The full story of me and Mr. Davis - Sex Stories

The full story of me and Mr. Davis

Chapter one – My beginning

I now call myself Sarah, and I am about 18 years old. I say I am called Sarah “now” because I spent most of my years bouncing around from foster home to foster home being called another name. That life is behind me, so I needed a new name. My drug addled mother ended up killing herself by accidentally burning our house down when I was a preschooler, as I have been told. All our family information was lost in the house fire, and I was rescued by firemen just before the flames got to the room where I was sleeping. Thank God for firemen.

So, all the information about me, my birth records, and any items my worthless mother had kept, was lost in the fire. I then went through a dozen or so foster families, who tried to keep me. I was a problem child, to say the least. Since my mother was a druggie, I probably was not conceived with the best genes. No one knows who the father was, since he apparently split the scene right after my mother knew she was pregnant. I am sure we lived in squalid conditions when I was young. But there are no surviving photos or evidence of our lives or that she even existed, except for me. I heard she tried to give me away many times when I was an infant and a toddler, but I really don’t know. It doesn’t matter now anyway. I am supposedly an adult and have started my own life, despite my dubious beginning.

I have lived in women’s shelters, vacant buildings, and with street friends. I am a bit unusual for a street ...

... person in the fact that I am a cleanliness nut. I am constantly needing to wash myself, even though I don’t usually have a place to do that. I have learned to use public restrooms, or facilities in stores or businesses that have walk-in traffic. I can wash my hair and entire body in just a few moments in some of those restrooms and can even wash my shirt or pants too if I am lucky. And I know that by current standards, I am an attractive girl. I can tell by the way men look at me that they want me, if only for sex. But the one thing I do not do, is trade my body for a meal or place to stay. I am more clever than that and have talked my way into more free meals or places to crash than any man could….because I am cute.

There are two things that define me as a young woman now. I have a love/hate relationship with pain and I am constantly looking for a Daddy figure to take me in. I guess because my father abandoned me before I was born, and he never gave me a chance to make him love me. I am constantly looking for a substitute Daddy to love me, and I would do anything he wanted. ANYTHING, if I thought he was genuinely interested in me.

My need for validation from a Daddy figure is what ultimately got me kicked out of nearly every foster home. I would slowly try to seduce the father in the family, we’d eventually get caught and I was changed to a different host family. The Foster Care people did not dare reveal my personality quirk to any foster families because it would have ...