But I’d developed a fetish for older men; I suppose it’d developed after watching my father all those years ago it didn’t faze me though.I know were all different and I wasn’t afraid of expressing my interest to the older man.My body was pretty well developed for my age at fifteen I could easily pass for eighteen which allowed me to move peacefully through bar security and into clubs with the help of a fake ID. I was a thirty-four C Cup and sporting some nice wide hips and two long legs to go with them.
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By the age of sixteen I’d made a little name for myself.
I was an ‘easy pull’ a ‘sure thing’ I wasn’t entirely bothered about it.
I met very little of the same crowd during the day than at night.
I remember as a young girl, watching my parents fucking through the crack of the door, the groaning, the yelps of pleasure and the heavy breathing. My daddy thrusting over and over and mommy meeting each thrust with a lustful groan; I’d watch night after night fascinated by this midnight ritual.
Of course being so young I had no idea what they were doing. I never asked them about it or inquired into exactly what they were doing.