No sexual thoughts or activities involving under-18 years old are mentioned in the story.
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I was born to a well-to-do father and a Gypsy mother in a little village in Romania. They named me Nadya. When I was 4 years old, my parents chose to leave the country and emigrate to the USA. Before moving, Dad already had contacts in America, and he joined a friend importing skins and furs from Eastern Europe. The company was very successful, and 10 years after our arrival to New York, we became rich. Mom busied herself teaching classical European dances, although her real passion was Gypsy style music and dance with colorful long dresses and sensual moves.
I was Mom's daughter: I inherited her skin tone, extrovert Gypsy character, and the love of dancing. I didn't like school, and found every excuse to avoid it and play or watch movies. When I was in junior high, my body began changing. My hips widened, and my breasts filled. As I started senior year, my C-cup bras could hardly contain my still-growing tits. Boys noticed and tried everything to get my attention. I was attracted to a bad guy named Jo. He was notorious for being a leader of a group of 6, and together they rode motorcycles, used marijuana and other drugs I wasn't familiar with, and even stole from stores. He was tall and handsome, and resented his bad publicity. He was older than me and, for some reason, was the only one who ignored me.
For my 18th birthday bash, I invited 10 girls and similar number of boys, including Jo, thinking he wouldn't show up. He did. At one time, he pulled me sideways and blurted, "I thought you didn't like me."
I smiled, "You were wrong."
"Who among the guys at the party is your boyfriend?"
"Nobody. I am free as a bird, and I like it that way."
"I want you to be mine."
"Hey, today is the first time you met me and you already take me for granted?"
"Sooner or later, I usually get what I want. You can leave now, but either now or in the near future you'll be mine."
I was stunned. Yes, I was attracted to Jo, but his confidence I'd go out with him surprised and even scared me. I returned to the party and joined my friends, but his tone of voice and being so sure of himself stayed with me. In the following days, Jo found ample opportunities to corner me, talk to me politely, and even gift me with flowers and chocolate. Three weeks later, I agreed to date him. Every evening, he took me on his motorcycle to the movies or to a bar. He let me taste alcohol and weed, and... I fell for him.
A week after agreeing to be with him, Jo's hands were all over my body, and days later, we had intercourse, which broke my hymen. Initially we had sex in secluded public places like dimly lit park areas, but later, I introduced him to my mother, and we did it in my room. Sex with Jo became an exciting part of each date. His initial gentle handling of my needs gradually turned into rough sex at every position imaginable. Soon he showed his true colors, making me his sub. I was supposed to satisfy him before he would allow me to cum. He was insatiable: Only rarely Jo orgasmed less than 3 times. I learned to like giving him head and swallowing his slimy spunk. He made me beg him to fuck me while declaring that I was his slut. My brain told me the relationship was not healthy, but my body craved his smell, his touch, his abuse, and especially the sexual gratification.
Everything came to a screeching halt when my period didn't arrive on time. I found out I got pregnant and told Jo. He insisted that I'd have an abortion. Mom and Dad were unhappy about it but paid, and I went through a humiliating abortion. A day after the procedure, Jo dumped me saying, "Nadya, if a slut can not ensure she doesn't get pregnant, she is not worth it." And just like that, we stopped seeing each other. For days I cried into my pillow, refused to eat, and go to school. Ten days later Mom persuaded me I needed my high school diploma to advance in life. Though many guys approached me again, asking to date me, I was too bitter and refused.
...
After high school, I started working as a customer service agent for a large insurance company. Since many customers had questions, requests, and complaints, the job required a lot of patience. One day, a pale-looking, middle aged man showed up at our office. I was assigned to answer phone calls, but nobody else was available, so I sat down to talk to him. He refused to register and showed no documents but asked me all kind of theoretical questions. Because of him, I missed my lunch. Despite my anger, I behaved politely for 20 minutes. Then he stood up, smiled at me, and introduced himself as Thomas, one of the company's bosses. He said, "Nadya, this was one of the random tests we do to make sure our customer service employees are nice and helpful. You passed with flying colors. I know you missed your meal because of me. May I invite you to a late lunch on me?"
I grinned, "Thank you, sir. I really am hungry."
We ate lunch at the nearby Panera. We chatted, and he told me he was of Scandinavian origin and came to America as a young boy. I said it was the same for me, though not from Scandinavia. We clicked beautifully, and the short lunch took us an hour and a half. When I realized what the time was I started crying that my supervisor would fire me. Thomas laughed, "Don't worry. You were with me the whole time. I really liked talking to you. May I see you again for dinner or a movie?"
I grinned, "Sir, I liked talking to you, but your offer sounds like you are asking to date me."
"You are right. I am not married, and I hope you do not have a boyfriend."
I hesitated for a couple of minutes and chose to take him on his proposal. I found out Thomas was 10 years my senior and loved music, theater, and photography. He treated me with the utmost respect for 4 months before offering to marry me. He was handsome, a real gentleman, and had a good job. I liked him. We did have sex together, but he was very conservative in his approach. I sucked him a couple of times, but he refused to cum in my mouth, and vaginal sex was always using a missionary style. I assumed it was Thomas's prudish upbringing and hoped that with time this aspect would improve.
...
In the years that followed, sex with Thomas did not change much. His uproach was very conservative, and he refused to consider anything but missionary position and mutual oral sex, but still did not allow himself to climax in my mouth. The first year was the most difficult one. Going from Jo's sex-without-limits to vanilla-Thomas was tough, but with time, I told myself that my husband's attributes surpassed his flaws and sank into a dreary life. I repressed my sex drive, except for the times I used my Jack Rabbit.
Our daughter, Heather, was born when I turned 22. Thomas convinced me to be a stay-at-home Mom and care for our baby. I agreed, and until she started going to school, I was mostly at home. And then, rather than returning to work, I began frequenting the sports center, yoga classes, and a dance school. My body gained about 15 pounds since before my pregnancy, and now, with my exercise routine and stricter diet, I returned to my old 130 pounds. The only difference was that my tits were now bigger, a solid D-cup. I was proud of them. They stayed high on my chest with little sag despite my age, their size, and the fact I nursed Heather for 6 months.
On many occasions, guys both in the health center and on the street tried their luck with me, even when I told them I was happily married. I have to admit that twice I was really tempted, but I chickened at the last moment.
...
Twenty years have passed. Thomas was now 52, I was 42, and Heather was in her sophomore year in college. She grew up and resembled Thomas's family: Her skin was whitish, Scandinavian type. Her face was very pretty, and her body was on the slim side. She was smiley, sociable, and a good student.
We talked often about her relationships, and I realized that even in that regard, she was her father's daughter. Up to now, Heather had 4 boyfriends, and she did have sex with 2 of them. She complained to me guys were perverts and wished her to swallow their cum, be penetrated from behind like a dog, and one even dared to suggest using her anus. When she first told me those stories, I attempted to calm her, telling her that different sex positions and styles were not necessarily bad things. If she had feelings for the boy and trusted him, communication and experimenting were the best ways to find out if the couple had emotional and sexual competence. Her answer was that she didn't love them THAT much. I smiled and said, "Honey, when you find the right one, you may change your mind."
