It wasn't "top shelf", it was the stuff kept in the back room. Grabbing a couple shot glasses she filled them up and we toasted. The vodka was as cold...as ice and was smoother than Grey Goose or Belvadere. Snatching the empty glass from my hand, she started kissing my neck. Her breath was filled with booze and the smell of burnt almonds, which as I had learned is what meth smells like when smoked. She grabbed my crotch, "Oh Daddy, I want you to fill me up before Mommy comes home". I needed to. ...and then....he's going to do this!"He thrust his hips up several times, simulating sex."And what are you going to do my little virgin bride? You're going to do the SAME thing! Show me how you do it!"I was blushing as I gave a little push. The girls laughed and told me I had to do better if I was going to keep a man happy.He laughed, too. "No, baby. Do it like you mean it! You've got to keep him CONTENT. Now show me what you've got!"He thrust his hips up several times again. This time I. For the first time in my life, I withdrew inward, wallowing in my own self-doubts. The hurt and anger I had bottled up inside was something I did not know how to express. Perhaps it was because I was never really taught how. Or maybe it was some subconscious wishful thinking on my part that no one would ever find out the level of hurt and shame I was carrying deep inside. Imagine me, the kid who once reveled in the spotlight as a star high-school athlete, avoiding other people like the plague.. 'Do you think I am beautiful' I asked him, as I pushed against him, feeling his erection against my bum under my dressing gown?He put his arm on my shoulder and gently kneaded it, causing me to push harder into his groin. His had had found my bare skin and he moved ever so gently along the shoulder, feeling no brassiere straps as my gown slackened easily enough and gave way as he pushed it away from my body.The more he pushed his fingers towards the inviting little protuberances that.