My Best Friend

When I was young (you don’t want to know how young, trust me. All you need to know is my breasts had already reached D cups) my friend found out that his mother was dying very quickly. She only had a few months at that time.

Now, I care for my friends very fiercely. I will do anything for a friend, just to see them smile, and I so loved to see Chris smile! (That’s not his real name of course, but that’s what we’ll call him) He had the kind of smile that lit up people around him, and since I was a fairly sad girl that affected me rather profoundly.

He was in his room, in his closet and crying, he was devastated. I shouldn’t have been there as his father was back at the hospital, but I didn’t care. Chris was hurting and I was going to be there for him! After a lot of coaxing I managed to get him to open his closet door and talk to me for a bit. We chatted about this and that, Transformers and Thundercats mostly, when I finally begged him to smile for me. Of course, he wouldn’t so I told him I would do anything to see him smile.

We all know what that kind of offer is going to lead to, but at the time I thought I was going to end up doing his homework or something. I was right, but there were some other things first.

~

As I said before, I was an early bloomer and I already had D cup breasts. I was actually surprised that his first request was to see my **** because I was so ashamed of them. He immediately tried to back out of his request when he saw that I wasn’t comfortable letting anyone see me, but dammit, I promised and I don’t break promises!

A deep breath and a fierce blush later my shirt and bra are pulled up under my chin and his eyelashes are touching his hairline. I had dark pink nipples then, large, like silver dollars and very pokey lol. After a few minutes he asked if he could touch them (of course) and so there we were, in his bedroom, kneeling on the floor, him kneading my breasts like pizza dough, tugging on my nipples, mostly out of curiosity, but partly to see what I liked. Unfortunately I didn’t like much of it as my breasts were still very sore from the growing. Soon he asked to taste them, then he wanted to see more of me.

I don’t remember getting naked, but I do remember him pulling my knees apart and getting a long eyeful of my slit, asking questions about it, even feeling his breath on my thighs when he leaned in for a closer look. The next thing I knew he was touching my labia and introducing himself to third base. It’s important to note that at this point he stopped asking what he could do, point of fact he never asked again what he could do to me. It’s also important to note that I didn’t object.

All of a sudden he was inside me and pumping awkwardly. I just held him and let him have me that day. Even after he was finished I kept holding him until he finally smiled for me. To this day I do not regret anything about that day.

~

His mother died two weeks later and it did something to him I don’t think I will ever understand. I think it’s most accurate to say he took possession of me. He’s feel me up whenever he wanted, he’d ***** and **** me whenever he could, never so much as asking if I wanted to. I was basically his.

This came to a bit of a head one day when we were all hanging out in his garage, the five of us. Me, Chris, Michael, Tim and his little brother Dan (again, not their real names). He was bragging to them about what he’d done to me, all the while I was blushing and hiding my face. They started asking him what a girl looked like ‘down there’ and he tried to describe it, but floundered. He finally just grabbed my arm and pulled me to the center of the circle and said ‘Show them’.

So I obeyed.

I pulled my pants open and tried to show just my pubic hair but he told me to show them the whole thing. I ******** off my jeans and panties and went to sit down when he told me to take my top off too.

I obeyed.

I lay on the garage floor, holding my knees apart while my 4 best friends stared at my exposed *****.


Before long Michael asked what it felt like. Chris, ever accommodating, told them to go ahead and feel my body. Eight hands exploring me was something I had never even imagined; fingers in my mouth, palms jostling one another for the space to squeeze my breasts, intruding fingers trying to find my vagina between the folds of my labia. It was very intense.

Michael was the first one to ask Chris if he could ‘Stick it in’. I was mortified, but I said nothing. Chris said ‘Go right ahead’ and the first of them started to use me.

I have to admit, I don’t understand how boys/men can just, perform like that in groups. More like packs really, but still I don’t get it. I know about circle jerks, gang bangs, trains, etc and I just can’t understand the appeal for men (I LOVE being the center of them, though!). Nevertheless, there I was, on my back in the garage while Michael ****** me in front of our friends. What I didn’t realize then was that they were no longer ‘our friends’, after that day they were ‘his friends’ and I was essentially property.

Michael took a long time to finish, probably nerves, but before he did Tim raised his hand like we were in class and asked Chris ‘Can I be next?’. I have to admit, those words and that moment are etched into my mind like carved glass. I can hear and see and feel everything as if it were happening right now. My stomach went cold as I realized that they were all going to **** me. More than that, they were all going to keep ******* me like Chris had been.

I wanted to want to say no and put a stop to it, but the fact was, I simply didn’t want to stop them. I loved the attention and the situation of being surrounded and owned like that.

And so, Tim was next, then Dan and then Chris. Then Michael again, then Chris again then Tim again. Dan didn’t get a second turn as we heard Chris’ father pull into the driveway and they all scattered, leaving me to pick up my clothes. I didn’t get them on before the garage door opened and Chris’ father, my softball coach, caught me. No, he never touched me, but he never treated me like the other kids again either.

~

It continued like that for the next four years. They were friends and I was their plaything. I liked to imagine that I was like a mascot! They treated me well, for the most part, defending me from bullies (I was VERY picked on in highschool) and buying me lunch and giving me their jackets when it was cold. But as soon as we were alone, I was almost always summarily ******** and used. They made games out of it. My favorite was hide-and-seek-and-****. It amazed me then that they always found my **** first. Of course now I know it wasn’t accidental, but back then I just couldn’t understand why anyone would be interested in these lumps of fat.

Since all of us but Chris were military brats, we all had plenty of time to ourselves, and Chris’ father spent less and less time at home, so we had all the time in the world. We all grew into our bodies together, I still remember the first time each one of them **********. They freaked out, each one of them.

I remember learning in health class that ***** can survive in the body for up to five days. Al I could think was that I hadn’t been without ***** inside me for literally years. I think you could have lit a match on my cheeks.

Chris was always the ringleader though, and he used me any way he could, whenever he could. As we got older he started letting other boys have me in exchange for favors and such. I wish I could say I minded, but I got a sense of pride mixed with shame whenever I saw something change hands before some guy ****** me.

Chris also was the first man to use my mouth, my ***, my hands, basically everything. Anything he imagined he just did to me, no questions, no permission, no arguments. He made me spread my legs so his dog could lick my ***** while he watched, though he never had his dog **** me. He took polaroid photos using his father’s camera, basically everything he could imagine. His father caught me more than once, I think by the end Chris was getting me caught on purpose.

~

Eventually his dad moved them away. By that time all the others had moved away as well and I was alone. It was devastating, really. I didn’t know what to do, especially since by that time pretty much every boy in school knew what was going on. I was 15 by then and close to suicide from what I understand now is the lack of a dominant hand to guide me, bind me and keep me safe.

I ended up pregnant at least one time that I suspect, but miscarried in my third month. It’s not surprising that it was only the once though, as I had a severe case of cystic fibrosis and uterine tumors. I often wonder if I developed those because of my early activity…

I eventually found a boyfriend (the only guy in school who either didn’t know, or didn’t care), but he couldn’t understand me so that ended pretty quickly.

Not long after that I was raped for the first time. He knew what had gone on before and figured it was his turn. I didn’t want to live like that anymore (at least not with him) and fought back as hard as I could, but he was stronger.

To this day I am very submissive, to the point where I’ll let a Dom cut me if he so chooses (but I am able to draw the line at ********** and yucky bodily fluids, no poop or pus). I learned that he committed suicide not long after moving away. I shudder to think that his having access to me was staving that off, but if so I’m doubly glad I did it!

I still miss Chris from time to time. He was my first Dom. My best friend and basically my trainer. I don’t know who I would be without him today, but given my home life, it’s entirely possible that we saved eachother.

SilkCherie SilkCherie
36-40, F
4 Responses Jan 15, 2013

Cherie, you were so amazingly compassionate with your friend whose mother was dying. Thanks for sharing your story. Those are not easy things to share, I would think. I hope that the understanding of yourself that you have reached has giving you some piece and a sense that it's o.k. to be you

You draw the line at **********, yet you were sexually active at 12? 13? What is the problem if a young man of about that age made his attraction known to you, and was interested in you "showing him the ropes" as it were.You would be a much better tutor than the trial and error of fumbling around with a young woman of about the same age.

The difference is that I'm no longer that age.

A woman my age letting boys that young touch me is WILDLY inappropriate, beyond the point of being morally wrong.

Also, 12, 13 is around the age it stopped, not started.

As I said, I was a very early bloomer.

I hope your Dom treats you like you deserve and enjoy, I hope he makes you feel safe.

We're having problems lately, but for the most part, yes, he does.

Mostly all i do is try to stay alive between seizures...

Its amazing that these things can work out so well. Thanks for your story!