Foster nightmare

I grew up in a foster home in the 1970’s were rape and abuse were common place. I even took part in it myself, both willingly and unwillingly.

The 1970’s was a bad time to be a foster child and this is the story of the abuse I witnessed, went through and was forced to take part in as I was growing up.

I was born outside of marriage, and that was a very big deal in those days, unmarried mothers brought shame to their families and were given a choice, get rid of the child or be banished, shut out by your family and the entire community.

My mother being so young at the time was forced to give me up and so I was sent to a foster home way out in the middle of nowhere, it was on a farm and the house was large, the ground was for living and cooking, the first floor was were all the boys slept in the basement, girls slept on the first floor and the older children, who were approaching adulthood, slept on the top floor.

The boys and girls aged between 5 and 14, when boys reached 15 they could live on the top floor until they were 18 and then you were kicked out on your ass.

When girls turned 16 they were shipped off either to work in the factories or the local whore house.
It was home to 10 boys, 10 girls and 4 older boys, girls shared rooms in groups of two, the older boys shared a large attic room and in the basement there were 10 cot beds, like the ones they used in army barracks, all lined up in two rows of 5 beds.

We grew up in horrible conditions, forced to get up at 4am and work on the farm milking cows, collecting eggs, ploughing the fields with hand tools, it was really hard work especially as we were so young.

The girls did the house work, always keeping it in pristine condition, on their hands and knees scrubbing floors with rags, polishing the ornaments, preparing all the food and selling milk and eggs in the local village.

The eldest boys helped run the farm but were always slacking off and forcing us younger boys to do all the really hard and dirty work, while they stood around smoking.

My abuse began when I was 12 but I was aware of it long before then, if girls stepped out of line or didn’t do their jobs to our foster mother and fathers standards, they’d be forced to sleep on the top floor with the older boys, and we all knew what happened up there, any girl sent up to the top floor was gang raped and used by the boys for their own sick pleasure, it didn’t matter how old they were.

Us younger boys would always try to have fun, get up to mischief and we’d get quite rowdy, which our foster parents didn’t like one bit, the teens were the worst for it, because they were going through puberty they got even more out of control, as hormonal teenage boys do.

Our foster mother found a way to get us to go to sleep and to keep us calm throughout the day, by illuminating our sexual thoughts and desires.

At bed time she’d come to each of our beds, slip her hands underneath the sheets and masturbate us until we ejaculated, this happened every single night and she did it to every single boy, she knew it would tire us out and make us fall asleep.

Again in the morning she would do it again as we were waking up, she knew it was the perfect time because all teenage boys wake up in the morning with an erection, she’d jerk us all off again which illuminated our sexual desires and keep us calm all day.

She would never let us jerk ourselves off, she always did it herself to make sure it was done.

When I turned 15 I was allowed to live on the top floor, I was relieved to finally be out of the damp cold basement and no longer have to endure being jerked off twice a day by an old disgusting woman.

While I was living up there a lot of girls were sent up on quite a few occasions, the other boys quickly got on and raped them, but I couldn’t do it, not at first, it was horrible watching the other older boys gang raping girls, little girls as well, I tried to stop them and convince them not to do it but they wouldn’t listen.

They told my foster father that I was refusing to take part in their depraved activities with the girls, so he locked me in the basement cupboard for two whole days without food or water.

When he let me out he beat me with his belt and ordered me to do what I was told.

That night one of the girls was sent up to our floor, her name was Karen and she was 8 years old, I will never forget her because of what I was forced to do to her.

The other boys and my foster father stripped us both naked and ordered me to rape her, I refused and I was punched and beaten, they beat me until I couldn’t take anymore, so I agreed to do it.

I got on top of Karen, she was crying, I whispered to her that I was so sorry for what I was about to do, I hesitated so my foster father hit me with his belt again, then I got on with it.

I remember prying her little legs apart, then forcing my erection between her legs, I had to push so hard and she was screaming, then her virginity gave way and I pushed my erection inside her, I knew what I was doing was horrible and I hated myself for it, but as a 15 year old virgin boy I also liked how it felt and in a way I found myself enjoying the feeling of my erection inside of her tiny body.

She was screaming and crying so I fucked her as quickly as I could so she didn’t have to suffer for longer than necessary, her little pussy was like heaven to my cock, losing my virginity to an 8 year old girl was intensely satisfying, in a sexual way but not in a raping and hurtful way.

I fucked her harder and harder until I came inside her, my foster father dragged me off and examined her pussy to make sure I’d come inside of her, he patted me on the shoulder and called me a good boy before walking out of the room, leaving the other boys to gang rape Karen, I forget they were going to do that and Ii couldn’t bear to watch.

Over the next few months I was forced to rape loads of girls over and over again, but as time went on I no longer needed forcing, it became second nature, I’d been corrupted and I enjoyed raping girls.

I raped so many girls over the next few years, and watched more young boys endure years of abuse at the hands of my foster mother, I was helpless to do anything about it, even the police turned a blind eye because no one cared about bastard children born outside of marriage.

I’m a lot older now and I have a wife and children of my own but I’ll never forget my teenage years for as long as I live.

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