But the black bitch leant in close and whispered into my ear that if I wanted her to fuck me with that black cock, I should beg for it…I found mysel... asking that bitch to fuck me.I even said the word “please” a couple times…The pain was horrendous. It felt my tight hole was being ripped off.I had expected some pain but I was not ready for this. My mind cried out for me to escape; but my body refused.It knelt on the bed, allowing this black she male bitch to fuck me.Slowly, some of the pain. Who I was after the changeisn?t who I am now. Maturity is a great thing, agreat, great thing, and I couldn?t really grow upuntil I got to be who I am.All I can tell you is who I am now. My past, well,it?s real, but at a distance in a way that I nevercould have imagined back then. I mean, a thirteenyear old can imagine being twenty-one, but actuallybeing twenty-one is so much different than thoseimaginings. Do you know what I mean? I don?t think Icould have ever told the person I used to be. " I was soaking wet, she didn't have to tell me, I knew. What I also knew was that in about one second I was going to come. She was stroking my clit through the thin material of my panties and I was building up for the biggest orgasm I'd had in, well forever, when she slipped down my body off the bed.It was at that moment that I thought I had regained my sanity and was about to get up when she lifted my dress and kissed my clit hard through my panties. "Make her stop Paul," I asked. "MAKE HER. My mom had mental illnesses and grandiose delusions and reality wasn't in the cards for her. I was sent to detention where a slap on my face told me to piss my pants when I got KOéd I woke and didn't need to pee anymore but had cold wet pants. They sort of stunk. After 3 foster homes where their c***dren taught me the ropes of slavery. I didn't like that at all. After I went through 2 the last one settled me through 1 grade in school.I was too cute when I was placed into Maryville. I was 8 then.