Charity's Confessions, Part 2

by Charity

You may recall I was about to be ripped to shreds by a mature woman for playing with her grandson. No, more than that, I was in trouble for cumming on his face. The boy, whose name was Peter, had been lying underneath me in a secluded part of a park. I had tortured his cock as I climaxed by the simple expedient of rubbing my wet cunny up and down his face, denying him oxygen as I stroked his erection with a stinging nettle.

He was about 12 and ready to be used. Ready enough to open his shorts and show me his stiffy. The fact I had decided he was the one for me to enjoy was simply because he had given me a long, hungry look as I looked unsuccessfully for a small girl. I was 15 at the time, and boys of his age are always terrified of older girls, and all the while wanting them.

But I wasn't interested in boys as such. I had rubbed my slit on my friend's younger sister's face a week or so before, and that was what I wanted again. But my search for lonely small girls had drawn a blank and so he was a stop-gap. And then his grandmother, Di, came along.

At that moment in my young life I only had a vision of hell ahead. While I might have got away with a few silly young girl games this had moved into the serious category. Two pre-teen girls playing doctors and nurses was excusable. A teen girl suffocating a pre-teen boy wasn't. I had no doubt this big woman would tear me apart, or hand me over to my parents who would without doubt. In those days, when I was younger, kids were spanked. None of this human rights stuff back then. If you did wrong your parents felt entitled to make you bend over and use a slipper on your rear to help educate you.

That, I imagined, was what lay ahead. But I was wrong.

Oh, this woman was furious, but it emerged she was furious not because of the act but because I had done it to her grandson who she was supposed to be looking after. He would make her look bad, she told me. Neglectful and careless. Slowly it dawned on me that she wasn't quite as apoplectic with rage as I might have imagined.

She asked me who I was, and I told her I was called Charity. However I think she misheard because she thought I had said Chastity. I remember her saying, even now, that I hadn't exactly behaved like a girl who understood what chastity meant. I was confused and frightened, and repeated my name. It did the trick. She suddenly calmed and laughed. Oh, Charity, she said. Well, you were very charitable to my grandson.

Then she took my hand but unlike an angry person might, she didn't drag me but instead led me gently towards through the trees and through park. She was talking to me and saying I had to be careful, that not everyone would understand, and did my parents know and had I done it before?

Maybe I was stupid or maybe I couldn't believe my luck, but I answered honestly. I even blurted out about my friend Daisy and her little sister Pearl, as she was the sort of child I was was looking for. The woman listened and nodded and even smiled. Good, she said, and I didn't know why.

She walked with me and listened and asked and I felt a growing confidence in her. She even took me to a small cafe on the edge of the park. It wasn't a particularly nice place but it had clean tables and we were alone. Di bought me an orange juice and a cake and she had a cup of tea and watched me eat and drink. She was studying me, asking things and working out who I was and what I was. I understand now, of course, that she wanted something from me. But as I have grown up wanting things from other people, that didn't trouble me. She wouldn't tell my parents or my teacher or anyone else if I did something for her, she said. Peter wouldn't say anything as he feared his grandmother's anger, but she wasn't angry with me. I could tell she was quite the opposite.

Di was a big woman, in that she had a large bust and big hips, but she had what I believe people call a Rubenesque shape, after the paintings by Rubens who showed women as plump and well-rounded. In time I was to learn that she had given birth at barely sixteen and in turn so had her daughter, so she was a young grandmother. As I may have said, all adults were ancient to me but I came to admire her relative youth and looking back from now, I can see she was indeed quite young at the time for a grandmother. I got an idea that it hadn't been easy for her being a teenage mother, and things only improved when she eventually married someone with money. She had acquired a small car and because at that time women did not drive as much as men, she was unusual in being able to get about freely. That little car was to become important in so many ways.

As we chatted in the cafe, it became clear to me she wanted sex. I had taught myself to look for signs in kids that they wanted fun as I called it and now I began to see that you could see the same signs in adults. They had ways to mask things and used a little more subtlety, but even I could tell that this woman wanted sex with me. If I was in any doubt she rubbed her foot against my leg under the table so I got the message, and then she pretended to 'accidentally' drop a serviette and reached under the table and touched my knee. I suppose it was a final test: if I reacted badly, she would back off. I didn't, and even opened my legs so she could reach up between my thighs. As I had gone to the park originally without knickers on because of what I wanted to do hopefully to a girl, I was naked where it mattered, and she gave me a very big smile when her fingertips brushed my damp and only slightly hairy pussy.

But the cafe, quiet though it was, wasn't the place for anything. She took me to her car and then drove us to what she called a properly quiet place. I had no idea where it was for this was not my side of town and I was putting all my trust in this woman. It could have been dangerous, but I felt relaxed with her.

One thing she made me do though was sit on my hands as we drove. I had no idea why, but I learned later there were always little elements of control in everything she did. In the cafe she had decided what I should drink and eat, and sitting on my hands was another way of controlling me. I have learned, over the years, how many ways people control others. Many are subtle, some are clumsy and a surprising number are sexual in basis if not in result. Di was controlling me, and I was happy. I was, I now realise, about to learn a lot of things so her control was benefitting me.

Plus I was a good looking teenage girl. Not pretty, but good enough to be seen with. Not a little goofy like Daisy was (I can't recall Pearl having the same front teeth, but that's another story) but okay. We drove for half an hour and she parked her car in a narrow country lane, overshadowed by trees. Her place, she called it, and we wouldn't be disturbed.

In the back of the car she had a couple of blankets and she told me to carry them to a spot nearby, well hidden by trees and bushes. I had to spread the blankets down and then lie as her grandson had lain, on my back, looking up. I was told to put my knees up and my skirt of course slid down. My non-knickered crotch was on full view and Di smiled as she looked at me. Then she hitched up her own skirt, slid off her own panties and settled herself on my face in the same way I had done with the boy.

I wasn't shocked, as I saw the thatch of her red pubic hair descend on me, and I knew what to do to please her. Women back then didn't shave their snatches and I had already glimpsed my mother in the bathroom and marvelled at her mass of hair at her crotch. By contrast, I discovered my dad had a small secret collection of what were called 'art' magazines which had black and white photos of women gracefully if unnaturally posed but I remember how odd that they had no pubic hair. I later learned that lower regions were all airbrushed out but it was like women weren't supposed to be natural, or more that these were some strange creatures who weren't quite women. No matter, that was fantasy and this was real. I was staring up at a dense bush of red hair as it descended on my face. I dutifully licked and probed with my tongue, working it through the plentiful hairs and finding a rich, deep taste on her nether lips. As I did that she reached between my raised legs and rubbed me, using her fingers to stimulate me without letting me climax.

In time I learned she was very good at that, and in time I learned it from her. Keeping someone waiting for a climax is an important part of control, and I was ready to learn. In fact, it soon became clear to me that I was being taught some wonderful lessons. The first one though was to do what she said, and I did. If she wriggled on my face I lapped faster, if she held still I went more slowly. I could breathe and I couldn't, if you see what I mean. Sometimes she settled slowly on me, denying me air (and I still had to lick as best I could) and other times she eased up a fraction. It gave me more licking room, as it were, and I could breathe. But I marvelled how well she did this and I thought of poor little Pearl and how clumsy I had been while sat on her face.

I must have licked Di for ages and she teased my cunny and occasionally spoke to me softly, telling me that I was going to make her very happy. I was trapped under her and I have no idea of how long she took to climax, but it was a long time. More than that, she eventually came with her full weight on my face. I was struggling for air as I felt her pussy pulse and throb with the moment, and she even moaned as she did it above it. Quite how I didn't pass out I will never know, but I suspect she knew just the right moment to get off, and I lay there gasping for air, feeling grateful and utterly elated. I had made a mature woman cum with my tongue and mouth and I had almost been suffocated. The thrill that ran through me was incredible.

We lay side by side in the dappled sunlight of that quiet place and talked. I was going to learn, she told me, how to please her and how I could be pleased by others. By women, she said. Males were not going to be central to my life, but females very much were, she said. Young or old females… it wouldn't matter. All pussies need to be worshipped, she laughed. I would, Di told me as she kissed me, discover what it was like to be used so that when I used other females I would know exactly what to do. Using people was only satisfying if you had been used and knew what was required. That way, you knew what to do to get the most pleasure. Equally you could also gauge whether they were worth bothering with. If they didn't please you then why please them? Of course I didn't know it was called S/M then but I understand the term now. You had to be able to switch between the two to understand what worked and what didn't. You gave and you took equally. And as if to demonstrate this, she got some stinging nettles and showed me what it was like to be stung. She sat on my face again (having pushed her nylon panties into my mouth first) and then proceeded to stroke the inside of my open thighs with the stinging nettles. I screamed into my panty gag and into her pussy and she laughed. I could feel the tremble of her laughter though her body, and I began to understand the value of being pleasured while giving pain.

Love, Di later told me, was all about pleasure and pain. It was, she said, always that way. History was full of people who had been given pleasure and also experienced pain. It was as if the two always went hand in hand. Romantics she said (and I barely understood the term back then, though I do now) always went on about how love was pure and uplifting, but in fact it was as equally painful as it was pleasant.

You have to be hurt so you can be really tender, she said. I didn't quite understand it all then but now I do. But like all wisdom it takes time to absorb it. I nodded and said I understood but she just smiled and said I would learn. And she was right.

In many ways I wonder if Di was my first great love. Perhaps, looking back over my life I have either never really been in love or I have loved so many it was impossible to count. I was happy with Di, doing what she wanted, and equally she hurt me. In that way, I loved her and I think she loved me. But the word as such never left our lips, but I suppose the way we were together ought to have told me I was in love. Yes, even when she was hurting me.

And Di hurt me. In her car she would tie me up (I had no idea of the eroticism of being bound, but again I learnt) and she would pinch me or slap me, just as I had pinched and slapped Daisy. She would drive me to the secluded place she knew and tie me to a tree and use me anyway she wanted, including putting one hand over my mouth and pinching my nose closed with her other and all the while telling me I was hers to do with as she pleased. She even peed on me, but her greatest delight was sitting on my face and nearly suffocating me as she came while I sucked and licked and probed. Oh yes, and her bumhole too. I got quite good at getting my narrow tongue up into her velvet tunnel and making her happy.

It tasted unlike anything else but that was important she told me. Doing anything and everything would open doors to better sex. Actually, that was the first time what I was doing was called sex. I thought it was fun, a game, or I thought it was pleasure. Sex was what married men and women did, I had been told. But it wasn't. Sex was doing what gave me pleasure, and even the pain of being spanked or tied and made to do things I began to learn was sex. If it gave you a tingle in your cunny, it was sex.

In those heady weeks of first meeting Di I sucked her nipples and played with her big breasts and worshipped them while she toyed with my small, almost insignificant boobs. I would tell her I wanted to have tits like hers and she would laugh and say while they attracted men they did get in the way. And they had to be upholstered with a big bra, she said, and she resented wearing them but had no choice. But I adored them and would beg her to let me suckle on them, even though she had long since stopped giving milk. I wanted her to give me milk, so I was truly hers. I would masturbate thinking of being wrapped up like a baby in her arms, unable to move and waiting for a milk- dripping nipple to come my way. But though there was being bound up and sucking on her lovely brown nipples, there was no milk.

I also had to worship whatever she gave me. Di wore large nylon panties, as was the fashion then, and she would bring me soiled pairs and stuff them in my mouth, telling me to taste her mess. I did it too, happily, and would sit with her in some quiet place or in her car with my mouth packed with one or two pairs of dirty nylon knickers, while she stroked my hair and rubbed my cunny.

That long, hot summer I was deliriously happy. I was being used and having sex and I wanted more. I would sit, often with hands tied behind me, at her feet at listen and learn and be used. I would kneel to perform duties and she would show me what sex was in all its myriad forms. I was happy, and ready for more.

So what of Daisy and Pearl, you ask? Well, I had Di's permission to carry on seeing my friend. I could not mention Di to them, and equally while I could do what I wanted to the two of them I was under strict instructions to be careful. Di had impressed on me that I had to look for signs that things weren't working, or there was potential danger in the air. Pearl had done what her older sister wanted and not said anything about what we did, but she would cry sometimes over it and Daisy began to tell me she was worried that Pearl would break her word if her parents asked what was upsetting her. She was still young and had little concept of maintaining secrecy, and I began to see there was a danger to us all.

But I tried at first to continue the pleasures. Daisy and I would take Pearl on walks, after they got back from their holiday, and we would find secret places to use the little sister. Pearl would be tied by me and made to lie down (i made sure the places we chose were not likely to be disturbed) and get ready for whatever I chose to do. I let Daisy sit on her sister's face as I liked to do, but she never quite got into it the way I did. We peed on her, but neither my friend or her little brat sister were enjoying it as much as I wanted. I could tell, and it troubled me. When I told Di she suggested that maybe the Daisy and Pearl time was coming to an end. She said that all things do, but the trick was to move on without having regrets. Enjoy it for a time, and then let go. Don't look back. I understood it was time to let Daisy and Pearl go before things got out of hand.

I resolved to not see them as much, though as I had Di all to myself it wasn't a problem. Anyway, I had begun to get tired of Daisy. What magic there had been in my goofy friend's submission was fading. Another lesson from life in that we all change, and Daisy was about to change. She had discovered boys and seemed reluctant to go out on walks with me and Pearl. She was talking about a boy she liked and I sensed that once she began dating him, she would lose interest in pleasing me.

Fate however took a turn to protect me. Daisy and this boy she liked (who struck me as equally goofy as her) ended up playing with Pearl in much the way I had with Daisy. But the little brat spilled the beans about them and Daisy was banned from having boyfriends as well as being forbidden to go out at weekends or after school. The parents watched their kids like hawks from then on. But the benefit was if the child got upset and said her sister and her friend had done some wee-wee on her and named me, apparently the parents thought the small child was getting confused about who did what. They blamed the boy for everything and so I was in the clear.

Di laughed when I told her later what had happened, and she said then that sometimes the powers-that-be looked after certain people in strange ways. I also began to think that these powers, whatever they were, had no problem with sex. It wasn't any morality on our part that made them look after we mere mortals.

But these mythical powers-that-be dealt me a devastating blow. One day I had arranged to meet Di (it was early autumn and the trees were changing colour and the streets were slicked with rain) and I waited on the street corner as usual to be collected by her in her little car. She never turned up, and eventually I went home wondering what had gone wrong. What had gone wrong, I read in the local paper a few days later, was that there had been a car crash and a woman called Di had been involved. Her small car had been hit by a bus at a crossroads and the woman driving had been killed. I frantically tried to find out more but the accident was a mystery to me as I had no way of finding out more. In all this I had never gone to her home and never knew her address or telephone number. I did not even know if her second name was, as the paper said, Jennings. The newspaper story did mention she had a grandson called Peter, so I knew it was her.

I went back to the park where I had first met her, but there was no clue to anything of her and no sign of her grandson Peter. It was all over as suddenly as it began.

Di was gone, Daisy was as good as gone and I was alone. I cried for weeks and my parents didn't understand why, but then I couldn't tell them. My wonderful summer was over and it had ended badly.

But I remembered Di once telling me that you looked ahead and never back. She predicted that there would always, for a sexy girl like me, good things ahead. They just took a little bit of finding. So I dried my tears and went back to my 'normal' life. I even got a boyfriend, though I hated the way he would try to get his hand up my jumper and kiss me when the last thing I wanted was a boy's mouth on mine when I desired a girl's lips of any kind. But having a boyfriend, however clumsy he was in trying to seduce me, stopped people thinking I was some "lezzie" as they called it, and I could cope with the occasional grope in the cinema if it kept the peace. I even learned to wank him off, just to keep him quiet. I put up with it bravely, and even sucked his cock a couple of times so he wouldn't want to fuck me. I hated it but I got used to keeping my thoughts to myself. Moreover I resolved to be even better at having sex with a female whenever that door opened again.

It opened one day when I opened a door at school for Mrs Drury, and unexpectedly life changed again.