I was 12 years old, the age of the first surges in hormones and not even a penis hair yet. Like many kids, I liked to fiddle with my friends' cocks and that's what made me discover the white juice among the earliest ones when I didn't squirt it yet, but it wasn't ok. further away. But also, without really knowing why, probably out of fetishism, I began to dress up secretly by borrowing my mother's lingerie and I strutted about for a long time in front of a mirror with my panties down, my bird hidden between my thighs. I already had long enough hair to create an illusion and soon enough I felt like offering myself to others by showing myself in front of my bedroom window. At first, I remained cautious all the same and it didn't help much until the day when renovation work began in the building opposite. One of the painters noticed my ride and started staring at me pointedly. Heart pounding, I lifted my little satin slip to the waist, watching for her reaction. He continued to stare fixedly and after a moment of hesitation, his back turned, leaning well forward, I slid the panties down to my ankles, squirming viciously. When I wanted to see his reaction, he had disappeared and I had a moment of annoyance, but five minutes later he rang the doorbell, which, in my candor, I had absolutely not imagined and I started to sweat with anguish thinking that if I opened, I was in danger of taking the biggest beating of my life, but he insisted so much that I ended up doing it for fear that he would stir up the neighbors. When he came in, I wasn't leading off, but I reassured myself when he saw him take off his work suit, under which he was completely naked and had a hard-on like a bull. It was the first time I had seen an adult sex and even if objectively it was just a little bigger than average, the size and especially the thickness far exceeded those of my little comrades. I reached out a shy hand to start jerking him off but he pushed me away and without a word dragged me to my room. I had no idea about anal practices and when, flat on my stomach on my bed I felt that he wanted to introduce his club into my little orifice I tried to protest but I couldn't get a sound out. One should not expect softness from a Maghrebian and this one was no exception. He forced my opening dry without the slightest regard despite my cries of pain and once returned the glans he sank with all his weight flush with the balls in my little body paralyzed on the verge of syncope. I've known a lot of men who enjoy three round trips but he enjoyed pounding me for a good quarter of an hour, interrupting himself ...

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