I was born in a small town in England in 1975, to a very Christian family. My father was the vicar in a local parish, and my mother stayed at home to look after me, my older sister and younger brother. They were strict, especially as my sister and I grew older and boys started taking an interest in us. We weren't allowed out late, we couldn't drink, and we would be in trouble if they found out we had been meeting with other boys. They said we had to set an example of perfect behaviour to the community, and were ecstatic when my sister got a place to study at university, and met a boyfriend at the Christian Union that they deemed suitable. They were constantly pushing me to use her as a role model, to follow in her steps – to get good grades and get a place at university.
I had turned 18 and was in my last year of college when I met Sam. He was tall, dark haired and muscly, and I found him attractive before we had even spoken. We went on a couple of dates, to see a film, for walks, but he never took me to his house, and I never brought him to mine unless my parents weren't in. He was a few years older than me, was a manual labourer, and wasn't a Christian. They wouldn't have approved.
A few months later I lost my virginity to him. The first time hurt, and he was quite rough, but we continued. I was naïve, but Sam was experienced and I was always horny. As often as I could I would sneak out of school to go and meet him. He had a car so we could drive out of town to places where nobody would catch us. On the way there his rough hand would slide slowly up my skirt, stroking my inner thigh and teasing and exciting me, so when his fingers finally inched up under my knickers and into my pussy, I would be soaking wet and would moan in ecstasy as he fingered my clit. As he slid his finger inside my hot, moist hole, my hand would be on his cock, which would be pressing against his trousers to be let out and sunk inside me.
When we got there we would be in a frenzy to get into the back to start fucking. He would bend me over the back seat and take me from behind, slamming into me while I screamed for more; one hand grabbing my tits and pinching my nipples, while the other would be rubbing my clit. I would come time and time again as his cock drilled into me, and until I could feel him start to throb, pumping cum inside me.
Sometimes when my family was out for a few hours, he would come to the house. He would lie on the bed and made me straddle his long, thick cock and ride him hard, or would fuck my mouth until he came. He would get on top of me, wrap my legs around him and start thrusting, biting hard on my nipples until I screamed.
We were generally quite careful when it came to protection. I wasn't on the pill so we used condoms, but sometimes we were both so horny and desperate to start screwing that condoms were the last thing on our minds. So when I missed my period and a pregnancy test came up positive, although shocked, I wasn't surprised. As soon as Sam found out, I never heard from him again, and it wasn't long before my mother caught on to my morning sickness. When she told my father, I thought he would never speak to me again. They took me out of school before I started showing, and I had to tell my friends that I was moving schools. I was hardly allowed out of the house so nobody would see me and start gossiping.
They were so ashamed of me that they wanted me out. The first time my father spoke to me after he found out was to tell me that he had found me a cottage in village a few miles away, and I was 6 months pregnant when they moved me in. They gave me enough money to live off for the following 6 months; the house they had bought, but I had to pay bills and living expenses. Their parting words were, "You have got yourself into this mess. You now have a house, the rest is up to you. Find a job, don't come to us for money."
The cottage was small but comfortable enough. I was lonely and bored, and as the baby grew bigger, I grew more uncomfortable. I had no friends, my family rarely came to see me, and I never heard from Sam. I spent the days getting ready for the baby. I exercised and ate healthily - I didn't want to end up like my mother after giving birth. At nights, it was always the same. I would kick off the covers and strip when I got too hot, and the cool air would make my nipples instantly stiffen. I would take the nubs between finger and thumb and slowly start to twist and play with them, causing a tingling in my pussy. I would slide my fingers in and out, getting wetter and wetter, playing with my clit before sliding my fingers back in deeply, reaching for my G-spot. Pregnancy had made me more sensitive, and I could come so easily, and until I grew too big, night after night I would lie in my bed masturbating, trying to satisfy my constant need for sex.
My father reluctantly agreed to let my mother come with me to the hospital when I went into labour. I gave birth to a baby boy, and called him Noah, and soon was back at home, lonely and bored. I began to look for jobs, but nobody would have me. I hadn't finished my education, I had no work experience, and I was a young single parent. Money was running out, and although my mother tried to help me out, it was difficult to go behind my father's back so her help was rare.
I adored my son. He was gorgeous, with blue eyes, and his father's brown hair. He rarely cried, he slept a lot so I could too, and was easy to feed. When he needed feeding in the night I would bring him into my bed and he would suck milk from my breasts, relieving them so they were no longer full and leaking. Breastfeeding made me so horny, I loved the sucking, pulling feeling that my nipples were getting when Noah was fed, and when he fell asleep after feeds, several times a day I would find myself in my bedroom with my fingers buried in my slit, humping my hand so I would come and release the pressure built up inside me.
After a couple of weeks, my father finally visited. He nodded at Noah, and left me some books on spiritual guidance. But I still needed to find work, and I was getting desperate. Nobody would employ me, and my father was standing by his word that he would support us no more. He visited a second time, and dropped in a third time unannounced, with Mr Daniels, a friend of his. I think he realised I was lonely, so I guess he brought him along as somebody else I could talk to, who I already knew. I had met Mr Daniels several times while I was growing up, but hadn't seen him since I was about 12. He and my father had known each other as young boys, and while my father was training to become a vicar, Mr Daniels had started his own business in town, but they remained friends throughout their lives.
My father and I were on better terms – or we could hold a conversation at least. He and Mr Daniels settled down in the living room while I brought through drinks, and we talked while Noah lay wriggling on my lap. I think Mr Daniels was the one person who my father could bring himself to tell about me, as they had known each other for so long, and because he did not live in my father's parish. My father didn't really look at me much, but I could feel Mr Daniels eyes on me, and I felt self-conscious in my low cut top and tight jeans, my tits bursting with milk. Although getting my post-baby figure back had not been a problem, I still wished I was wearing slightly more modest clothes so my cleavage was not so exposed.
They left after a while, and as quickly as I could I settled a hungry Noah onto my lap to feed him. As I began to pull out a nipple, I realised that they had been leaking, and there were damp patches over my tits. No wonder my father couldn't look at me, and Mr Daniels couldn't stop staring. I shut my eyes in embarrassment as Noah latched on. He started sucking hard, pulling mouthfuls of milk out of my sore breasts.
As I switched him over, I heard the front door front door open, and I quickly tried to pull Noah off and do my top back up, but as I looked up, Mr Daniels was standing in the doorway, unfazed by what was happening. I pulled my t shirt back down and tried to wrap my cardigan in front of my boobs to hide the damp patches, but he didn't look away.
"I believe I left my wallet here," he said, taking a step towards me. "But don't stop by all means; I don't get embarrassed by the sight of mothers nursing."
