First Experiences

I grew up in the foster system. Back then the horror stories you hear were very true, not in all cases but enough that each new place came with a lot of fear and anxiety. When I was about 12 I landed with this one couple. They were great, super nice, treated me like their actual kid.

They had a son who was just graduating college. I was just starting to “come of age” you could say and just getting interested in boys and developed a crush on him. He was good looking, nice, athletic, smart. He was also like 10 years older than me and tech my brother now. He was there when I first arrived and we grew close but he went back to school a couple weeks later. When he next saw me I was 13 and had started to “mature”. I was already a B cup growing into a C and they were constantly sore.

I could def tell he was noticing their growth as he kept stealing glances at them. One time we were hanging out in his room and I was constantly adjusting myself bc my boobs hurt and he asked if I was alright. By this time I felt safe enough with him that I told him and he just asks if he could try something. I said sure and he had me stand in front of him as he was sitting in his chair. He put his hands on my waist then slowly ran them up until he was feeling my boobs over my tank top. He was massaging them. Honestly it felt nice. A little too nice. But it did help with the soreness some. I just stared at him, unsure what to do, then he stood up and kissed me. It was my first real kiss, tongue and all, and the next thing I know I’m on my back on his bed with one of his hands up under my tank and bra and squeezing my breast and pinching my nipple. He was on top of me between my legs and I could feel his hardness in his pants rubbing against the thin fabric of my shorts. It all felt really good. He kept grinding on me, kissing me, feeling me up, and then his body tensed and he kind of made a weird sound. Then he slowed down, then stopped grinding, pulled his hand from under my shirt, and eventually stopped kissing me and stood up. I pushed myself up from the bed asking if everything was ok and he just said yeah and that I should go. Confused I straightened my t clothes and left. As I was leaving he told me to keep this to myself.

Until this post I never told a soul, nor bout the other times similar things happened. I never even told my husband. I still think back on those days, of everything that happened in the various homes and I hope they’ve managed to fix things since then, but there were a few instances where I was completely into what was happening, this being one of them. Can’t say that for all.