's Story

I grew up like a normal pretty Turkish girl, meaning I was popular, and had all kinds of guys interested in me. And, I learned about certain kinds of sex at an early age, the kinds that girls use to keep a guy satisfied, without giving up her virginity. That may not be important in Europe or the US, but in Turkey, men still expect their wives to be virgins on their wedding nights, or at least until they get engaged. So, Turkish girls learn to use their mouths, and their asses, to keep their boyfriends happy, until they do get engaged.

I tasted my first cock when I was 18, pretty early for a Turkish girl, and while having my boyfriend hold my head and fuck my mouth was unpleasant, I knew I'd have to do it if I ever wanted him to marry me. The same thing applied a year later, when I let him fuck me in the ass the first time. Even though it hurt, my friends assured me that the pleasure of having him fuck my pussy, on our wedding night, would make up for it. So, if I loved him, and wanted to be his wife, I'd just have to make those sacrifices for him. It wasn't until I was 22, and about to collect my prize, that I found out my sacrifices had all been for nothing.

Although my mother had talked to me about my period, she'd only given me the basics, meaning I'd bleed a couple of days a month, and how to use pads during those days. She'd never explained that most women bleed a lot, so the few drops I got instead never seemed strange to me. And because the only sex talk we had was to preserve my virginity at all costs, I never knew there was something wrong with me. It was only when I got engaged, to the third guy I'd given the other parts of my body to, that I found out the horrible truth.

Because, now that we were engaged, and because we loved each other so much, there was no reason to wait anymore, was there? So, the day after our engagement party, we decided to have our own celebration, and finally make love like we would for the rest of our lives. But, our celebration was a very painful disaster, because no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't get more than the head of his cock into my pussy. And, even trying to use his fingers, to "pop my cherry" first, didn't work, because it was too tough to pop.

Still, he loved me enough to let me see if a doctor could pop it for us, since he'd heard of women who's cherries were so tough they had to be cut, instead of being popped. He even loved me enough to accept the doctor's diagnosis that we'd never be able to have normal sex, because I had something called MRKH. But, what he didn't love me enough to accept was the fact that my MRKH also meant we could never have kids. You see, MRKH is a rare condition where the inside of a woman's body never finished growing properly.

The outside of my pussy was completely normal, including the clitoris, with all the normal feelings as well. It just stopped though, two inches inside, and got so narrow you couldn't fit a pencil past that point. And, the rest of the internal parts were broken as well, which is why I didn't bleed like other women, and why I could never have kids. Needless to say, that ended our engagement, although it took two more years before I got the guts to tell my parents why. I finally had to, just to get them to stop trying to find me a husband, because they all ran off as soon as they found out I was damaged goods.

It didn't stop me from dating though, at least not for the next few years. I knew there had to be someone out there who would love me just the way I was. Except, there wasn't anyone like that, not anyone who was interested in a long term relationship with a woman like me. Oh, there were plenty of guys out there who enjoyed using my mouth and my asshole as places to dump their sperm. And there were even guys who didn't care that they could never fuck my pussy, or that I couldn't have kids.

But, they were always one or the other, meaning the kids didn't matter if we could fuck, or the fucking didn't matter if could have kids. None of them could accept both problems at the same time, and my relationships were always short lived. So after a while, I just sort of gave up on the whole thing, because it wasn't worth the sacrifice anymore. It really was a sacrifice too, because I still didn't get any pleasure out of the ways they used my body. And without getting the love I so desperately wanted in return, there was no reason to let them keep using me like that.

After that, I didn't date at all, and rejected any attempts guys made to get me to go out with them. I even briefly toyed with the idea of becoming a lesbian, because my problems wouldn't bother them. But, I wanted the love of a man too much to run to the arms of a woman instead. That doesn't mean I turned into a hermit, because I still had friends and relatives I could go out with. I just didn't let anyone get close enough to me to even think about being anything more than friends. And, I filled my lonely nights with fantasies of finding "the one", the man who would love me despite my being broken inside.

The one for whom doing the things I'd done with other men would be a pleasure, not a sacrifice. And the one who would show me pleasures of my own, things I'd never known existed. I knew he was out there somewhere, looking for me, and I knew we'd find each other some day. Just like I knew that somehow I'd recognize him the minute our eyes met. Because, I'd see the same hunger for love in his eyes that I saw in my own every time I looked in the mirror.

I almost missed finding him, because I almost didn't go to the New Years Eve celebration that year. Because when my cousin asked me to go with him, as his date, I thought he had more on his mind than just trying to keep me from sitting home and getting depressed. He's a spoiled kid, from a richer side of the family, and still acts like it, even though he's over 30. He also has a reputation, and goes through women like a monkey goes through bananas. And, because we're only cousins by marriage, I thought he wanted to try and get me drunk and peel me too.

I mean, why else would he drive 2 hours to pick me up, and 2 hours back, unless he expected something in return. But, some voice inside my head told me I needed to accept his invitation anyway, so I endured his self important chatter on the long drive to the city. I didn't find out until later though, that my aunt had talked to his mother to arrange it, because she thought I needed a change of scenery from the small town we lived in. And, just because it had all been arranged, it didn't stop my cousin from making a couple of attempts, it just kept them from being serious ones.

How I found out it was arranged, was because my aunt told me when we got to where the party was. I'd been expecting it to be some wild drunken celebration at one of the hotels in the city. Instead, it was a huge family thing at my cousin's father's house with most of the guests being relatives and their dates. I say most, because a few of the guests were family friends that were invited as well. And one of those guests really stood out, for the simple fact that he was the only person there who wasn't Turkish. It wasn't his looks that made it obvious though, because he was a typical, fairly handsome, middle aged man, and could have come from one of the areas of Turkey that was close to Russia.

It was the way he spoke Turkish, using word combinations that Turks would never use. Like saying 'they', followed by the 'they' form of the verb when saying his wife and kids went to visit family, and he was single for the next week or so. Turks say one or the other, never both at the same time, so he obviously wasn't a Turk. But, other than his grammar mistakes, there was nothing about him that was really special, and I quickly switched back to paying attention to the rest of my cousins and their dates. That is, until he walked over, to join us smokers, and I saw just how special he was.

One of the other smokers knew him, and called out his name as he was walking towards us. And, out of natural habit, I looked up to see who they were talking to, and that's when it happened. Our eyes met, and time stood still, while we stared deep into each other's soul. In that instant, I knew that this was the person I'd been waiting for my whole life. He was 'the one' from all my dreams and fantasies, and we fell in love with each other then and there. He still denies it, saying it wasn't love at first sight for him, just lust.

But, how could it just be lust, when he hadn't even looked at my body yet? And since when does a man still dream about a girl, he met only once, for over a year afterwards if he'd only been attracted by that body? Still, I can't blame him for denying what he felt that night, because I did the same. How could this married man, who was at least 20 years older than me (25 actually) be 'the one'? He wasn't Brad Pitt, and didn't have Adonis's body, and while he was kind of cute, he would never have gotten a second glance from me. So, how could he be my soul mate, the man who I was destined to love, and who would love me in return?

However, while I questioned my heart telling me he was 'the one', I didn't dismiss it completely. Instead, I decided to get to know him better, to find out why I felt that way. What I found was a warm, caring and very intelligent person, with a way of looking at things that was totally different from anyone I'd ever met. And, he seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say about various subjects, and wasn't the least bit uncomfortable with talking to a woman who had a mind of her own. Those are all good things to have in a man, because they mean that you'll get along outside the bed.

But, since my real problem was sex, just talking to him wouldn't answer those questions. The only way to find out if he really was the man of my fantasies would be to make love to him. And, I wasn't sure I could make love to someone that much older than me. As the night went on though, it became easier to think of us in bed together. I mean, he was in better shape than most guys my age, let alone his age. And, the only thing that really made him look old, was the weariness in his eyes. So, by the time midnight rolled around, I was sure that after a few drinks, I'd have no problem at all. Then we'd see whether or not love at first sight really did lead to happiness.

Except, I never got to find out the answer, because nothing happened between us. I kept waiting for him to make a move, but by the time I realized his wedding ring was holding him back, it was too late. I mean, it was obvious to a blind man that he wanted me, the way he looked at me all night. And, it should have been obvious to him that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. Maybe if I had encouraged him somehow, like holding his hand or something, things might have turned out differently. Instead, I got stupid, and waited for a married man to make a move on a single girl 20 years younger than him.

A girl who hadn't even flirted with him, who'd only talked about harmless subjects all night. I still could have saved things, when he came to say his goodbyes to everyone. All I had to do was make my invitation for him to stay more personal than just asking if he'd like to join our group at a bar. Because he thought I was just being nice, and I didn't insist when he said no. I just let the man of my dreams walk away, then spent the rest of the night kicking myself for being such a fool. And, the chances of us finding each other again were next to zero, because I hadn't even told him my name or given him my number.

Finding out his name, and from there his Facebook page, was easy, since a lot of people at the party knew him. But, that information didn't do me any good, because I couldn't contact him that way. I was sure his wife checked who his friends were, and she'd notice any new ones. The same thing went for sending him a private message, even if it was from an account that looked like a guy. If I had his phone number, I might have been able to call him. Then again, what would I say, that I was in love with him, and wanted him to make love to me?

The same went for sending him a message through one of his friends. What could I have them tell him, that would make him want to get in touch with me? And, how would I know which one of his friends would be safe to send such a message with? No, I had no way to contact him, no way to let him know I was his anytime he wanted me. I'd lost my one chance at being truly happy, and all because I didn't take it when I had it. So, the best thing for me to do was get on with my life, and try to forget about him.

During the two years between then and now, I tried to forget about him by losing myself in my work. I also tried dating a couple of older men, since he'd made me think that mature men might be more understanding of my problem. They both ended in disaster though, because they just wanted to use my body the same way the younger guys had. Our "dates" never went past the quickie, and they had no real feelings for me whatsoever. And, the sex we had was the same too, with me getting no pleasure out of it at all. So, I went back to the kind of life I had before that night, and refused all offers to be more than just friends with anyone.

Then, about two months ago, something happened that brought thoughts of the man of my dreams back into my nights. You see, right at the beginning of those two years, when I was looking for ways to contact him, I got this crazy idea. If I could get a job on the military base, I could see him again, and give him the message myself. I passed the English test with flying colors, but there were no openings at the time, and I forgot all about it. Now, two years later, they were calling to see if I was still interested in working there. And, after a quick check on Facebook to see if the love of my life was still there, you bet your ass I wanted that job.

The first time he walked into the BX (what the mini mall where I work is called), my heart jumped with joy, and I gave him a giant smile. But, while he returned that smile, from a distance, there was no light of recognition, and he didn't come over to where I was. When the same thing happened a second time, I began to doubt what I'd seen in his eyes that long ago night. Then, a few days later, I ran into another old friend, and I got my hopes up again. Because, that friend told me they hadn't recognized me either, because I'd changed my hair color and style, and I'd put on some much needed weight.

So, if a friend I'd known for many years didn't recognize me, how could a guy who'd only spent a couple of hours with me do it. He told me the same thing when I came up to him about a week later, when he was eating lunch there. That he remembered me and the time we spent together that New Years Eve. He just hadn't realized it was me that was smiling at him, because I didn't look the same anymore. Another look that had changed, was the one in his eyes when we were chatting. Because, the love I'd felt from him that night wasn't there anymore, just the same looks I got from any guy who thought I was pretty. What did I expect though, that he'd still be in love with a girl who hadn't encouraged him in any way?

To be honest, yes, that was exactly what I'd expected, because that kind of love is never supposed to die unless someone deliberately kills it. That must have been what he'd done, convinced himself that what he'd felt that night wasn't real. But, while I'd tried to forget about him, I'd never denied that he was 'the one'. Because, it was knowing he was out there, and dreaming of us finding each other again, that got me through the cold lonely nights. And now that I'd found him, I wasn't going to let him get away a second time. I was just going to have to prove to him that what we'd both felt had definitely been real, the most real thing in the world.

The problem with that though, was that I'd lost all the advantages I'd had that night. Like his wife being out of town, and more importantly, him still being in love with me. I couldn't do anything about the former, because I had no control over his wife. So, I'd have to do things the hard way, and make him fall in love with me, all over again. And this time when he fell, I was going to make sure he stayed in love with me, for the rest of our lives.

I know I almost sound like a stalker, or one of those crazy women in comedies who think they can force the guy to love them. It's not like that at all, at least not in the sense that I would try to force someone to love me. It's just that my belief in what I felt that night, both myself and from him, is so strong that it borders on certainty. I 'know' I love him, and I 'know' he fell in love with me that night, even if he was no longer in love. And I 'know' he'll fall in love with me again, once he stops fighting his own feelings. But, I'm not going to try and force anything, and I'm not going to put his marriage at risk. I'm just going to do the same things any other woman would do when she finds the man of her dreams.

That is show him all the things I have to offer out of bed, then seduce him to show him the rest of what I have. There were only two problems that I saw, the same problems there always were with me. Because, while I was sure he'd fallen in love with me that night, and that I could get him to fall in love again, I might have been wrong about him being 'the one'. So, there was still a chance that what I had to offer in bed might not be enough to keep him in love with me. And, even if he did give me the love I needed, maybe I would be the one who wasn't happy in bed. I'd still give him everything I had, as long as he really gave me that love. I just hoped he'd also know how to make me enjoy that sex too.

The next time he came to eat there, I told him straight out that I wanted him to eat with me every day. The reason I gave wasn't even a total lie, because I really did like talking to him more than anyone else I knew. The other reason, that it would make guys think I already had a boyfriend, and stop them from flirting with me, was also true. A week later I even told him that he was the closest thing I'd had to a boyfriend in a long time, right before I broke down and told him why. Actually, it took 3 days to tell him exactly why, because I couldn't come right out and say it.

The first day, I got too emotional when telling him that no man would want a woman he couldn't make love to. The second day, I couldn't bring myself to explain what was wrong with me, and just told him to look up MRKH on the Internet. And the third day, I lied to him, when he told me there were other ways to make a man happy in bed, by saying I'd never done them before. I felt I had to, because if I told him I'd tried them, and hadn't liked them, I don't think I could have gotten him to try them with me. But, by claiming that I didn't know how to do them, and begging him to teach me, I got past the barriers I couldn't have otherwise.

The day after he agreed to help me, he surprised me, and got my hopes up that he'd be perfect, by giving me some movies on a disk. Just the fact that he gave them to me was good, because it showed that he wasn't going to back out on his promise to teach me. But the real surprise was the movies themselves, because the sex in them was totally different from the ways I'd always done it. The guys didn't grab the girl's head and try to force their cocks down the girl's throat like always happened to me. Instead, the guys just lay back and let the girls make love to their cocks, with their lips and tongues. And, the guys didn't just let the girls lick them, they also licked the girls, something no one had ever done to me.

It was all soft, slow and very romantic, even the ass fucking movie he'd put in there. I couldn't stop myself from masturbating while I watched them, because how they did it was how I'd always dreamed it would be. My only worry was that what was in the movies wasn't the same as what he planned to teach me. Maybe these were the only movies he could find that showed what he wanted to do, and the how wouldn't be the same. I just prayed that it would be the same, because if it was, I would definitely enjoy it a lot more than what I was used to.