"Why don't we check the evidencethat is available to us?"He gestured for them to pick me up and un-cuff me."What are you doing?" I asked in a tremulous voice."Take her top off," Simon ordered."Get off me," I screamed as I struggled with them. They were too strongfor me and they pulled off my sweatshirt. I tried to cover my bra andbreasts with my arms, but they pulled them aside."What do you think boys?" Simon asked obviously enjoying the spectacle."Nice pair," one murmured."Get a closer look," Simon urged. "Take off her bra." No, please, leave me alone," I sobbed.One of them roughly pulled my bra off and again my arms were pulledaway. There was a chorus of appreciative whistles."Do they look real, boys?" Simon asked."Hell, yeah," one of them said."But do they feel real?" Simon goaded."Please, don't do this," I cried.Several hands started to feel over my breasts and I closed my eyes andtried to fight the rising nausea. I felt violated and almost wishedthat I could die. I opened my. I was hooked on my own powerful orgasms, and feared the day when our parent would start to surmise what I was doing at night, would become a reality and separate us.I only did it one way, with my back to him, penetration was easy and controllable, as very little movement was required on my part, once he was fully inserted inside me, vaginal contractions and squeezing his cock, was the way I achieved my gratification, and no, I never felt shame or embarrassment.When we moved to a new house and had different rooms, that was when I suffered from frustration, and masturbation took hold on me, I became a serious 'Rubber' of my pussy, and started teasing men and craving encounters in cinemas and outside pubs at closing time, following drunk men, and going somewhere quiet to be touched.I can recall one occasion where I walked behind a man who spent half his journey being supported by a wall, he was so pissed.We were close to a dairy farm when I decided to walk past him and see if he would.
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