Stolen Innocence - Sex Stories

Stolen Innocence

... to the ground.This is who you are, whether you like it or not. Embrace it and, above all, enjoy it.And so I did since that day, between bouts of pure shame and surprise.

Before then, my body was so young and pure. I had never laid eyes on a naked guy, and I first timidly kissed one only a few years before. Yet, what I lacked in experience, my mind would compensate for with a constant flow of vivid sexual fantasies.

This 'hidden world' hooked me when I stumbled upon an old, erotic book, concealed behind a forgotten stove in my grandmother's garden. The provocative tales within those worn pages were boldly hot, igniting in me an unusually high libido and a sexual curiosity that has never left me since.

I feared real-life sex, as much as I guiltily enjoyed reading about the steamy sexual adventures of that old book's character: a young girl named Lucy. The graphic description of the times she would finger herself or flash her pussy to the shocked village peasants put me in a constant state of arousal.

Why can't I be as daring as she is?! I whined in frustration sometimes.

Without even realizing it, I dreamed of beingexactly like Lucy.

People always joked about how much young boys masturbated because of their raging hormones. Well, I felt like 'one of the guys' too. I secretly took great pleasure in running my fingers over my greedy pussy. Every day, several times a day.

In my inner world, my sexuality was spectacularly exploding in multiple, intense ...

... orgasms. From the outside, during my first few months as a freshman, people would see a young, slender but busty girl walking the halls of college, often in mini dresses and high heels. My face, however, created a stark contrast with my makeup-free delicate features.

At the time, I avoided making eye contact or even interacting with a mundane 'hello.' Some immediately labeled me a frigid, self-important bitch. Others spread rumors, claiming I slept with the entire football team. Yet, no one could have ever guessed what my dirty mind was cooking up, or that my fingers had become adept at exploring their favorite playground.

The funniest thing for me is that no one would have bet a cent on my virginity still being intact.

If it weren't for my choice of clothing and my full, young breasts, bouncing noticeably as I walked, anyone might have thought I was studying to be a nun. My behavior and, paradoxically, also my clothes, served as a mask to cover my insecurities and my extreme shyness in new environments.

I didn’t dress that way to attract attention. Having grown up in a seaside village where most girls wore similar attire, I naively believed it was normal and not at all sexual. Furthermore, I was still uninterested, almost oblivious of my blossoming beauty. Years of wearing braces and enduring mockery and bullying had overshadowed my self-perception.

All of a sudden, the attention I received, instead of pleasing me, made me retreat into my world even further, seeking ...