Memoir of a Child Slut/Chapter 1

My first mentor was Tom.

Tom and I were a lot alike. We were both only childs, so we were both lonely childs. Our parents went to the same church. Our fathers were both Irish. Our fathers were also drunks. Our moms were both gossipy narcissistic cunts who thought that kids were more bothersome than a blessing. So obviously we had a lot in common. And sharing so much in common, our parents decided we should spend as much time together as possible so that they could drink and gossip without us bothering them. I know that it was really my mom's idea because the neighbors didn't have exactly the same problems that she had; namely me.

I was only 4 years old but my mom was already tired of looking after me. I was more or less used to playing alone by then, but apparently I was always "being a pest" or asking stupid questions or getting in the way. I tried my best to be invisible (for a 4 year old) but that wasn't good enough when mom always seemed to find fault in whatever I was doing. If she was in a mood and couldn't find anything to punish me for then she would tease me about my messy hair or my weight. To be clear, I wasn't fat. When you spend so much time worrying or being punished it's easy to get an eating disorder. I chose to stop eating. She would tease me throughout my entire childhood about how chubby I was as a baby and how I'd definitely grow up to be a porker. All of her insults worked to keep me rail thin and even underdeveloped, being too scared to eat much of anything. I was positive that I was always one bite away from becoming obese despite my tiny stature.

Ultimately I didn't mind that mom wanted to see less of me. And if mom's idea was to find me a playmate that would have been great. But Tom was not 4 years old. Tom wasn't even in the 4th grade. Tom was nearly a teenager. Tom was a middle schooler when I was a preschooler. So, effectively, Tom was just a babysitter.

Neither Tom or I were especially fond of this arrangement at first but we both understood we didn't have a choice. It wasn't a big deal really since we mostly played by ourselves when together. Tom wanted to play video games and I wanted to play with dolls. Not a lot of overlap there, so we both happily did our own thing when we could. Sometimes he would come over and we would play in my room, other times in his, but he preferred his room since his games were harder to move than my dolls. That was also my mom's preference since she was never looking for more kids to "fuck up" her house.

I didn't spend every day with Tom, but as time went on I was sent over more frequently. Sometimes when our parents got together we would be forced to sleep in the same bed as the adults carried on into the night. It was comforting to have someone sleeping beside me so I didn't mind at all. While Tom rarely came over with his parents, I always got dragged along with mine. I was too little to be alone in an empty house by myself. But I was also too little to avoid getting myself into trouble, even while wanting to be invisible. It didn't help that my parents were always looking for any excuse to punish me, especially when people were over. I can recall so many times my parents tore off my pants or lifted my dress and spanked my ass silly in the living room for anyone who was visiting to watch. Frankly it only made me act out more.

Soon I spent nearly all of my afternoons at Tom's house, and many weekends too. I'd say some of my earliest and best memories are simply sitting close to Tom while he played his games all day. Eventually he would come get me after he came home from school as a matter of course, like an afternoon chore. I would stay over at his house until either dinner or bedtime, which depended on the mood his own mother was in and just how invisible I could be. But it's very safe to say now that invisibility was not my superpower.

The school bell never rang early enough for my mom. Some days she would bring me over at noon to gossip with Tom's mother. Others she would kick me out in the morning so she could go downtown by herself. Tom would often come home to me patiently sitting in his room, quietly waiting alone. I didn't really like his mom since she was a lot like mine but less familiar so I would hold myself up in Tom's bedroom for protection. His room felt like mine the more time I spent there. I can remember feeling very safe in my adopted brother's bedroom, but inevitably I would get bored. Four year olds aren't known for their patience.

I often snooped through Tom's room, emptying out his closet, his drawers, toys he no longer played with, drawings he had once been proud of. Sometimes I played dress up with whatever was on the floor or colored his sketches for him, other times I messed up his video games. I would poke into every sliver of the life of the brother I didn't have until he got there. His mom was nosey too, frequently bursting into his room without warning, sometimes to go through his things when he wasn't there but usually to just yell at him for something, so he was used to not having much privacy. Even when he got mad he mostly took my restless snooping in stride. But he didn't appreciate getting in trouble from me messing up his room.

My parents had already shown most of the neighborhood how I was disciplined but for the longest time Tom didn't want to deal with me and expected his mom to step in. Tom would loudly complain about getting grounded for something I did and she would just tell him to "sort out your own problems". Tom spanked me a lot before I realized that I was the problem that needed sorting. I thought that I was supposed to be spanked all the time. I wore dresses more often just to make the whole experience less of a hassle.

A year of this went by fairly quickly. Kindergarten both helped and hurt me. I got to play with other kids my age and do all sorts of crafts. But it mostly made me hungry for more attention, to talk about my day, to play more with others. I only had school in the morning, so by the time Tom got home I was desperate for stimulation. So was Tom. His tastes and interests were changing. He was going through puberty and wanted less and less to do with me and more to do with girls and became increasingly frustrated with looking after me every day. While I saw him as a supportive sibling that I could look up to, I was becoming a chatty more bothersome child to him. But I was used to being ignored. Tom just went about it in a different way.

I remember the first time he ignored me really well. I hid in his room during dinner and he snuck me some food after, which he'd done plenty of times before. He laid down on his bed while I sat on the floor beside him and picked at the small plate he brought me. Only a few minutes later his bed started squeaking. I looked up but from my seat on the floor could only see a few things. I clearly saw Tom's face, his hand, and his penis, but not much else. I didn't know what was happening. Obviously he was jerking off like I wasn't even there, but I didn't know. I do distinctly remember an angry expression on his face. Looking back he was either really focused or mad that he had to do this with the annoying neighbor girl next to him. Although I was staring the whole time he never looked at me once while he was doing it so those two options, focused or angry, are the only ones that make sense to me.

It was months before he did it again, but he eventually made it a more regular thing. It was usually after dinner that I saw, but sometimes right after school. He did it more during summer break. I asked what he was doing one time, after many silent jerk sessions, and he told me to mind my own business. That was hard to do when what he was doing was so strange and interesting, even though I had a vague sense that I shouldn't be watching. He eventually started to yank his sock off and slip it over his cock for some privacy. I asked him why his thingy needed a sweater. He didn't reply. Tom had a weird schedule though. It didn't seem to be a regular thing for him, just whenever it suited him. Maybe just when he got really pent up. Surely he jerked off more times than I saw. It's possible that he only ever beat his meat while I was around, and despite how intriguing that is I wasn't with him all the time. Summer especially he would go ride his bike for entire days without me. I was glad when school started and he was mine again.

But nothing lasts forever. His mom walked in on him jerking off one time. It didn't go over well. I said hi to her, unaware of just how inappropriate this was. Within seconds Tom went from beating his sock covered meat to being beaten by his sock wielding mother. Yes, it was the same sock.

His mom tossed me out into the hall then slammed the door. After a long screaming match and a series of loud smacks, the door opened and Tom got tossed out as well.

"Go take that shit outside!" his mother screamed. My memory is fuzzy on that. It's possible that she was referring to me, and actually said "that little shit", but I can't remember. What I do remember is Tom being both humiliated and furious. Once we were outside, walking down a rarely used trail through some nearby brush, I tried my best to help.

"Sorry if I got you in trouble again."

"Just shut up."

"But... can I help make it better?"

"Yeah, shut it already! Else I'll shove something in your mouth to make you!"

"Okay... would that help?"

Tom stopped and looked at me like I was the weirdest looking thing he'd ever seen. I didn't even know what I was saying. I only wanted him to be happy. Or at least not be mad at me.

"What?"

"Would it help if you put something in my mouth?"

Tom scowled. After looking all around, he pushed me backwards a few feet off the trail, undid his pants, then started jerking off. Stood right in front of him and at eye level with this spectacle, I watched with continued fascination regarding this act I still knew nothing about. After a minute watching in silence, he instructed me to open my mouth. I did so hoping only to make him happy again. I don't know why it didn't expect it, but when he slipped the end of his cock past my lips it really startled me. I tried to pull away but he'd already placed one of his hands behind my head to lock me in place. A moment later a warm slick liquid gushed into my mouth. It tasted so weird and I had no idea why this was happening. It was actually a horrible experience, and I can still recall it so vividly; held against my will, a penis exploding inside my cheeks, a weird terrible taste, Tom so angry, grunting and panting, and me so worried that I'd get us both in trouble again just for being near Tom while he was doing this. I deduced very quickly that what he was pumping into me wasn't pee, but it took me a long time to really put any of the dots together. All I really knew for sure was that after all this happened and I let the gross stuff drool out of my mouth, Tom magically calmed down.

Knowing Tom was better was all I needed to make me compliant. Afterward we kept walking together but Tom got worried. He told me not to tell anyone. Then he begged me. Then he threatened me. The whole time I just nodded fervently. I was okay with this. I didn't like it, but we had an immediate understanding.

It took a while before Tom would do that again, taking me into the thicket after school, but he did. He fed me his white goop, I would spit it out, then we would go back to his room and spend the rest of the afternoon together like normal. It felt just like old times, sitting close and feeling safe. I hated what I had to do to get it, but if it helped Tom like me again it was all worth it. Until he started to get bored.

After a few weeks of doing this every day, Tom started making other requests. One time he asked me to drop my pants while he jerked off. Another he asked me to touch him. Then he asked me to swallow. That part was really hard to get past. I was already so used to spitting it out, I didn't understand why I needed to eat it. I resisted for a few days but eventually he insisted, holding my mouth closed after he popped and forcing me to gulp it down. It was tough, and it took all of my willpower, but I did it. He was so happy after my first swallow. He gave me a piggyback ride back to his house and snuck junk food up to his room for us. We chatted and horsed around, and it was actually one of the best days I ever spent with Tom. I still hated the act needed to get us there, but I loved everything after.

Tom fed me his cum for years. It became so normal that I hardly even thought it was weird after a while. I would race home after school looking forward to my snack so I could spend more time with Tom. I even got worried if he didn't come over right away because I knew he needed me to make him feel better. I could find out so much about his day just by tasting his cock. I knew whether he'd showered that morning, or had gym that day, or felt stressed or nervous. It was like another form of communication for us, which helped me so much when most of the time we hardly said anything to each other.

He did eventually explain some things to me, like how good it felt to have my mouth touch him, how "hot" it was watching me swallow. It wasn't hard to coax me into jerking him off after that, but it seemed like I could never get it right. He said I was still too young and didn't know what I was doing so I was usually left to stand there with my mouth open while he produced his after school deposit. But it wasn't limited to that. Sometimes he would have me strip completely naked so he could look at me. Sometimes he was the one who got naked. Sometimes I would feel funny and play with myself, but when I did I ended up confused, not entirely sure what it was I was feeling. Sometimes I would gently cup his fuzzy sack to try to help him go faster. And sometimes I tried sucking it out for him, softly slurping on the end of his dick. But most of the time it was just him dumping his load down my eternally thirsty throat.

One time when I was naked he was feeling so good that he starting bucking about and accidentally pulled out of my mouth. He blew his spunk all over my face. I felt gross and messy and was worried I'd get him in trouble. I tried to lick it up but it was so weird trying to drag it all into my mouth. Tom eventually grabbed my panties, turned them inside out, and affectionately wiped the cum off my nose and cheeks with the gusset. Maybe he knew that there was extra material there, or maybe he was doing it got a laugh, but he then handed them to me and told me to get dressed. For that whole afternoon I sat next to Tom with his slippery goop coating the inside of my panties. My body kept his sperm warm and most every time I moved I felt it slide across my skin. When I went home later that night my mom wouldn't let me have a bath and told me to go straight to bed for arguing. I could've at least changed my panties before bed, but I had the naughty thought of sleeping with them on. It felt a little bit like Tom was sleeping with me. That's when I really started to become fascinated with cum.

I still didn't like eating Tom's cum, or at least I told myself that. But there was a strange and growing allure to having his stuff shoot in my mouth. At some point I stopped swallowing right away. Every now and then I'd play with his load, roll it around on my tongue, have it leak out only to suck it back in. I started challenging myself to hold it longer and longer, to tuck it under my tongue or swish it from cheek to cheek for as long as I could. I would often swallow by accident back in his room, forgetting what I was doing or when forced to answer a question from his nosy mom. I still thought it tasted weird, but more importantly it tasted like Tom, and that's what mattered most. My fascination seemed to help Tom feel better than ever. Even though there was always shame behind Tom's eyes after he came, he was the most satisfied when I was really into it, and I knew it.

My first mentor turned me into a cumslut.

The exposure to such deviancy and the daily feedings of cum all worked to desensitize my young mind. It also made me increasingly eager to please in all aspects of life. Everything was just better when I could make people happy, and I started to feel powerful. It felt like I had a superpower. I could make boys happy just by swallowing some goop? That's so easy!

But then, overnight, I became powerless...

[Memoir of a Child Slut/Chapter 2|Chapter 2]