I was born on the day that  Elizabeth became Queen.  Not Elizabeth the first, I'm not that old!  26th February 1952.  My parents were rich.  Not loaded, but certainly well off.  Like most of their class, they had wanted a boy.  Not that there was a title to inherit, they just wanted a son.  They decided that raising me to marry well, was the best alternative.

I was sent to private schools, and yes, I had a pony.  I was sent to a convent boarding school from the age of eleven.  It was like a prison, I realise now that the intention was to keep me away from the opposite sex, I couldn't be married into a 'good' family if I was soiled goods.  At sixteen, I was sent to a finishing school near Montreux, although by then, finishishing schools were out of fashion.  This too, was to preserve my valuable virginity.   And it did, unless you count being fucked with a cucumber by another frustrated pupil.  Lesbian acts were rife, the school turned a blind eye.  After all, you can't get pregnant from a cucumber, candle, hairbrush handle, fingers, tongues or any other cock substitute.

But I had had enough vegetables, I was ready for a flesh and blood one.  So I deserted.  I hitched my way back to England, paying my way with handjobs.  My passport was still locked away back at the school, so I was smuggled through immigration in the back of a truckload of peaches.

I had my own bank account, into which my allowance was paid.  I had asked my smuggler to drop me off at Ashford.  Which he did, but at a motorway junction.  I took a bus into town and withdrew most of my money in cash, then caught a train to London.  Despite my aversion  to education, I was not stupid.  I knew that my meagre funds would not run to a West End flat.  I found a room in a boarding house in Tooting.

My time spent in private schools had not been entirely wasted, I had confidence, posture and a posh accent.  Americans call finishing schools "Charm schools", with good reason.  I charmed the landlady and the next day, charmed my way into a job.  In a shoe shop.  That's where I met Sean.

I sold him a pair of shoes.  He asked me to go out with him.  He fucked me on our first date, in the back of his car.  He had a car!  I remember thinking;

"Is that it?  Is that all there is to it?"

It had taken him under three minutes to come.  Into a condom.  I didn't come.  I had more pleasure wanking off the drivers of my lifts.  (There had been three of them.)  But I still came back for more.  I was smitten.  Sean was very good looking and exciting to be with.  He was a bad boy, a Jack-the-lad.  He always seemed to have plenty of money.  Sex was always in the back of his car and always with a condom. 

After about a month or so, he said that he could get us a flat, would I move in with him?  Of course I moved in with him.  He fixed me up with the pill, although by then the pill was available to unmarried women, he knew someone who could supply them.  He knew people who could supply practically anything.  He worked nights.  He was a thief.  An old fashioned burglar, he broke into empty houses under cover of darkness and stole things of value.  But unlike today's thieves, he did not vandalise the homes of his victims.  An honest burglar.

I found this a massive turn-on.  He would return home in the early hours, full of adrenaline and I would be full of his spunk shortly afterwards.  Of course he had plenty of time during the day, he persuaded my to give up my job so that we could spend the time together.

That's really when my sex education started.  Without the restrictions of sex in a car, he began to give me orgasms.  Not from fucking me, but with his fingers and his tongue, ways that I was familiar with from my finishing school days, but now with the added benefit that he would fuck me after he had made me come.

One day, after bringing me off with his tongue, he said;

"My turn.  Suck me off."

Suck him?  Really?  Suck his cock?  As much as I liked to play with it, the thought of it in my mouth was not appealing, supposing he ejaculated?  What would I do with his spunk.

"Swallow it,"

He said.  I became quite good at it, but never really enjoyed it.  Enjoying the act would come later, as would orgasming with a cock inside me.

When we were with his friends, I was at first shocked but excited by the language they used, every other word was fuckin'.  I adapted and was soon swearing like a sailor.  On night in bed, after sex, Sean was snuggled up behind me in the spoons position.

"How good was that?"

He said softly.

"Fuckin' marvellous."

I replied.  After a long silence, he said;

"Swearing doesn't suit you you know."

"But everybody swears.  You do."

"I am from the same background as them, we are born to it, you are not."

"Should I not use the words then?"

"Not as swear words no, but I like to hear a woman talk dirty in bed."

"What do you mean?"

He had a hand cupping each of my breasts.  He said;

"What am I holding?"

"My breasts."

"No, I am holding your tits.  What has just been inside you?"

I soon caught on.

"Your…  cock?"

"And what did it leave in your cunt?"

"Spunk, you shot your spunk into my cunt."

His cock, was now fully erect.

"Where is my cock now."

"Pressing against my arse."

"And your words have made it hard, use those words always, but only with me."

"Are you going to fuck me again?  Are you going to fuck my cunt and fill me with spunk?"

"No," he said.  "I'm going to fuck your arse."

Suddenly I no longer felt aroused, I felt frightened.

"I don't want that,"  I said.  "It's what queers do."

"That's true, but women have arseholes too, I want to fuck yours."

"Your cock is too big, it will hurt."

"It will, it always will, but you will grow to enjoy it, you will beg for it."

"Do it then, but please don't hurt me."

He told me to get on my knees on all fours.  As I did so, he got out of bed and took something from a drawer.

"Lubricant," he explained.  "KY.  Your arse does not lubricate naturally like you cunt, this will stop it from hurting."

"Have you done this before?"

"Yes, many times.  I will be gentle."

He was as good as his word.  He might have been a ruffian to the rest of the world, he was always gentle with me, inasmuch as vigorous sex can be gentle.  But my introduction to anal was not vigorous, he used lots of the lubricant and gradually worked a finger up my bum.  It felt strange.  Uncomfortable but not painfull.  Then the finger was joined by a second.  Just as I was getting used to it, he slowly removed his fingers and I felt the head of his cock take their place.  It slipped in easily.  He made small movements, gaining ground each time.  I felt stretched, but there was no pain.  Sean came very quickly.  Anal became a regular part of our sex life  and yes, I liked it.

To this day, I never swear.  But during all the time I was sexually active, I used 'dirty talk' in the bedroom.  For most men, it is a huge turn on, the transition from polite, well spoken lady to foul mouthed slut, works all the time.  Imagine your woman saying;

"I want your big cock so far up my arsehole that I will be able to taste your spunk when you come."

I knew that Sean fucked other women, in our social circle, women were for sharing.  But although Sean was always ready to share his cock, he would never share me.  He was over protective.  The other men in the group wanted me, but he would not be budged. This came to an abrupt end one day, when he told me that he had money problems and would I help him out.  I had no money of my own, I didn't work and my allowance from my father had long since stopped.  How could I help?

What he wanted was jaw dropping.  He wanted, in effect, to sell me to other men.  Not strangers, he explained, just the men in our group.  And it would be a one off.  For one night only, they would pay to fuck me.  He was very persuasive, I was very curious.  Until then, I had only been fucked by one cock, Sean's.  My only other contact with male genitalia,  was wanking my truck drivers.  I agreed to it.

The event took place at the house of one of Sean's mates.  A big house near Croydon.  I was surprised to find that wives and girl friends had been invited.  It was like a party to start with, drinks flowed.  Then Sean led to me into another room, a big room, seats had been pushed into a circle, in the centre was a strange contraption which Sean said was a bondage bench.  He helped me undress and told me to lie across the bench.  He then fixed my wrists to the thing's front legs.  My head was down, my arse was up.  Helpless and accessible to all.  He then blindfolded me, adding to my feeling of helplessness.

"Nobody will hurt you," he assured me.  "They will all fuck you, possibly more than once.  They will draw cards to decide who goes first. They will go bareback, that was the deal.  The women will just watch."

I heard the door open and the chatter as people entered.  There were some ribald comments, then silence as presumably, they drew their cards.  A voice said;

"Fuckin' 'ell Steve, you lucky bastard."

Another voice said;

"I've drawn second, my cock won't touch the sides after you've reamed her cunt with your battering ram."

Then another;

" 'E comes like an 'orse an' all, it'll be like fuckin' a blancmange.  Can I 'ave 'er mouth instead?"

"Course you can."

"I'll 'ave 'er cunt, I like a well buttered bun."

"Can we 'have seconds?"

"You can 'ave 'er any way you want, as often as you want."

A hand touched my bare arse, stroked it, then moved between and down to stroke my cunt.  If he was checking to see if I was wet, he needn't have bothered, I was dripping.  I was terrified, but highly aroused.

At last, the lips of my cunt were pulled apart and a cock nudged at my entrance.  Gently, but with one firm stroke, the thing was fed into me.  I whimpered, it was big.  But I had fucked bigger cucumbers.  He reached under me and held my tits as he fucked me.  It didn't take long.  He grunted as he discharged into me.

His place was taken by another, as he slid into my 'buttered bun', someone raised my chin another cock was presented to my mouth.  For the first time in my life, I was spit roasted.  I lost count of how many times I was fucked, I could feel spunk running down my legs and dripping from my chin.  I was in a daze.  Another voice suddenly focused my attention;

"You said anyfin Sean, can I fuck 'er up the arse?"

There was a long pause, then Sean's voice replied;

"Use plenty of lube, I don't want her ruined."

I was shaking in trepidation as fingers at first applied lubricant, then worked into what up to now had been my boyfriend's sole domain.  The unseen assailant pressed his cock against my tightly closed pucker, I resisted his entry but couldn't keep the muscles tense.  He must have known this, when I reluctantly relaxed, he popped right in.  I yelped.  The room was silent as he plundered my most private place, then he grunted and it was all over.

He was the last.  Sean removed the restraints and I tried to stand, but my knees gave way.  Sean caught me and supported me as I removed my blindfold.  An embarrassed silence had fallen.  Two of the women stood and helped me into a shower room.  Another gathered my clothes.  One of them asked if I was alright, I said that I thought so.

"That was fuckin' awesome," she said.  "I wish it had been me."

"And me," said another woman.  "We should do this again, I'll volunteer any time."

They helped me into the shower.  There seemed to be no damage other than a fat lip.  My cunt was tender, but nothing more.  I had felt humiliated, but the comments from the women cheered me.  They dried me and helped me dress.  Then I was taken I to the room where we had been drinking.  There was a round of applause.  I asked Sean to take me home.

There had been seven.  All have them had had seconds, one way or another.  Thankfully, only one had arse-fucked me.  Sean had not been one of the seven and he wanted his now.  For the first time, I refused him.  I said that I was too sore.  There was no way he could know that I wasn't, but my fat lip was very obvious, so he had to settle for a wank.

I woke up the next morning alone.  There was no sound from inside the flat.  I guessed at why.  He had a partner in crime, I didn't know who.  He might have been one of our circle, one of the men who had fucked me the night before, but Sean kept his job close to his chest.  Occasionally he would disappear for several hours, I knew that they were planning a job.

In my head, I replayed the events of the previous night.  My ribs were a bit bruised from lying on the bench.  I touched my cunt, it seemed to be fully recovered.  I thought about what the two women had said, about wishing it was them.  I could see why, I had been the centre of attention not only for the men, but their women.  They would have gone home horny but their blokes would be depleted.  There must have been a lot of DIY going on that night.

My fingers were still idly playing with my naughty bits, and they were getting wet.  I had a long leisurely wank, then got up and made myself breakfast.  Perhaps last night had not been so bad after all, next time, I might actually enjoy it.  But why did I have to be blindfolded?  I wouldn't have minded seeing seven hard cocks, all for me.  Next time, I would be a participant, not a slave.

I decide that it was time to move on, perhaps Sean had shown his true colours, he was a control freak.  I was not asked if I wanted to be gang banged.  Yes, I would do it again, but this time it would be on my terms, and that meant leaving Sean.  But I had no job, no money, nowhere to live.  Where would I go?

The decision was taken out of my hands.  A few days later, Sean and his burglar buddy went robbing and triggered a silent alarm that was investigated immediately by a nearby patrol car.  They were caught in the act.  They were refused bail.  I took the only path open to me.  I ran home to mum.

I more or less resumed family life, but their chances of marrying me off had gone.  Instead, I made my own decisions from then on.