Meh... I missed it, oh well story time!

I am a proud descendant of one of "The Great American Families," the origin of our wealth came from oil, but these days most members of my family are bankers/investors/vagabonds. We're not Rockefeller rich, but my father is on the forbes 400 and chances are you've heard our last name.

The reason I bring this up is because that name recognition is a pain in the ass - I've been kidnapped by professionals twice and raped by at least two women(I'm not sure if I should just count the ones that I entered or include the ones in the room who helped them) on two separate occasions.

I was a newly minted teenager enjoying my winter break - so basically I was getting belligerent drunk and avoiding my family like the plague. I was getting to know this local girl, who was a little older than me, when my buddy starts winging for me - "do you know who his father is?" Anyway, she found out - literally squealed with her friends and started chasing me all night (A chill just ran up my spine thinking about it.)

Now, I was probably game to fool around a little - but at the time I was a virgin. After the second time I ended the makeout her friends just kept plying me with shitty Canadian whiskey until I couldn't feel my face. Three of her friends then escorted me into one of the back rooms under the guise of "help [me] rest... [I] got out of control." A couple minutes later the original girl came in, stripped my clothes off and fucked me on the billiards table. Bareback.

Yeah, that was the goal, to have my fucking baby - after the first round one of her friends "helped me" get it back up for round two... but eventually it wasn't worth their time and they left me naked on the table. The next morning I got up and was high fived by two of my buddies to a chorus of "About damn time! - Chick is a freak, right? - Did you fuck'er in the ass?"

When I talked to my mom about it the next day she said that I did it to myself; I drank too much and anything that happened to me because I put myself in a bad situation was my own damn fault.

I didn't handle the whole situation well and ultimately spent the next few years fucking any girl with a pulse. My therapist said that I was trying to regain control, but honestly I think that sex was cheapened for me to the point where it meant nothing... it felt good and I was good at it - why should I wait for someone special when the universe didn't wait for me?

I kept this routine up until and partway through college; I've lost count of how many girls I've fucked, fucking my way through South America and southern Europe, but I've never forgotten my first...