string vest was drenched with sweat and sticking to his body as he wanked his cock for all its worth.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart!” I’m gonna dump a load in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

He let out a roar so loud that it made me jump. Spurt after spurt of hot spunk erupted from his cock and speckled and splattered my face. I squealed and flinched as each squirt landed square on my face. I opened my mouth, and one spurt hit the back of my throat, making me cough and gag. He moaned and groaned, his body jerking and thrashing as he milked every last drop of goo from his cock and onto my face.

“Suck it clean,” he panted breathlessly, before shoving his cock between my lips. I choked on the bitter taste of sperm mingled with my puss juice. “Clean it up good,” he demanded, pumping in and out of my mouth. My eyes were pressed against his potbelly, which was rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.

“Whew,” he said, dismounting my body. “Just you wait there. Don’t you dare move or wipe that spunk off your face. I’ll grab my camera.”

I lay on my bed, dazed and confused, sticky semen coating my face, pondering what just occurred and what was in store during the coming days as Pat left the room to fetch a camera. The experience had been so vile, so filthy, so embarrassing that I actually felt liberated in some strange way. I felt like a naughty little slut, and it turned me on.

When Pat returned, he stood at the end of the bed taking pictures of me. I was laying on my back with my legs open and my well-used pussy gaping open on full display. The thick cum that coated my face was now running down my cheeks and hanging from my chin. A harsh shudder would rack my body every few seconds – aftershocks from the harsh pounding my body had just received.

While Pat was taking pictures, he said, “These will be nice snaps for the family album. We’ll call them, ‘the little cum-slut after she lost her virginity to her stepdaddy’.”

I just knew, there and then, that he was right. I was a nineteen-year-old cum-slut in the making.