My eyes froze upon the glance of her silk-covered curves. Her innocence, her fragility… her senseof being lost in an ominous country with no one...to protecther from those who would have her. I had to have her. I realized I was one of the onesshe needed protection from. The worst thing about it all, I felt she might want meas well. Now, she was a typical girl of morals, and neverstrayed from her firm upbringing. But her smiles, hertouches, and her giggles were too much for me to. I wanted to take her in my arms and hug her right there. What a sweetie!"I think yours are coming on just perfectly", I answered. They're beautiful!"She looked down at her own, blushing a bit again. "Thanks", she giggled, "And I think maybe all this talk has made mine perk up too!"I looked openly now and she was right — there were two little bumps just visible. I chuckled, "You're right" and almost without thinking, I reached across and ran my fingers across her right boob.She jumped and I. “Cute young fella come in here looking for someone, don’t tell me you...” and she made a gesture I could only surmise was meant to indicate that I was gay.“No, I’m looking for my father.”“Oh!” she said. “Good! Young men should have a father.”“I need to know if he stayed here a few months ago.”“We have a lot of people stay here. I’m not sure.”“If you could look it up on the computer or in a sign in book?”She stared at me for a few seconds and then a song broke the silence. “Time’s up!” she said.. It made me so happy to be used like that. Being a cum-dumpster meant I was something more than completely worthless. I could just let him use me and have me. He made me feel valid and real, and being his pet and slave gave me a reason to get up in the morning. At first at least, we had more than that. We met by chance really.I was seventeen and in my final year of high school. A childhood friend introduced me to an older group, mostly late teens/early twenties, part of the scene culture. As I.