My Name Is…

By Ginny

(M/F/g, cons, inc)

Memories – of what lead me to this time and this place

I’m mostly called Ginny, short for my given name of Virginia. One of the other names I sometimes used while stripping and dancing the last three years of high school and continuing all the way through college was “Lanny.” I was born the afternoon of January 27th 1968 in the middle of a hard rainstorm blowing in from the waters off the coast of Washington State.

In the years since, I cannot remember a time in my life when sex was not occupying the greater collage of thought somewhere in my mind. My mother tells the story that I was an easy delivery. My father puts his own spin on my birth it seems there was a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder around the time the Dr. slapped my ass to get me breathing. How he knows that is up for question, but he swears to it.

My earliest valid memory that I know to be true is of my parents screwing their brains out on the floor of the living room after watching a porn film. There was a fire going in the fireplace and a movie screen set up at one end of the room and an 8mm movie projector running, making a snapping sound every time the leader of film on the take-up reel would strike the projector as it went around and around.

I stood there mesmerized watching my parents move into one position after another and listening to them giving each other directions and encouragement to do this harder or that softer as they continued totally unaware that I was there. As I remember it, I was soon to learn it wouldn’t have made any difference if they did. My parents never did anything behind closed doors except when they needed to use the porcelain throne in the bathroom.
My mom and dad were anything but shy, they both equally had an undeniable need for sexual gratification; they both excelled at it and enjoyed it. They both were involved in the twilight world of professional sex and were slightly more than just interested in (during the mid to late 60’s and early 70’s) the then partially gray legal area of pedo sex photographs, magazines, and film. Further, they both unquestionably wanted to make sure I knew of and had the opportunity to experience everything they had. My exposure to, and schooling in, the giving and receiving of sexual pleasures started early.

The story goes that as a new-born, while still nursing from the bottle, (my mother did not believe in breast-feeding), the nipple of at least one bottle a day, and more often than not two or more, would be coated in fresh cum before it went into my mouth. Usually it was my father’s but not always. This was done, I am told, so I would become accustomed to, and welcome the taste of warm cum later on in life. I can tell you this, that little gem of an idea proved to be very effective.

I can clearly remember watching as my mother would stroke and lick my father’s cock and was puzzled as to why it would become enlarged and erect. It didn’t take much effort on the part of Mom to bring this about and it wouldn’t be that long before she was guiding my hand, fingers, tongue, lips and mouth in the service of bringing Dad’s member to life. As a child I would very often leave my own bed during the night and quietly climb the stairs to my parent’s bedroom where I would be invited to crawl under the covers and snuggle up with them.

As I remember, my first real lessons started there in my parent’s bed where I felt warm, safe and comfortable between the two of them. My mom’s right hand between my legs with her thumb folded and resting against my then unopened vagina and my dad’s rock hard cock pressed firmly against the crack of my ass and his left arm over mine with his hand resting on my chest. I can’t tell you how old I was at the time of this memory, I’m just not sure; it was somewhere close to my 5th birthday either just before it or just after it, sometime between December 1972 and February 1973. That’s as close as I can get and still be positive. Anyway, it seems to me, that after that particular night my education started in earnest.

I have to take a breath here and explain something that is very important to me and I need the reader to fully understand and accept without question. I was never forced, coerced, talked into, or in any way made or asked to do something that was against my will or wishes. I wanted this sexual excitement I wanted every bit of it. It was a wellspring of emotion and feelings that came from deep inside me; it was then and still is now what makes me complete. 
I love the sounds of sex, the taste of sex, the smell of sex; did you know to a woman there is a scent to a man’s skin? My husband and my father’s scent, to me, is like fine aged cognac, the skin of my mother is fine champagne, Moet perhaps; my best G/F would be a “Laurent-Perrier.” That’s how I remember men and women that I have allowed into my life and have been within other than a ‘professional’ agreement. That being said, and I hope fully accepted, I can move on.

I had to have been in kindergarten because I was home in the afternoon so that would make it in the spring of 1973 before school ended for the year. I was by myself upstairs in my parents’ bedroom, Mom was somewhere else in the house and I was being a normal child opening every drawer I could find just to look inside to see what was there. I hit the jackpot with the top drawer in the nightstand on my mother’s side of the bed. She must have had a dozen or more dildos and toys covered up by a thick hand towel. At the time, I didn’t know what they were but they looked interesting. Some of them were flexible rubber things that had the shape of a cock and others were egg shaped connected to a battery holder and still others were hard plastic.

I found one that was small and pink, put the towel back over everything and took, what I now know as a “pocket rocket,” back down to my bedroom and slipped it under my pillow. I think I used it once before Mom found it. I mean I didn’t use it I just learned that if I turned the bottom of it, it started to vibrate.
 
Mom didn’t get angry or anything she just kind of smiled. She took me upstairs to her bedroom opened the drawer in the nightstand and put ‘my’ toy back. She then asked me if I knew what all the toys were for. She was very calm and still had that smile on her face. I took a clue from the dildos she had that were shaped like my dad’s cock only much bigger and said they were for sex. She actually clapped her hands and said I was right. So started my first lesson in masturbation.

My father went out that night to a sex shop and bought 2 of the smallest battery-powered vibrators he could find. From then on if my mom was missing one of her toys she knew exactly where to find it. I got into a habit of turning one of my toys on when I went to bed and placing it between my legs. The only problem was they made a lot of noise; they weren’t as quiet as they are now so everyone in the house knew what I was doing.

It was one of those times that I awoke in the night and went upstairs to my parent’s room to climb in bed with them. This time they were fully awake and concentrating on getting each other off. Now you have to understand that my dad is not a big man - maybe 5’8” and maybe 165 lbs., but when he was hard his cock was 8½ inches, and my Mom had every bit of his cock drown her throat.
 
My dad had his right hand buried in my Mom’s pussy so deep I couldn’t see his wrist; it was a classic 69 position with their own twist to meet their own needs. Mom would move her head so Dad’s cock could come out from the back of her throat so she could take a breath, but his cock never left the confines of her mouth and Dad was busy trying to push his hand even deeper into Mom’s pussy.

I climbed up on the bed next to Mom and watched her take Dad’s cock so deep that his balls were squashed up against her chin I tried to but I couldn’t put my hand or even a finger on any of it, she had it all down her throat so I had to wait till one of them finished so I could find a way of joining in. Dad came first and Mom choked on his cum because she gagged a little and it came out her nose. When Dad climaxed he shoved his hand hard into Mom’s pussy and she let out a yelp that was somewhat muffled by all the cum in her mouth. It was a little while before they realized I was there.

Dad rolled over on his back, Mom hung her head over the edge of the bed and lost the cum the she had swallowed and I started sucking my Dad’s cock to get any cum that wasn’t shot down my Mom’s throat. It was a totally automatic response on my part I didn’t even think about it. There was my Dad on his back his cock was still semi-hard and I wanted it in my mouth. I looked up and saw him smile and knew I had done the right thing. It took Mom a little while to recover. She was in the shower for a long time, long enough for me to get Dad hard again and for him to bury his tongue up against my hymen. When Mom came out of the shower she was not looking too good she told me to stay with Dad and she would sleep in my bed for the rest of the night.

So Dad was my first instructor in the fine art of giving head. A ritual and practice we would continue for years. Between my Mom and me, I seriously doubt that Dad had more than a drop or two of cum in him until I left for college. I made it my mission to get him off as many times a week as I could, my ultimate goal was always to get him so hot that I could mount him and have him cum inside me without him saying no, which he did for a full year before it happened.

Memories, childhood memories are confusing. You think you know something to be true and in your own mind you are absolutely sure it happened the way you have been remembering the circumstances and the events. However in the ensuing years after the event happened you mention it to and adult who was there at the time and you are startled to hear that what you thought happened one way actually is turned on its head. I am convinced that the adult mind looking back upon childhood happenings constructs things they way they wish it had happened. I am also convinced that conscious memories are not fully implanted in one’s mind so as to be accurately recalled until after the age of 9 or 10 and then only the important ones that had life altering implications to the individual.

For the longest time I had a certain memory of the first time my father and I had full intercourse. I carried this memory with me for years then one evening, before I completed college; my mom and I were talking about me growing up back in Washington State. Some of the episodes I would get involved in and how calm Mom was throughout everything; you know, mom and daughter talk. One thing led to another and soon we were reminiscing about my evening antics and how I tried to get Dad to say yes to “dipping his wick” into my virgin pussy.
Well, first of all it wasn’t virgin. Remember those dildos and vibrators? Well, dear Mother thought it would be a good idea to assist Mother Nature and facilitate the opening of my hymen so when the time did come for dear old Dad to say yes to the pleadings of his daughter, it would not be an unpleasant experience. As soon as she started her reminiscing about how and when she christened me with a blue hard plastic vibrator it was as if a kaleidoscope of imbedded pictures flashed in front of me. I was back in her bedroom on her bed my knees drawn up and both my arms inside my knees pushing them out and down so my pussy was as exposed as it could possibly be.

I had a pillow under my ass so my hips were up and Mom was swabbing the inside opening of my vagina with a sterile cotton pad soaked with teething gel. Teething gel is used to numb the gums of an infant when they are “cutting” their first teeth. It takes the edge off the discomfort of a new tooth coming through. And here was my mom drenching my pussy with this stuff and using cotton swabs to make sure my hymen was covered with it. It’s basically the same stuff the dentists use to numb the gums before they give you a shot of Novocain only substantially diluted. Mom let the soaked cotton pad stay inside me for a little while then she put pressure on that blue vibrator and my virginity was a thing of the past.
The human brain will not permit you to remember pain, you can remember that something hurt or was uncomfortable but self-preservation kicks in and the actual recall of the physical pain or discomfort is missing so I can’t tell you how it hurt. I can say I don’t remember it hurting. I remember feeling pressure, I remember my Mom washing my bottom with a warm face cloth and the two of us taking a shower together but that’s about it. I had completely forgotten all about this, why I don’t know but up until that moment I had it buried but not anymore. I think of it quite often now for reasons that will become clear later on.
During our mom/daughter chat, Mom set me straight on a few other things as well, it seems I was a real tease and my poor dad was my dead-on target. It was exciting, fun, and I loved it but, apparently I wasn’t satisfied with just playing with, stroking, sucking his cock and swallowing his cum; I absolutely wanted all 8½ inches his cock inside me. Did I ever have a lot to learn about the reality of that! I watched Mom and Dad fuck all the time; in my pre-pubescent brain I had this impression of the pleasure deep intercourse brought to my Mom so I did everything I could to get Dad hot.

I found where Mom and Dad kept all the infamous kiddy porn magazines and pictures and practiced facial expressions and what and how to wear my morning evening attire so my pussy could be seen with just a flick of my bathrobe or yawning and stretching my arms over my head so my T-shirt would rise up and show my bald pussy. You would be amazed at the deviant nature of the female pre-pubescent mind.

The one thing I have to say in my own defense is that Mom and Dad never said that’s enough, you have to stop. At some point in this mother/daughter exchange I asked Mom if she or Dad ever thought I’d gone too far with my teasing and antics and she chuckled and shook her head, no. It seems that they had left the kiddy porn pictures and magazines out where they knew my curiosity would find them. It was their way of non-verbally saying they were enjoying my little game, only it wasn’t a game to me I wanted my dad to fuck me, I wanted his cock inside me I wanted to feel it stretching me open and filling me with cum. I wanted what my Mom had any time she had the urge for it. But most of all I just wanted to show my dad I could sexually please him.

(More to follow - Hopefully)
Ginny:

Thank you for spending a few moments with me. In the event you have any comments, they may be sent to: thefamilytoy@hotmail.com

(The standard disclaimer applies) - this story is not reflective of any person living or dead. It does not imply that the author condones the actions contained here within. The characters portrayed here only live within the neuron net of my own mind)
