INTRODUCTION Mum’s sister had four kids to three different fathers. Our Dad didn’t have much to do with us in our lives, being a ‘carnie’ or ‘showie’ to use the Australian or New Zealand term, he was on the road all time throughout Victoria, and into South Australia, New South Wales, the Australian Capital Territory and Queensland depending where the shows went. He would send money from time to time, but he and Mum weren’t in a relationship and he was far from a responsible parent.
Therefore, at various times growing up in Melbourne’s Western Suburbs raised by our single mother Wayne and I called home a caravan park in Sunshine; Mum’s parents’ house; some crappy old weatherboard housing commission home out near Yarraville that was like an oven in summer and a freezer in winter; another crappy commission home, this time half of a duplex in Altona that I swore was haunted; and a block of high rise housing commission flats in Williamstown. I actually didn’t mind living in the flats — if nothing else there were plenty of other kids to play with and we enjoyed million dollar views of Port Phillip Bay and the Melbourne bilecik escort city skyline, but when Mum met that dork Ross everything changed.
Suddenly Mum was ‘middle class’ living in a nice home in the suburbs with four bedrooms and two bathrooms, two new children, a husband earning a packet and a much better job herself. Unfortunately, Wayne and I were constant reminders to Mum that she had gotten herself knocked up by an itinerant carnival worker as a teenager, and given we both looked more like Dad than her I think she would have liked to banish us to Tasmania or the Northern Territory and forget our existence.
Despite usually not listening to Mum’s advice, this night I did and spent the time I was fixing my finger and toe nails observing young Janine Riley, the pretty little 18-year-old everything I was not. She was polite, friendly and a straight A student at high school. However, my reasons that I observed Janine were not for any that my mother suggested I might want to watch Janine. I watched Janine for the reason that was my greatest secret in life — I was a rug escort bilecik muncher.
To be accurate I wasn’t a total lesbian, I had been with plenty of guys. I had jerked off their dicks until they came all over my hands, I had sucked their cocks and let them ejaculate in my mouth and I had let them get into my knickers and let them fuck me up my cunt, taking more precautions than my mother did at my age. I had even let a guy fuck me up my arse one time, although not again as sitting down on the toilet to take a shit the next morning was not a pleasant experience. It was most uncomfortable, and as we hadn’t used a condom I found out the hard way that combining a girl’s poo with a guy’s stale cum produces one of the worst smells known to man.
However, while I did like screwing guys, girls were my favorite partners in bed. There was just something so sensual about being intimate with another girl, putting our hands down each other’s knickers, making out, and eating out each other’s hairy pussies, drinking the girl juice and enjoying the feminine smells between each other’s bilecik escort bayan legs was heaven. Often I would sniff my own smelly knickers from the hamper while masturbating and pretend that they were another girl’s knickers and that she was finger-fucking my fanny.
I would have plenty to sniff on my lacy pink bikini style knickers I was currently wearing. My tight jeans sent the double-cotton crotch up my cunt to absorb my girly smells, my pussy getting plenty damp as I observed young Janine as the babysitter went about her business.
Looking so hot in her school uniform, I observed Janine’s nice bum, the teenager sporting a visible panty line through her school dress. Her perky teen tits pressed against the fabric of her uniform, and I could see the outline of her bra. She was perfect in every way, definitely at the front of the queue when looks were handed out to girls born in 1963, and I day-dreamed about getting into Janine’s knickers and seeing her pubic hair, the evidence that the young girl was a natural blonde. If I was a guy, I couldn’t have stood up without embarrassment, but as I was obviously a girl I had no problems aside from sticky knickers. However, the prospects of me getting into Janine’s pants were not so much slim as anorexic as the teenager has a serious boyfriend called Paul, who was a fellow Year 12 at her high school, and in any case it was unlikely she was a dyke like me anyway.