textfiles/sex/EROTICA/G/grownup.txt

Copyright (c) 1997   Taka Hike.  ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without
the written permission of the author.  This story may be freely
distributed with this notice attached.  The author may be contacted
through mrdouble@airmail.net.






Growing Up in Pakistan.....by Taka Hike

    Rashmed grew up in a rural part of Pakistan where there was very little
exposure to Western thinking and culture (at least at the time she was a
child.)  She always found it curious that Americans were so paranoid about
child molestation.  Her family and everyone she knew growing up accepted it
as a natural thing, up to a point. I enjoyed listening to her describe what
she could recall of these events, and although I kept it a secret from her, I
maintained a journal of her tales for more than ten years. On occasion I made
tapes from hidden microphones of her telling me about her experiences. She
was only 19 when I started, so if some of the language seems immature in
places for a woman in her thirties (as she is now), you'll know why. In fact
she had only been in the U.S. for a couple of years since her father
remarried an American woman. Together they were a little like a bawdy Brady
family - three boys and three girls from two marriages.
    She barely remembered her first experiences, being only 4-5 at the time.
She recalls being in the back yard where an older male cousin was playing
some kind of game that involved her being tied to a tree. When no one was
looking he would lift her skirt and look up between her legs. She thought it
was a little strange the way he would get all excited about it, but it didn't
bother her so she let him whenever he wanted to. Seeing that she wasn't upset
by this, he began using one hand to lift her skirt and the other to pull back
the waistband of her panties so that he could see her hairless mound. He
would find reasons to go to the store and take her. On the way they would
pass through a large field with some caves. On both the way there and the way
back he would take her 'cave exploring' in more ways than one!  Gradually he
worked up to putting his tongue against the crotch of her panties, but not on
her directly for some reason. Rashmed recalls only good and warm feelings and
actually developed a crush on him that lasted for many years after. Her
adventures with him were limited to vacations from her boarding school in a
convent (*see the separate chapter regarding what happened there.)
    Only scattered memories exist for her between age 6 to 11, with the
exception of a different cousin that would frequently play a game with her
where he would try to guess the exact location her nipples through her dress.
Anytime she wanted a small sum of money or candy she could play this
"guessing game" as they called it, and try to win it. He would make his guess
by pinching her chest through the fabric to see if he struck nipple. If she
won, he would give her what she wanted. She usually won to keep her coming
back for more, of course.
    Only here's the twist...she would "lose" when he guessed _wrong_. In
other words, if he could find her nipples, she won!  So to be sure to get
what she wanted she put on a transparent shirt and pulled at her nipples
until the became the size of walnuts before asking him to see if he could
find them. Of course a young girl wearing transparent clothing with huge hard
nipples poking out found that her cousin wasn't the only one that would give
her candy or even money to play her 'guessing game'. Soon the man that
brought fresh fruits by every day would give her a couple of melons when he
guessed right (how appropriate.) An old man that lived upstairs suggested
that she could make more money by playing _his_ guessing game. His game
involved figuring out how to get his penis out of his pants without unzipping
him. She would spend several minutes wrestling it around in his pants before
giving up, saying she still didn't know how. Sometimes he would tell her that
she wasn't done yet; that she must first 'try harder and longer.'  She knew
that meant she had to move it around some more before he would give her the
American equivalent of about 50 cents.
    Her next memory of molestation or incest wasn't until she was 12 during a
Summer vacation. She had entered puberty and was already wearing a 32B bra
(which looks more like a D-cup on a 12 year old!)  Her aunt had warned her
not to go around without a bra or she would have "health problems."  This
worried her so much that the she started wearing a bra to bed at night to
make up for the time she had to remove it to bathe!  Rashmed's uncle was also
living with the family at the time. She was never sure exactly how old she
was when it started, but she would awaken to find her uncle asleep in a chair
next to her bed. It wasn't long after that when she awoke one night to the
creaking bedroom door as he entered her room. She pretended to be asleep.
Barely opening her eyes, she saw him carrying a blanket and then quietly
moving the rocking chair next to her bed. He sat down with the blanket on his
lap and then gently pulled the covers back from Rashmed, exposing her bra.
She remained perfectly still as she felt his left hand on her right breast
gently starting to rub her soft orb through the fabric of her bra. Rashmed
remembers enjoying the sensation, so she kept pretending to sleep. She
actually remembered thinking to herself, "what  a nice uncle I have to stay
up at night and take care that I sleep well!'
    This continued night after night with her still pretending to sleep. "I
don't know why.", she said, "It was like some kind of game I think.  The
problems didn't start until he began taking my bra off so he could play with
them naked. I got nervous because my aunt had warned me about not taking my
bra off for too long or I would get sick. I didn't want to tell him when he
was touching me because it would have ruined our game. Then I didn't want to
say anything during the day either because he would know that I'd been awake.
So I told my aunt, which was his wife."
    Rashmed laughs, "I remember one morning at breakfast. I said something
like 'Aunt Sara, could you ask your husband not to take my bra off when he's
touching me?'  I think she spit her food out about twenty feet!  She was
really shocked. I was so naive that it didn't even occur to me that she would
have objected to her husband feeling me up. But my aunt had spent a lot of
time in the U.S. and probably had American ideas about these things. She went
to my mother, which was her sister, and started apologizing for her husband's
terrible behavior and promising that it wouldn't happen again. It was my
mother that calmed her down by saying, 'Shush!  You can't just tell the men
not to do this and that. If he wants to touch her, then he's going to and
there's nothing you or I is going to say to change him. You can't change the
spots on a leopard."  Then she called me over to tell them both exactly what
he had been doing. I was feeling guilty now that I was causing everyone
problems, so I tried to make my story seem less serious. I said that he
didn't do anything really, just tucked me in sometimes. Of course they
weren't satisfied. My aunt asked if he had been fondling me, and in my mind I
thought she was asking me if he was 'fond of me', so I said something like,
'Oh, yeah! A lot!'  Before my aunt could recover from that shock, my mother
told me to run along. From the next room I could hear my mother telling her
sister, "It's all right, Sara. She's just a little girl. It isn't like he's
having an affair with a grown woman!  Our mother always told us that as long
as no one gets pregnant, let the men have their fun.'
     Rashmed added, "Somehow my mother, of all people, convinced her sister
that it was better for her husband to get off feeling me up than it was for
him to run around with mature women that had diseases. She never asked me
what I thought. I was a child, and a girl at that. Any adult male in the
family had infinitely higher status and privilege, and touching children
'inappropriately' wasn't even a concept. If they complained, they were just
as likely to be punished by their mother, who owes first allegiance to the
men in the house. Some children, not only girls, were even raped and tortured
while their mother would lie to the police to protect their husband or
brothers."
     This meeting ended with her aunt agreeing not to say anything to her
husband about it, Rashmed agreeing to let them know if he started having
intercourse with her(!), and her mother agreeing to tell the uncle to leave
my bra on. By Pakistani standards (especially in rural areas) her mother was
a total bitch to have stood up to her own brother-in-law like that. No other
woman would dare tell a man how to treat a child - and that went double for a
girl child. But somehow she did. Rashmed went on, "I remember hearing the men
talk about my mother. All they could say was 'no respect!' which would tend
to cow down most women into submission.
   Later that Summer one of the neighborhood boys took Rashmed to a "secret
hiding place" which turned out to be the same caves her cousin had taken her
to many years before. He told her that he liked to go there to masturbate.
The next thing she knew he had unzipped his pants and began playing with
himself.  Rashmed vividly recalled, "He wanted me to play with it, too. Then
for the first time I realized that my uncle had been doing THAT with one hand
while he was massaging my bust around with the other. So I went running back
to tell my mother that the neighbor's son was trying to make me play with his
cock and that my uncle had been masturbating in my room at night. I think I
was expecting a lot of sympathy, somehow. But things are so different there,
it's difficult to relate.  My mother said something like 'So? How is that
hurting you? What business is that of yours, anyway? If that makes him happy,
why do you want to ruin his fun? Has he been a bad uncle to you that you want
to punish him?'  I began to cry. Not because I felt molested and she wouldn't
help me, but rather because I was so guilty about having tried to get my
uncle in trouble. I was even crying about having been mean to the boy next
door by running away from him!  My mother made me stay in my room to figure
out why I was such a rude little girl. I was crying pretty loud and after a
few minutes she came in and told me that sometimes people put themselves up
on a pedestal like we're too good to touch, and that I should be more humble
and learn to see a man's desire as a compliment.
    That night when my uncle came into my room I didn't pretend to sleep. I
wanted to make it up to him. I told him how I'd been bad and pretended to be
asleep most of the time. Then I told him about the neighbor showing me how he
plays with himself. I asked him if he would like me to show him how the kid
next door did it. He must have been thrilled out of his mind to have a little
girl with big boobs asking him if he'd like a hand job!  It seemed like two
seconds after I held it in my hand he started spraying cum all over my bed. I
still don't know why I wasn't surprised. Somehow I knew that I'd done it good
and that was supposed to happen. They don't have porno movies there so it
must have been some actual man ejaculating that I saw even earlier but don't
remember.
    Every night from then on he would teach me what felt good and how much
pressure to use, and how fast, what angle to hold it at, and even what kind
of things boys liked to hear when they were being masturbated. I practiced on
the boy next door during the day and my uncle nearly every night. He was
really a dirty old man by American standards, but there I felt like I was
learning how to satisfy my future husband.

BACKGROUND AND CULTURAL THINKING:  "As a girl growing up in rural Pakistan,
being a sexpot was the ultimate ambition. Having no money, or television, or
good radio or movies, the only amusements left are drugs and sex. Almost
everyone drinks, even the nuns at the convent!  Knowing how to pleasure a man
would get you a rich husband, or if you were great and also amazing looking,
you would try to find a visiting American. When I was around 16 catty girls
would see me and say something that translates like, 'Oh, look! Another
ravishing slut that would rather use a white cock than a tampon.'  But no
matter what they pretended, every girl studied European and American
magazines and tried to dress and wear makeup like the models, and some dieted
and exercised as much as they could without getting caught. Families didn't
want their daughter to be skinny because people would accuse them of starving
her, especially if she had brothers that were fat. Starving a daughter to
death is not uncommon because if she has a traditional wedding the family
will have to pay the groom an enormous amount of money. Poor people simply
don't have that much, so they sometimes stop feeding her. It's not exactly
legal, but no one does anything because children have no rights, and
girl-children are somewhere below dogs in terms of rights. Naturally some
girls pleased their family in the end by getting married to someone that
didn't require them paying a dowry, but for most families that was a pipe
dream.
     We would flirt with any attractive white men we saw. I'm sure that some
believed we were prostitutes, but the smart girls refused money and would
never complain about anything their date wanted to do. When a girl hadn't
been seen for a few days we would celebrate, saying that someone rich must
have taken her off to marry.  Actually though, many girls would later turn up
in the newspaper as having died at the hands of some maniac because they
would head off with anyone and go anywhere to do anything. If he was
interested in sadism, she would lead him to think she was into masochism. By
the time things got out of hand for her it might be too late. Tourists didn't
understand that, so most people didn't blame them. Things aren't black and
white like they are here. Sadism isn't "evil" any more than Christianity is
"good."  Both have their points and their flaws. If I was a sadist and some
14 year old girl was begging me to take her from her family and torture her,
the last thing I would think is that she just wanted to marry me."

BACK TO HER STORY: By the next year's Summer vacation her aunt and uncle were
living with other relatives. Soon after that her parents were divorced and
her father remarried an American tourist that took him back to the U.S. with
Rashmed and her brother and sister. She had been married before and had boys
and a girl by that marriage. They were 19 to 22 years old, and within a
couple of months they were all enjoying their new step sister in their own
way.
    Rashmed's new American step brothers Thom and Chris loved to hear her
explain how she had been taught to masturbate her uncle in Pakistan. Mostly
because every time she told them about it they would insist that she showed
them exactly what she had done (using their cocks as visual aids!) Rashmed
smiled mischievously saying, "I knew that they just wanted me to make them
cum, but they were too hung up to just come out and say 'jack me off', so
always we had to go through this silly story-telling ritual. I would very
casually show them each step saying 'I held it like this and then I moved my
hand like this, and then rubbed it like this, then he told me to point it up
while I did this...' and I would keep telling my story and demonstrating like
it was the most mundane thing, until he came. Then I would have to start all
over again showing the other one what he'd just seen. Everyone knew it was
ridiculous, but it made what I was doing seem more innocent and less like
them molesting their sister. They would ask questions like they were
reporters interviewing someone on the news, 'now would you say that he
twisted your nipple like this, or more pinch it like this?'  Then I'd say,
"well, sir, he would use his thumb and press down, then with these two
fingers and he would pull it up...", all while I showed them on myself. That
part would always made them cum a second later. Then we would just clean
ourselves up and go back to whatever we'd been doing. I was really happy
because I felt so important to them, and they would do anything for me. It
was the way a family should be, don't you think?  I don't see why Americans
think something was wrong. So I got them off. So what? They would have just
jerked themselves off to some porno magazine anyway, and I would have been
left in my room feeling all alone.
    I didn't really understand why breasts were so exciting to men here until
I'd been here a few years. Especially why men here find it so exciting when a
girl likes to have her tits played with hard. White women are too into
pleasing themselves first. I think because I grew up in an all-girls boarding
school where everyone had tits, and middle eastern women tends to have a lot
of hair that you always have to bleach or wax or pluck or electrolyze - and
it takes a lot of time. Most girls don't want hairy nipples. It makes them
look like gorillas. You can't bleach or wax your nipple or you'll get an
infection. That only leaves plucking and electrolysis. High school girls
don't have money for electrolysis, so every day I saw girls in front of the
mirror plucking the hairs out of their aureole with tweezers. The first time
you do it you swear it'll be the last time because it hurts so bad.
Especially right after. But the hair gets worse and you feel bad every time
you see some magazine with pink smooth European women all over. So, being a co
ward, most girls start out with a friend plucking them in exchange for her
doing them. Eventually you get used to it and you can do it yourself, but it
takes a lot of years before you can do it without crying a little. So between
Laila pulling on my nipples with the tweezers and my uncle pinching and
rubbing them while he came at night, I got used to some pretty rough handling
compared to girls here. Here girls are like 'Oh my god! ' when you barely
touch them. Guys really hate that."
    Karen, her step sister was fascinated with Rashmed's attitude and body.
They shared a bedroom at first, and they would see each other nude and peek
at each other to compare. Rashmed remembered, "Karen was a lot older than me,
but I still had the bigger bust. She had these huge nipples about 4 inches
across. I've never seen nipples that big on such small breasts. She told me
that her boyfriend was crazy about them but I never saw her boyfriend. One
day Karen said that she was going to show me how to check myself for breast ca
ncer. I thought I knew, but she was studying to be a nurse so I was into it.
She was acting like a nurse saying to put my hands behind my head so she
could get a good view. I went along with her but after about five minutes of
pulling and rubbing I knew that she had just wanted an excuse to touch me. I
didn't really care but I remember thinking that it was a little weird. I mean
she was a girl.  I looked her in the eye and told her 'I was just thinking
how good it would feel to masturbate right now.'  Then we both started
laughing because she knew that I was on to her. She told me that she had been
watching me walk around and couldn't believe that my tits weren't silicone. I
reminded her that they don't have that in Pakistan!
     Later when I was getting ready for bed she told me how she likes to
masturbate before she sleeps. As if I didn't know!  I couldn't sleep half the
time for listening to her sqeaking bedsprings and the buzz of her vibrator. I
asked her why she didn't have sex with her boyfriend. I should have suspected
something right then, I guess. She asked me if I would tell her some of the
stories I'd been telling her brothers while she brought herself off. I wanted
to be a good sister, so I said 'sure.'  She's kneeling on top of her bed in
her underwear and I start telling her about my sexy cousin - the one that
took me to the caves and licked me. She's casually stroking her tits and I'm
wondering how long she's planning on taking. Then she asked me, "Why don't
you play with yours, too?"  I said I wasn't horny, which was a lie, but then
she said that she couldn't do it unless I'm doing it too, reassuring me that
 it was perfectly normal for sisters to masturbate together. Even though I
wasn't really interested in lezzing off with her, it seemed to be some kind
of bonding thing to her, so I licked my fingers and put my hand in my panties
before going back to my story. Finally her hand disappears into the fly on
her pajama bottoms. Her eyes were glued to my pubic area. I guess it was kind
of exciting when I saw her wrist going around and in and out of her pajamas.
Knowing that she was going to have an orgasm from watching me made me want to
put on a show for her by playing with myself wilder than I actually do when
I'm just trying to cum. I thrust my hips back and forth and shook my hair
around, and I scraped my teeth across my lower lip, then across her nipples.
That made her cum pretty fast. I still hadn't came, but I was just going to
let it go, happy to have been her little fantasy that evening. I laid down
next to her to sleep.
    She was lonely and wanted a steady relationship I think. A few minutes
later she slid her hand in my panties and got me off, too. I figured that she
had definitely played with quite a few girls before because she kept me on
the verge of climax for at least five minutes. It wasn't until I tried to
push her hand away so I could get myself off that she changed what she was
doing and bang! Like magic I came instantly.
     The next night she asked me if I'd like to get into the same bed so that
we could play with each other under the covers and tell sexy stories.  I was
horny, and she had this puppy dog look on her face, so I agreed. It was the
first time I ever felt another warm body in bed with me, much less played
with another girl's pussy, but I liked it right away.  She definitely liked
taking charge, though. She told me rub her clit around and she would tell me
about a cute boy at her school.  I pushed her clit around in little circles
the way she liked, and she started telling me sexy stories about GIRLS in her
school!  Up until then I had thought she was just lonely or bisexual at the
most, but then I knew she was a lesbian.  She clamped her mouth over my right
nipple and began sucking, but it was still too soft; like a feather. We
hugged and kissed for a long time, and I think I ended up getting her off 3
or 4 times.
    At school the next day I started paying attention to the girls as well as
the boys, and for the first time I began to see girls the way men do. I felt
like I understood men a lot better. After just the couple of nights that I
slept with her it was like being born all over again as a man. Twice that day
I wound up touching a girl in a sexual way that I would never have done the
week before. The first girl was a freshman that I'd never seen before. She
started out asking me about the school and teachers. While she's talking I
noticed that she had pretty large breasts for her age. I also noticed that
two of the buttons on her sweater had popped open just beneath her breasts. I
know from her angle she couldn't know they were open because she was so big
on top. Rather than interrupt her, I thought I'd just do them for her, just
to be friendly. She kept right on talking but the buttons were really hard to
do and my hands were kind of all over her. Then I found myself tingling as I
pulled the front of her sweater together, which also pushed her breasts up
and together to give her more cleavage. I pulled and they squished up against
each other like nothing else I'd seen. My breasts have always been very firm
cones because I kept them in a bra almost constantly. I was kind of bouncing
them around in her sweater as I wrestled the second button into it's loop. I
noticed that she wasn't talking anymore. I looked up at her face and she was
covering her eyes and blushing crimson. We were in the gym but I glanced
around and no one was watching. I told her I was sorry but that no one saw
anything. She's still covering her eyes. Then in a whisper that I could
barely hear she asked me if I had any idea how that made her feel. I wasn't
 sure what she was thinking. Did she mean that I made her feel like an
object, or made her horny, or what. I got my answer when the next thing she
asked me is if she could touch mine!  I glanced around again and told her OK,
but she didn't want to do it there. She wanted to meet after school in the
girl's bathroom. I said sure. I waited in the bathroom for a while, but I
think she lost her nerve. I saw her the next day and when I least expected it
she reached over and grabbed my breast. She gives it a couple of squeezes and
says 'There, how do you like it?' like she's upset. I felt sorry for the poor
boys that have to deal with this.
    Later that same afternoon I was talking to a friend of a friend that's a
senior. She had on a low cut top with pretty nice cleavage. When she bent
over to pick up a book from her chair I reached over and pulled her shirt
down a little more so I could see inside. She looked starteled then asked me
what I was doing. I told her that I thought she was pretty and I just wanted
a better view. It was about half an inch from starting a catfight when her
boyfriend showed up. Luckily she got mad at him for being turned on by what
I'd done and she forgot all about me as she started hitting him. That moment
made a big impression on me.
    When I walked around school and saw these little pink and blonde fluffy
girl-animals, I realized how unfair the world was for men and how much self
control they had to have. I had a fresh perspective on everything and I even
started feeling sorry for rapists. In a way they were only doing what every
male would want to do if he dared lose control for a minute. The same went
for someone copping a feel. Why was everyone so hung up, anyway?  Getting
felt up feels good to both the person doing it and the person having it done
to them, so why pretend it hurts?
    I wasn't the only girl that saw other girls as fun toys, either. When
Karen came by to pick me up from school one day in the car, she had a
girlfriend with her. This new girl was more the dyke type, and I wasn't
really attracted to her. When I got in the back seat, Karen's dykey friend
got out of the front seat and into the back seat with me.  She said that
Karen had told her I was thinking of joining their 'special girls club', and
they both laughed.  Then she said she was practically the president of the
club and that she would have examine me to see if I met their entrance
qualifications.
    Then she gave me a big grin and put her hand on my breast. This was right
after I'd decided to set an example of how people should enjoy touching each
other, so even though I didn't really find this girl attractive because she
had braces and a old sweatshirt on, I went along with her game asking her
coyly, 'Are you going to have to examine my breasts?'  I looked down at her
hands and they were as big as a man's. She kept her eyes on my chest and said
'uh-huh', then as she ran her hands over me she told me that Karen had told
her that I liked rough sex. She started being a little more aggressive,
especially pulling on my tits. I started thinking there was something sexy
about her. She was pretty small, maybe 5'2" with a freckle face and braces
that made her look a lot younger than she was and she had these enormous
strong looking hands. In fact, she was being pretty rough. I remember saying
'Ouch!' a few times while she was 'examining me'. Even though I had my
clothing on I was feeling it. You would never guess it if you saw her on the
street. I wondered just what Karen had told her. She pushed her right index
finger down into my cleavage and found the strap that joins the cups in the
front. Then she shook my bust around by jerking on my bra like it was a
harness. All the time she's bouncing me around in my bra she keeps saying
things like, 'Sweet Jesus! That's some nice sweater meat!'  She was cussing
like a drunken sailor. I remember  her asking me if I liked to be 'whipped up
top?' a few times, but I didn't figure out what she was talking about until
later.
    I was starting to get nervous when she told me she fantasized about doing
body piercing. That was nothing new - Pakistan is probably one of the world
centers for piercing. But she dreamed about doing it on an unwilling person
with a screwdriver, or even an electric drill!  Something about the glint in
her eye told me she wasn't putting me on. I tried to tell her that I wasn't
into her lesbian S&M trip, but she was having too much fun daydreaming out
loud to pay any attention. So I just sat there looking out the car window to
get my mind off of her words while she went on in agonizing detail.
    She pulled me onto her lap and one of her big hands was stroking my thigh
and the other one was up under my sweater feeling my boobs. She was still
being pretty rough with me, but it was feeling good. When she started
pinching them all over I had the best cum I think I ever had. Then I thought
about the way American girls can't stand having their tits handled too rough
and  I wondered whether she had been trying to make me cum or actually
thought that she was torturing me like her body piercing fantasies.
    We were almost back home when she put my hand between her legs. She
leaned forward and in a pathetic whimpering voice she breathed in my ear,
'Please?  Please?' meaning that she wanted me to play with her. I saw Karen
smiling at me in the rear view mirror, so I rubbed the crotch of her jeans a
few times before pulling my hand back. Then she unzips herself and stuffs my
hand down the front of her pants. I'm obliging enough to do her then she
starts yelling at me like, 'Do it right, bitch!  Don't you know how to make a
girl cum?' But then it couldn't have been that bad because she started
fidgeting around on the seat. Then she put her hands on my shoulders and told
 me not to stop. I was really worried that someone inside would hear her cum
because we were in the driveway and she's screaming, 'Oh, my god! Pinch my
tits! Someone pinch my tits!'
     When I went inside and took off my bra I couldn't believe what I saw in
the bathroom mirror. I had black and blue marks all over my breasts where
she'd been pinching mine!  Despite the orgasm, I decided I was no lesbian. I
didn't like being scared, and for a long time I associated the hardcore S&M
scene with lesbians.
    I came out of the shower to hear Karen and her friend talking in my room.
Karen was telling her that she didn't think she could talk me into getting
anything pierced by her, and she wasn't taking no for an answer. I didn't
want to go in there and I told my father I needed a separate room right away.
For some reason he didn't argue. I guess he could guess something had
happened."
    She ended up getting moved into the room with her younger brother, but
that's another story for another time.


















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