Chapter 2
I AM WHAT I AM ... A PUSSY
I watched Gil and Tom walking away down the walk, animatedly discussing their surprise package ... my friendly pussy. All given with tender, loving care. They would be back for as long as I wanted them to come back. RIGHT ON!
There is an old saying I got from Daddy. I have no idea of its origin. 'WHAT YOU WILL BE YOU ARE NOW BECOMING' Well, I'd just COME alright. Twice. And that's what I wanted to be for the rest of my life. Just one big long bursting, trickling river of come.
I think I was always what I knew myself to be at that minute, as I watched my first two lovers strolling away at a satisfied gait. They were walking slightly awkwardly, because their cocks weren't quite settled down to normal inside their skin tight levis. A willing, working, never ending love cunt called Tiger puss. That was me from now on. UMM HUM.
Ironically, the day my precious daddy was buried was the day I started to live. I've heard it said that a stiff dick has no conscience. Neither does my doll house. Not when it comes to fucking baby. Not when it comes to that beautiful stuff.
Actually, my conscience has never bothered me all that much. I recall developing the desire to please men at about age three. From this age on, starting with sincere warm love for my father, I became what I am now.
I loved Daddy passionately. He was big and warm and solid. He smelled of cigarettes and booze. When I climbed on his lap and he locked his arms tightly around me, I felt as if I had my own personal guarantee of protection from all the cruel evils of the universe.
My daddy loved me as much as I loved him. I was his pet and I knew it. Oh Daddy was nice enough to my sister Margeen. He frequently patted her on the head. But he didn't pick her up and swing her in the air, and then hold her close and say, "my darling Tiger, you are Daddy's very own precious baby love," like he did with me.
As we grew older, Margeen was jealous as a cat with her claws constantly sharpened for the kill. "I hate you, you nasty girl. You don't really love Daddy. You just sit on his lap and rub against him so he will buy you chocolates and fancy dresses," Margeen constantly yelled at me.
I felt sorry for her. She was going to be just like Mom. Dead all the way through, starting clear in the center of her pussy hole.
I knew at a very young age Daddy loved it when I rubbed my fingers against the back of his neck and said, "Daddy, I love you more than anybody in the whole wide world." Margeen was correct in her accusations. I did rub up against him.
I always sat astraddle of him, facing him of course. Sometimes when I scooted up close and sort of raised up, in order to reach around Daddy's neck, I could feel his cock get hard. I didn't know then why it happened. And I didn't think any 'nasty' thoughts, as Margeen implied.
It simply felt good. It made me feel strong. Like I had powers over him.
Sometimes when Mom put me to bed too early and I couldn't sleep, I turned on my tummy, curling my legs up against myself. Then wiggling my head deep down into my big fluffy pillow, I played a special secret game.
I lived deep in the jungle. My home was a palace of pure gold, supported by huge columns of marble, which reached high above the tree tops. My private domain, which I ruled explicitly, could be reached only by a long narrow stairway which was rolled down by one of my male subjects ... Only at my command of course.
At first I had both male and female subjects. But as Margeen's whining accusations annoyed me more and more, and Mom screeched and complained to Daddy that he cared for no one but his precious brat (who was me) I expounded all women from my fantasy world and my real life as well.
It was the same at school. Girls did not like me. But I had a strict code that I followed. I never argued or displayed myself unpleasantly like Mom and Margeen.
I wasn't the ugliest, nor the prettiest girl in school. I have brown hair, chocolate colored, with shiny red flecks all through it. My eyes are very bright blue, almost fluorescent, and set just a trifle too close. To my dismay, my nose is actually aquiline. Not large, but certainly not the nose of a raving beauty. I am very small, but I have a solidly curved ass. And I do have good legs.
Actually during my school years the prettiest girl was my own sister. Tall, lithe Margeen had thick almost white blonde hair which fell around her shoulders like a cape of gold. Enormous wide apart eyes. And the cutest turned up nose any female ever had. It was Margeen's disposition that was ugly. But that, I felt, was her own tough luck. I wasn't jealous of her. Margeen never had boyfriends, so she was no threat to me.
So what if the girls didn't like me. The guys panted after me. And that I liked tremendously. I never could understand the fable about girls being jealous of boys, because boys have a penis. I've always thought it was a wonderful attribute. I thought the division between a boy and a girl was the most clever quirk of nature existing. After all, how could I snuggle up to a nice big hard cock, if I had one myself? Nope! All I wanted for equipment was what I had ... a warm willing cavity where that masculine swelling could fit in snugly.
I don't remember just when I first realized how much I wanted that nice fattened dick. But thinking about it set me out on a steady chain of sex rationalization. So, from then on, when I played my game at night, I began experimenting with my subjects in my imagination.
And my imaginings were really far out! Much better than a dream, because a person can imagine anything they please.
I was an ageless and glamorously beautiful and tantalizing female. I transformed various boys I especially liked into handsome statuesque men, and appointed different positions to each one.
Tom Harris was supposed to be two grades ahead of me, but got a late start in his education because he'd almost died with rheumatic fever when he was six. Tom sat behind me in school and enjoyed pulling my long hair. I let him. When a female pleases a male, he gladly reciprocates. I knew that when I was three. Tom would have dog-paddled a muddy river for me.
Benny Bunker always hung around me, taking my part, though I never saw him in school, because he was much older than the rest of us. Benny always gave me rides around the block on his bike. If I told him to jump off a roof head first, he would. So in my imaginary world, I made Benny my body guard, and keeper of my private affairs.
Gil Hughes was basically a sissy. In a way he couldn't help it. His mother pampered him to the point of making him ridiculous. For instance, each noon Mama brought him a hot meal. Amidst the bustle of our lunch hour, it wasn't at all unusual, to Gil's gross embarrassment, to hear her burst out in her deep froggy voice from halfway down the corridor as she was waddling away, "now eat your peas while they are hot lambie."
"It makes you feel just like someone cut off your dong with a dull knife," he told me.
I felt sorry for Gil. I understood how his mother bugged him. My mom drove me up a tree. Not with pampering for sure. But with her constant bitching and purposely degrading me.
So, in my castle, Gil was the housekeeper, and my personal maid. I never ordered Gil about in my jungle world as I did my other servants. I always asked him nicely to do this or that. Just as I had always done with Daddy.
Quite naturally Daddy held the most important position in my domain. He was my father of course. A retired king. I ruled. But Daddy stood by to advise me and comfort me when I was weary.
He came to my intimate boudoir of white satin walls, silver bed and gold lame drapes and spread very often. He sat on a huge round white fur chair, where, weary from a stifling day, I came to him and sat on his lap for comfort and reassurance.
To restore my tired body, I cuddled up to him, and rocked slowly back and forth, until I felt that familiar cock jump up and harden between my legs! Then I knew I was his darling and safe from all of the bad deeds of the world. Content and serene in the knowledge that I was deeply loved, I would fall blissfully asleep ... at least partially ready to face Mom's yapping mouth the next day.
I'm not exaggerating at all when I say she was a cold bitch. I don't remember a time when she and my daddy made love. Well, I knew they had in the past. It's a hard cocked fact Margeen and I weren't hatched from rocks. But mom must have locked her legs right after we were conceived. Never once, like I'd seen on TV, or read in novels, did my daddy sweep Mom up in his arms, or playfully pinch and love her and slyly nod toward the bedroom. I never heard a squeak from their bed, or a moan,' or a love sigh escape from either of them. Reverberations of snoring or of arguments, yes, but never a hint of physical love.
I vowed it would never be that way for me. Maybe I just had a panting pussy. YOU WILL BE WHAT YOU ARE NOW BECOMING? Perhaps. Anyway, at about ten years of age, I began to delve deeply into the subject of sex.
I didn't really connect my night-time indulgence in my fantasies with my one small comfort of rubbing Daddy. I knew that in actual fucking, a female didn't just sit on a male's lap, fully clothed, and lean or slightly rub against that stiff protrusion which so obviously pulsated with uncontrolled desire for action. What she did, I told myself excitedly, was open her legs and let that hard wormy wonder sneak inside.
And the more I thought about it, the more excited I always became. Obviously, if a carefully easy rubbing was delightful; that big hardness stuck into your open cunt had to be more of a delight. I knew I would get around to the real thing very soon.
But for now, I experimented in my own make believe world with my first conceptions of sex as I saw it. At first I let each lover into my boudoir separately. I never allowed them to sit in my father's white chair. Instead, I lay on my satin sheeted bed, while my subjects, kneeling beside my bed, bowed before me. They kissed my tits with their hungry lips. This sent tingling sensations all the way to my warm secret treasure house between my legs. Then after we warmed up to a pitch of excitement, I allowed them to fondle my pussy and tease it. First slowly and delicately, then faster and faster with their greedy fingers always teasing my clit. Naturally to make this fantasy more realistic, I had to use my own fingers on that raging, throbbing pussy of mine. Eventually I became quite adept at bringing myself to come over and over, until that warm river of come could have flowed at the touch of a teasing feather.
When my lover of the moment would begin to breath heavily with passion, (as my daddy had done lately when I rubbed him and tickled his neck and ears) I sat up on the edge of the bed. Then I lifted my gift of eager pussy up slightly toward their face, with a sudden sexy lunge. Like I saw a stripper do in an old movie once. And at this point, my male partner always groaned with longing desire. He scooted up to me to stick his ripened cock between my legs ... deep ... deep into my hungry, yearning slit. AND THEN WE FUCKED UP A STORM!
I practiced this almost two years in my imaginings. Naturally in real life, Ron, Gil, and Benny had always hinted now and then they would like a little screwing from me. But I was always closely watched by Mom. I didn't dare. Besides, I felt the more I held off, the more they would want to get at me.
One day, in Gil's garage, all three said they would show me their cocks, if I would show them my cunt. I knew that couldn't get me in any trouble. And I definitely wanted to see their tools in the worst way. So I agreed.
Gil asked if he could have a feel. But at this time I said no. I didn't want any half-ass stuff. And I knew what I had was good enough to wait for and I told them so.
"Let me see if it is, Tiger girl," Tom teased. "Let me see." And he started chasing me around the garage. I giggled, pulled up my pants in a hurry and darted out the side door.
"Soon," I called back to them. Then with a giggle, I added. "Maybe."