When I was eleven, I went through puberty. My mother sat me down and spelled out the “Facts of Life”. I learned how babies were made. The only man...I wanted to be my mate was Santa.While other girls were dating boys, I kept to myself, making toys. I would fantasize about the big man taking my virginity under the small Christmas tree my father scraped together to buy each year. I would come so hard, I had to bury my face in my pillow, so my parents would not hear.On Christmas Eve, I would drink. With talk like that, I was amazed to find her wrong. Before that, though, we spent our time in the living room touching thighs and biting ears. After a little over half an hour of tantalizing, ‘Oh god, I need to fuck her,’ thoughts, we finally made it into the basement. From the basement, she hooked her iPhone up to speakers, using them to play music to distract from whatever was about to go on. I made myself comfortable as she did so. From there, she sat back down on the futon where I was and. More

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