A Change Of Face - The Prequel - Sex Stories

A Change Of Face - The Prequel

... lived in the Stone Age. Besides, I fully planned on following in my grandfather's footsteps when I grew up and what better place than the big city to get experience helping people? Yeah, I guess my parents weren't the only clueless ones. Of course, my naiveté disappeared not long after I started high school. Some days when I look in the mirror I can still almost make out the girl who left our small town staring back at me, but it was an illusion. She was gone. I knew that. I won't bore you with the gory detail on what happened. Let's just say that the high school I went to had more than enough people who could have used my help. Unfortunately, most of them didn't want it. There was one particular senior boy who took offense at my attempts to help him. I should have backed off. He gave me more than enough warning. I never should have accosted him at that party. He was drunk, but I just knew that given the chance I could help him. Still, that didn't give him the right to do what he did to me. Well, him and his two friends. The threats they made afterward about what they'd do to me if I ever told anyone what happened were unnecessary. I'd learned my lesson that night. You see, up to that moment my life revolved around God and a desire to do his works. They stripped me of that belief along with my innocence. The problem was that without God I was lost. He'd played such an important part in my life up until that moment that nothing could fill the void. Of course, that didn't ...

... stop me from searching. I tried all sorts of things. I drank. I tried drugs. I'd slept with more guys than I cared to think about. In short, I developed a well-earned reputation, none of it positive. It didn't helped. I was pretty messed up when it finally all came to a head. I'd done my best to hide what I'd become from my parents. I succeeded reasonably well for a while, but by the time I hit the summer before my junior year there was no hiding it. Hell, I could barely control it. My parents were at wits end by that point. That's when they decided to send me back to our old town for the summer. I tried refusing to go, but they didn't give me a choice. I didn't see the point. I'd lost contact with all my friends and the last person I wanted to see was my grandfather. Ever since that night at the party I couldn't even think about him without being both guilt ridden and angry. A part of me hated him for making me think God was the answer to everything. A bigger parted hated myself for feeling that way about him. My grandfather wasn't nearly as clueless as my parents. Maybe it was because as a minister he'd seen more of the darker side of life than them. I remember the first hug he tried to give me after I arrived from the airport. I stiffened like a board. That didn't stop him. I tried pushing him away, but that didn't blind me to the compassion, understanding and love that showed in his expression. I hadn't said a word, but I could tell he knew. Maybe not the details, but the ...