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Grownup Games

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Mommy said I could go spend the night with a friend, but I had to go back. #Cuck, #PTSD, #Fear

They had a friend over, to play a game, but I didn’t know that. So I screamed, and the bad man pulled up his pants.

“What are you doing home?”

“There was an accident.”

“I’m gonna go.” The bad man had a panty hose on his head, but he took it off on the porch, and I shut the door.

“What did daddy do?”

“Nothing sweety.” Mom pulled the underpants out of his mouth, and grabbed some scissors she left out on the table. She cut something behind the chair, so he could get up, rubbing hands. “Can you handle this?” He ran off down the hall, and slammed a door.

“I thought we’re being robbed,” I already had a long night, “And I was scared.” Then, I thought daddy was in trouble, to sit in the timeout corner.

“No sweety,” she hugged me, and picked me up, with a grunt. “We’re just playing a game.” She sat down on the couch. “My husband, your father.” She shook her head, “John sometimes like to feel jealousy.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really know why, but when he sees me with another man.”

“What were you doing to his willy? Was he having trouble peeing?”

“Not exactly, just.” She put me down, “Listen for a minute.” She rubbed my arms. “The important thing is we love each other very much. So, sometimes we do things.” She stopped again, but I could tell she was thinking of something to say, and I didn’t interrupt again. “That you might not understand.”

I nodded, and hugged her. “I love you mommy. Don’t cry.”

“I know, sweety. I just didn’t want you to see us like that.” I went to bed, and of course had nightmares. Mostly about that man, with his nose squished flat by the panty hose. Chasing me, but every time he caught me, I just woke up.

I had a lot of questions, and my father didn’t want to talk about it. Mom couldn’t put it into words, but I had friends who told me, “Oh, that’s sex.”

“Oh,” the giggled, and I shook my head. “So, mommy is going to have another baby?”

“No, silly.” Older girls, because they might understand what was going on better. “You can’t get pregnant from just a hand job.”

“What it big?”

“What?”

“His wang. Not your father’s, but your mother’s lover.”

“Oh,” I shook my head. She just said WE love each other very much. I didn’t think that included the stranger in our house, but now that made more sense. “About.” I held up my hands, trying to remember, “This big? I only saw it a second, before he put it away, and left.”

“Bigger than your dad’s.”

“I don’t know.” I’d never really seen it, sticking out like that, much less in mom’s hand. So, I couldn’t make the comparison in my head.

“He didn’t have his pants down?” I shook my head, “His dick out?”

“No, just some undies in his mouth.”

“His or her’s?”

“Mommy’s, I think. Huh!” I put my hands up, when I realized, “She wasn’t wearing any underwear?”

“Well, what was she wearing?”

“Um, just her around the house clothes. An apron. I didn’t see what shoes she was wearing, maybe she was barefoot.” I nodded. It makes sense, if she took her underwear off, then she probably took off her shoes first, but I didn’t see them.

“It sounds like a home invasion.” They told each other. The twins, they’re not really real sisters, but the called each other twins, they sure acted like twin sisters, even if they don’t look alike. Sometimes, one starts talking, then the other one finishes, sometimes they say the same thing, at the same time, and sometimes, they both start talking at once. So, you can’t tell what either one was saying.

Like now, it’s hard to tell which one said what, but I was thinking so hard, I could almost smell something burning. Mom was right, I didn’t understand it yet, but the twins sure did. They just had to put their heads together to figure it out.

“Okay, we think that they staged a robbery.”

“We don’t have a stage at home.” I shook my head.

“So, they had an excuse to let him in the house.”

“Without breaking anything.”

“That’s breaking, and entering.” I nodded, sorry to interrupt, but if you just let them talk, you can’t never get a word in edgewise.

“Exactly, then he threatened your mom, so your dad wouldn’t fight back, and then he made her perform sexual favors to let him go.”

“Only, you interrupted them before they got to the good stuff.”

“Well, Jenny’s dad broke a. V.” I forgot the word. “A thing, on a pipe? There’s a handle,” I twisted an imaginary one. “You turn it, like this?”

“A valve?”

“Yeah I think that’s the word, but it broke, and started filling up the house with water on the bottom. So, I had to go home. We’re going to spend the night.”

“So, you weren’t gone very long?”

“Not even an hour.”

“So, I guess we’ll never know how far your mom would have gotten, if you hadn’t come back.”

“They love each other very much. That’s why daddy gets so jealous when he sees her with another man. Does that make their love grow stronger?”

“Uh!” They laughed. “Look, grownups are weird. They get into some pretty kinky stuff, when they’re married to the same man for long enough.”

“Oh,” I nodded. “Does this mean they’re getting a divorce?”

“I don’t know.”

“Probably not, if she’s got another man on the side.”

“Yeah, and he knows about it, and he likes it.”

“So yeah. It’s probably just to make their marriage stronger.”

Or something like that. I don’t remember the whole conversation verbatum, and even if I thought to take notes, in Crayon. There’s no way I could keep up with both of them talking at the same time.

The “Twins,” they were 6th graders, and “Best friends.” Forever. I didn’t understand that neither, until I got invited to their wedding. I just asked them, because I thought 2 girls was better than one, and they way they think. Together, finishing each other’s sentences, and thinking of the exact same thing, at the same time?

I just thought they put their heads together, sometimes they rolled them back and forth, so they could think better. Somehow, Vulcan Mind Meld, or something magical like that. I’m not going to out them, which is why I’m not naming any names, but I just barely learned anything about sex.

Kinky sex, between my mom, my dad, some faceless guy reduced to a bit part. Honestly, I had to do a lot of growing up to understand any of that, but he wasn’t a lover. He was just some dude, dad didn’t know. He didn’t want to know him, he didn’t never want to see him again, he was basically just there to deliver a dick.

I had to piece most of it together, with help, but that changed pretty much everything at school. So, I got pretty popular for a while, because I got to hang out with 6th graders! My class mates, boys and girls all wanted to know what we’re up to on our “Adventures.”

We didn’t have any adventures, we mostly just hung out, they helped me with my homework, and each other with their’s. Made a little money on the side baby sitting me, but as far as the other thing. Either they never did it again, or they were more careful about hiding it, but they went out a lot more. So, maybe they found another couple to play with at their house. I don’t know.

Same thing with the lesbians. None of the other kids I knew even had a concept of sexuality, or what “Gay” ment. They certainly had no idea that the “Twins” were anything more than real good friends, but they talked about sex a lot. Especially masturbation, I guess they were in the experimental stage. Where they tried new things, and compared notes after school. In code, “Playing the fiddle,” and “Flipping the switch.”

Spelunking. That was a funny one, their favorite euphemism was cave exploring, because they knew I had no idea what that word ment, but I don’t think they were even making out. Not really, that head rolling thing was something they did, because they couldn’t kiss right in front of the kids. The young kids, like me, so maybe they waited until I was gone, but they didn’t even hold hands, or touch each other’s legs. Let alone get their hands up each other’s shirts, and out of their bras.

I don’t know, about eleven, give or take a year. Not real developed, real immature, but compared to me. They were taller, and they had something to show for it. I didn’t tell my classmates about the dirty stuff, most of which I didn’t even understand because of the code, but I got the gist of it.

I had other clues, like mom having to take her shoes off, so she could take her panties off, and gag dad. So, I started trying stuff, pretty hit or miss. I wasn’t developed at all, so everything between my legs was set up for going to the bathroom. It was mostly just curiosity, and exploration.

“Spelunking.” I felt around with my fingers, and found a lot of things I didn’t know about. Tiny little flaps, and wrinkles you couldn’t see from the outside. I got a mirror, and squatted. Pulled myself open with my hands around my butt to get a better look inside there. Inner labia, vaginal opening. No clitoris to speak of.

I didn’t even know to look for it. Sure, they said “Flipping the switch,” but that didn’t come with a schematic. I’m skipping a lot, because there’s a lot more to cover, but I sat down on a nail polish bottle.

I don’t remember the brand, but it had a rounded off handle, on the lid. Not unlike an eye dropper, only hard plastic, and long enough to hold, painting your nails. It’s was the twin’s favorite brand, because it was just the right size, and shape for spelunking. They could find the treasure every time with that.

I ran into some resistance, so I sat on it, and I felt it pop. It hurt, and I started bleeding when it came out. I didn’t know what happened, but I couldn’t ask them at school, because it was the next year. I started 3rd grade, so they moved on to middle school, and I had to wait until the next time mom called them to babysit.

The teacher noticed me, sitting funny, fidgeting, and called me over to her desk on lunch. The other boys and girls ran off to the cafeteria, so we could talk, privately. She started out telling me how to sit, a little more modestly. Meaning with my legs together, so the boys couldn’t see my underwear. (Which is silly, because the desks all faced the front, so the only one that could see my underwear under the desk was her.)

Then, touching myself down there. “I can’t help it, it itches.” I had scabs that I couldn’t pick, all the way around the inside, so it was uncomfortable, but it didn’t exactly hurt. It mostly just itched, and I already knew how to sit in a dress. Because mom taught me, but it’s hard to do after you broke your cherry, and it’s still healing. It’s just distracting.

So, then she started asking me questions, beating around the bush, so it was all in code, but she was trying to find out who did this to me. I didn’t want to tell her, that I hurt myself, doing something I definitely shouldn’t have been doing, but she didn’t believe me. So, it was pretty easy to come up with a lie that she would believe.

There was this man, he broke into the house while I was there all alone. He pulled me out of bed, tied me to the chair, made me do things to him, and also touched me, there. In there, I felt something break, and now I’m scabby, so that’s why it itches so bad in there.

I didn’t have to make up a description of the man. I couldn’t get a good look at his face, with it mashed flat under the stocking he had pulled over it, but I did see him with his pants down. So, I gave her a pretty good description of that.

So, it wasn’t too hard to believe, honestly. That’s what she was getting at. It had to be a man, and being a school teacher. I wasn’t the first kid she had to talk to about, something like that. She sent me to the office, the nurse gave me an amateur gyno exam, and gave me some Neosporin so it didn’t get infected. She didn’t put a bandaid on it, but she did have some extra-small tampons. Just in case one of the 5th, or 6th grade girls went Code Red sometime during the day.

The girls got a good laugh, when they came over to watch me that weekend. So, mom, and dad could go out, stay the night at one of their friends house. That’s the way I thought of it, but I finally got a therapist. (Mom, and dad recognized the story immediately, because I honestly hadn’t changed the facts much. I basically just left them out of it.) A real one, sure the twins helped my self esteem, because of that temporary popularity, but that wore off.

I still had nightmares, and they weren’t even erotic ones. Mostly just dad tied to the chair, mom wasn’t there, but He was. Not to mention how the night started, and seeing Jenny’s dad try to save money on a plumber. Getting mad when he fucked it up, and yelling while he fought with the cut-off valve, until it snapped.

I got to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but. She helped me understand some of the psychological aspects of my parent’s relationship, but the main thing was, she didn’t confuse me with Code. She used a lot of big vocabulary words I can’t remember, but she was always patient, and explained them until I finally wrapped me head around the concept. They went to see her separately as a couple, and she couldn’t tell me too much about that. (Confidentiality)

But hypothetically? Sometimes a man (Not your daddy, necessarily) gets to a certain age, where they struggle with feelings of inadequacy, (Impotence) and jealousy. One way that he can try to cope (Without an experienced therapist) is to act it out, in a relatively safe manner, while giving the appearance of danger.

The bondage, and gagging is so he can sit there, and watch. Something he can’t just sit there and watch, without at least trying to say something. Trying to face his fears, and temporarily overcome them, when it turns out perfectly. Unrealistically so, because it’s his fantasy, and he talked his wife (Not necessarily your mother, but a woman very much like her) into it, because he does get so passionate, and she’s relatively lucky.

He’s not a wife-beater.

So, basically they tried aversion therapy, themselves so they didn’t have to talk about his feelings to anyone else, and fucked it up about as bad as Jenny’s dad trying to force a cut-off valve with a pipe-wrench.

;

“Virginia” (gGGm Dom CFNM)

I guess I’ll call myself Virginia since “Chastity” sounds too much like a stripper.

My friend “Leslie,” and her girlfriend “Saffy,” even though I had no idea they were gay. For each other, they just thought I was cool, and they worried about me, because I saw something traumatic that I was too young to understand, but let me make this perfectly clear:

They’re not Child Molesters.

They didn’t even make out, and hold hands in front of me. They were extremely closeted, and “Not in front of the kids.” Especially me, since I was still traumatized, and learning about all this S. E. X. stuff.

They needed my help, but I didn’t understand, at first. I was just so happy that they met a boy! Well, “There’s this boy at school.” We had to wait for mom, and dad’s anniversary, or that weekend, so they could go out together on a romantic getaway, and they got me babysitters to keep me safe.

Well, they invited him over, but “He just wants to watch.” I went through the whole house, and I even got crafty, but I finally got a chance to act out. My fears, my nightmares, and all the childish fantasies I was just starting to make up, about what I might want to do, when I’m old enough.

They weren’t the best role models, but he followed them. Of course, and I set up the teddy cam in the window. She was a nanny cam, to keep an eye on my stuff while I was away at school, just in case somebody wanted to break in. Burglars, mostly. That’s what I was afraid of, but I was also very curious.

Not bi-curious, I still hadn’t heard of that, but just curious in general. I got a glimpse into the kinds of games that adults play, and it was terrifying, but it was too late to look away. I started masturbating, or tried to, and hurt myself before I figured out ways to do it, without causing any more damage.

I still couldn’t get turned on, let alone orgasm, because the lights were off, and nobody was home. I even found the switch, and that didn’t turn them on, but it was getting dark in here. I was mostly alone with my darkest thoughts, they weren’t even dirty any more, but I was starting to make friends with my monster.

He didn’t have a name, he didn’t really have a face, but he had a dick. So, I knew he was a boy. Then, I saw him. Hand up on the window to cover his face, and the girls were “Pretending” to make out. They sure made it convincing, but I just watched the TV, waiting for our guest to arrive.

So, I could open the door, and look down. “You better come in, before somebody sees you, and calls the cops.” he looked around. “We have a neighborhood watch.” I pointed across the street. “The lady across the street probably has them on the phone right now, so you better come up.”

He was hiding in the bushes, but he wasn’t taking a leak. He didn’t even have his pants open, but he was confused. “Really?”

“Yeah? Hurry up! You look so suspicious, so if you’re not coming in, you better take off.”

“Oh, kay?” He finally came around, and up the stairs.

“There you are.” Leslie stood up in the door behind me, then Saffy said “I thought you’d never have the balls.”

“Come on, don’t be shy.”

“Bisexual girls are so hot, huh?”

I pulled out the chair. “You better sit down.”

“What about her?” He still couldn’t figure out what was going on.

“It’s my house, so you better sit down.” I pointed at the chair. “There.”

“Okay, okay, but. What are you doing?”

“Sh, hands to yourself.”

I slapped them, so he pulled them out of his lap.

“Hey, you better.”

“You better listen to me. Sh!” I pointed, and tapped his mouth. “Listen, okay? You have to do what I say, or.” I was about to say leave, but I didn’t want him to leave. “They can’t start the show. Girls?”

“Yeah, we just want you to watch, but we have to make sure we’re safe.”

“You did kinda stalk us.”

“No I’m no;”

“Sh. Listen.” I rolled my eyes, “How did you find My house? Huh? They didn’t give you the address, and tell you to meet them here. Did you?”

“No.”

“Of course not. We never even talked to him once.”

“So, you followed them, at least. Now, hold your hands together. No, not out front, behind you.”

“What are you doing?”

I pulled out the jump rope. My best one, because no matter how much you beat it up, it didn’t get itchy. I think it’s cotton, it smells kinda like cotton.

“You’re not listening.”

“She just told you, we have to make sure you keep your hands to yourself.”

“But.”

“Uh!” I was saving these for later, “If you can’t keep your mouth shut, then open wide.”

“I, mhn?”

“There.” I pulled my fingers out, before he could bite them through my panties, but at least he got some clean ones. “Relax, the show’s about to start, so try to get comfortable.” I giggled. “Make yourself at home.” As Dora would say “Mi casa es su casa.”

“Huh, she’s right.”

“Yeah, we better get started, but are you the good girl?”

“No, I’m the naughty girl.” I stopped, bunching the leg I cut out of my pantie hose just to watch. “Ooh!”

Saffy bent over, so Leslie gave her a playful swat, but i didn’t know what kinds of games they played. When I’m not around. They giggled, and turned around. Switched places, so Leslie could bend over, and Saffy could give her a swat.

Honestly, I played good girl/naughty girl with some of the other girls at school. All we really did was lie, make up stories about bad things we’d done to play spanking, but also fart-face, tickle monster, and tag.

So, I shrugged. “Hold still.” So I could stretch the nylon over his face, but I had a lot to do. The show was mostly for him anyway, but once I got it stretched down to his neck, I sighed, and picked up the clear plastic.

I didn’t have a puppy, but a friend of mine did. Lots, and lots of puppies, so they had to get the mommy dog fixed. I don’t know what was wrong with her, but she stopped acting weird, every once in a while. She went in heat, whatever that means.

They call it The Cone of Shame, but it’s really to keep her from biting the stitches. It’s got a built in collar though.

He’s not a dog, he’s a boy. I know, some girls call boys dogs, but they don’t really mean it. He’s not a pig neither. “NWH!”

“Sh.” I leaned over, and looked to see the girls were back to pretending on the couch. To make him jealous, but he squirmed uncomfortably and tried to cross his legs.

He closed his eyes. “I thought you wanted to watch.” I stuck my hand between his legs. “Oh.” Now they had their legs crossed between them, so they could feel back and forth to each other’s knees. “It’s twisted up, let me just.”

He uncrossed his legs.

“There, that’s better.” I had to use both hands to unbutton his pants, but then the zipper came right down, so I could pulled out his undies, and it pointed straight up.

“So, which one do you like more. Leslie?” He shook his head, “Or Saffy?”

They didn’t even stop making out to look over.

“Huh, well. I know what you’re not supposed to do, but you can’t.” I did it too, but boys do it a different way. I saw it, not the real thing, but they showed each other how to do it, with their pants zipped up. “Like this? You’re not watching. What’s the point of following them, and looking in my windows, if you’re not going to watch? What’s wrong with you? How are girls supposed to know what you want, if you don’t even know what you want? Honestly, it’s not healthy to keep your feelings bottled up. What are you afraid of, they’ll say no? You wouldn’t be following them if you didn’t like them, but this stupid boy bullshit just gets in the way. You’re so afraid to express your feelings, you can’t even talk about the good ones, like Love?”

“APH! NGH SnhHhHhH!”

“Oh, don’t cry. I’m sorry, ugh!” I looked down. “Whatsit, is it sick?” He shook his head. “Then what’s with all the pus. It squirted halfway across your lap, so I must have popped a zit.” I wiped my hand off on his lap, and went around to check it out. Flopping it this way and that to look for something. A blister, or a popped zit, but I couldn’t see anything.

“Huh, I better go wash my hands. Can you watch him, until I get back?”

“Yeah.”

“No problem.” The giggled, and got up, but they had to fix their bras. While I went in the kitchen, to wash off the pus. I don’t want to get an infection. What’s that one? H something, not Herpes, the other one? You can get that from sex, and it can give you cancer.

“Huh!” They’re really spanking each other hard, if I can hear it all the way in the kitchen. I better dry my hands, and let him go.

“That’ll teach you a lesson.”

“You sick fuck!”

“Girls, Watch your language?”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“We better let him go. Just in case she really did call the cops.”

“Uh,” they looked at each other. “Can you fix up his pants?”

“No you fix up his pants.”

“I’ll fix up his pants.” I picked up the scissors, and his eyes went wide. “Here, you cut his hands, and you, take off the Cone of Shame.”

“Okay.”

I needed to get a new jumprope, anyway.

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