Angelica the Playtoy

I squealed and moaned as his finger struck gold inside me. He stared in my eyes as he moved his finger up and down inside my coochie, I pinched my nipples and squeezed my tits as he stared lustfully into my eyes. I struggled hard to control myself, to stop myself from releasing before him as I pulled on his dick hard. He let out a moan like a wild beast as his chest pounded.

"Harder, harder!!" He begged me to stroke him harder.

I moved my hands up and down faster, trying to meet up with his pace, my blood boiled, my legs fidgeted, my hart raced; one hand on his cock, the other in my breast, squeezing and pulling at both of them. Suddenly it shot out, a splatter of cum all over my stomach, some landing on my breasts. Instinctively I scooped a little from my breast and tasted it; salty as always, he looked at my and a smile lit on his face.

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I am 26, but life has thrown me some tough stuff that made me grow up fast. I lost my parents in a car crash when I was just two - I was right there in the car with them when the accident happened, but somehow I came out okay. What seemed like a good family trip at the start ended up with a two year old in the ER. The accident changed everything for me. I often think about how different my life might be if my parents were still here to give me guidance, because from the way things went after then one might say I was actually jinxed.

At that time, my mom's elder sister was the only relative willing to take me; a two-year-old infant in. The rest of my relatives were more interested in fighting over their share of my parents' properties, questioning how they acquired them, rather than caring for me, the child they'd left behind. They didn't even consider setting aside anything for my welfare, or my education.

My aunt, a petite woman with a bitter streak, raised me. She wasn't cruel, but she was indifferent, and her bitterness often spilled over onto me, the orphan she'd been saddled with. She went through the motions of caring for me, but her heart wasn't in it.

To my aunt, I was just a duty, an obligation she felt forced to fulfill by providing me with the basics - a roof over my head and food on the table. She didn't really notice me or show any genuine interest in my life. I felt like I was just a presence in her household, not a person worthy of attention or love.

In contrast, her family members - her husband and sons - showed me a bit more kindness and care. Although I later found out that their motivations weren't entirely pure, their actions still made a big difference to me. Despite their reasons, they were more caring and accepting than my aunt, who was supposed to be my closest relative. It was ironic that I found more warmth and acceptance from them, rather than from my own aunt.

As I grew older I began to notice changes in my body. I observed that my peers seemed to fit into certain body types - some were straight and thin, while others were plumper. But my own body was curvy, and I couldn't help but notice the differences. I'd study the shapes and forms of other kids my age, wondering why I didn't fit into any particular mold. Unlike most of my mates I didn't fall into the average American girl figure, instead my breasts had become extremely full and my hips to waist ratio was unrealistic. You'd think it was a family thing but all my aunt's and cousin had that box figure.

With no one to talk to about these feelings and concerns, I felt isolated. My aunt was distant and only interacted with me when she needed something, like sending me on errands. I longed for guidance and support during this confusing time, but it seemed like I was on my own, trying to navigate these changes without any direction or reassurance.

Bath times soon transformed into a delightful experience for me, particularly after an accidental touch of my intimate area while bathing. In that moment, a jolt of electricity surged from my nether region straight to my brain, setting off an explosive sensation throughout my body. It felt as if I were engulfed in flames, with my blood seemingly transformed into liquid fire.

It was such a wonderful feeling that I began craving it constantly. Whenever I felt the urge, I would rub my thighs together, and the friction would create that delightful tingling sensation again, making my body flush and a kind of liquid flow from my lower region. Initially, I thought it was pee that was escaping unconsciously, but after a few months, I realized that what was coming out of my body during those rubbing sessions, or while I was bathing, was actually wasn't pee. It was much clearer, and one day, I decided to taste it. To my surprise, it had a sweet, tangy flavor that I found enjoyable.

At times, the substance had an exceptionally thick and rubbery consistency, yet its flavor remained unchanged. I found myself perplexed, despite enjoying the taste; my curiosity about it deepened, but, unfortunately, there was no one around to provide me with answers. By the time I reached a certain age, my body had developed to a level similar to that of an average girl 3 years older than mel. My legs had elongated and become more graceful, my bosom was about the size of a standard grape, and my hips were noticeably wider than those of my cousin Richie's girlfriend, who was already 2 years older than me at that time.

My aunt has three children, all of whom are boys. The youngest of them is just a year older than I am, while the eldest, Richie, is 23 and currently in his third year at university. When I reached the age of 18, I often experienced a playful rivalry with both Richie and his younger brother, John. They would treat me as kindly as possible for boys, which meant that, on occasion, they would share their food with me, especially during those times when their mother was in one of her usual foul moods and had denied me a meal.

In those moments, they would discreetly sneak portions of their own meals into the store room, which also served as my bedroom, and encourage me to eat up.

At times, I found myself consuming more than they did, as my portion was the equivalent of a whole while they managed with only half of each item. Initially, I didn’t see anything wrong with this arrangement. However, I began to notice that mamore accommodating, while John seemed to be attempting to imitate his older brother.

But later on my thought about Richie would change.