The icing, part 1

In order to follow some kind of sequence in my life, I'll tell you about the icing on the cake, or if you will, the straw that broke the camels back. When I was 14, we went back to see my mom's family in Newfoundland, and I stayed cautious around my cousin. He tried to get me alone several times, but I made sure to always be around other family members. I remember we took a picture of the whole family one day, and he stood a little bit behind me and put his arm around my shoulder, making a "joke" of "pretending" to squeeze one of my breasts. Everyone just laughed, like they were brushing it off as nothing more than harmless fun. I knew it was a reminder, and an invitation for more. I smiled for the photo, and walked away. My other cousin introduced me to yahoo messenger (I'm showing my age a bit, I know) and I started talking to this British guy, we'll call him Greg here. We hit it off right away, and soon that's all I wanted to do was talk to him on the computer. I'm pretty sure my grandparents were getting annoyed and frustrated at me, because I wasn't visiting with them, but I was a teen, and I was interested in this guy who lived halfway around the world (sorry Nanny and Poppy). When we went back home, I begged and pleaded to have a computer in the house, with internet, so I could talk to Greg again. It took a while, but my parents eventually gave in and we got a computer and a dial up connection. I still remember the sound that stupid thing would make every time you turned it on. Forget about going online in the middle of the night, that shit will wake anyone up. Pretty soon, I was wandering onto yahoo messenger out of sheer boredom because of the time difference between myself and Greg, and guys were messaging me all over the place. I could literally be on there for 10 minutes and have 10 guys saying the same thing; a/s/l. (Age/Sex/Location). I would tell them my real age and sex, but not the location, until I knew them a little better. I had some good conversations with a lot of people, but I was also getting the wrong sort of attention. Surprise dick pics were common, of course, but that will come as no surprise to anyone who goes online in chat rooms. I was vulnerable to anyone who told me I looked good, or any variation on that. Compliments made me flustered, and happy. I sort of brushed them off in public, but really, I relished and treasured them. They were my worth, the only thing good about me. I suppose it was a few weeks in when I started giving in to requests for pictures. At first, it was just regular pictures, me smiling into the webcam (that I had also begged and pleaded to have to be able to talk to Greg). I got more compliments, more requests. I may have hesitated at first, but I thought there was no harm in it, so I took a few topless pictures, stored them on the computer, and gave them out to guys I knew for a while online. The compliments kept coming, and I started to feel numb about the pics I was sending out. Hell, I had sent them out to 4-5 guys already, what was another 10? I still to this day have no idea how many of my pictures I sent out, and I worry every time I go online that I'll see them because someone posted them to a website. Some of these guys (4, I believe) I met in person. I've prided myself on being completely honest so far, and I won't stop now, even though this is embarrassing. I was babysitting one night, and I invited one guy over to the house. I let him rub himself between my ass cheeks to orgasm (his, of course. Mine was not even attempted). I went out with another guy to the movies, and he made me give him a hand job in the theater. (I make the distinction between "let" and "make" here because I didn't pull away from the first, but did for the second, constantly. It doesn't make the first any less harmful). The third guy picked me up at home and drove me around until we found a wooded area not too far from my house, where I gave my first blow job ever. The last one I saw a few times, and we went to a motel (where I paid, because he had no cash) and gave more blow jobs, hand jobs, and once, sex. The age ranges from the first to the last were 25-ish to 45. I was 15. It makes me angry now, to think about it, because they manipulated me to be a one-time prostitute without having to pay me. I look at the girls on the websites now, and wonder how many started out like me, giving their photos out to a chosen few, then not really caring who got them. To be continued...