so can you just stop the assumptions Back at the very end of my senior year of high school I decided that I wanted to try smoking. I liked the idea of inhaling and exhaling smoke, it seemed like a visually beautiful and relaxing activity. I asked someone to try and get us marijuana since I knew he could probably get it fairly easily. I started smoking 3 or 4 times a week for a little over 2 months and stopped the week before going off to college. Now, during my senior year I also had quite a bit of stuff happen. Early in the year, my family found out that my father (whom had visitation rights for me and my older brother when we were young) had molested me more than a few times over the course of several years. I had gotten over it, but my family wanted me to go to counseling after they found out. A few months later I got news that my father had committed suicide. Although I was upset, I felt more at ease and not so bad for avoiding him. It didn't take me long to accept it. My father's death was about 2 months before I had the idea to smoke. I went to visit my councilor a little while into starting college and we ended up talking about how I had smoked marijuana. She seemed concerned and was hinting at the idea that I may have done it to "escape" or as a way of coping with the events of my senior year. I tried to explain to her that was not the reasoning, but she seemed doubtful. She's not the only one who thinks that I smoked to "escape" I'm not easily offended, but this is something that really gets to me. There is an assumption that "it was all too much" and that I felt the need to resort to a false sense of happiness. This isn't true at all and I wish people would stop viewing it that way. I understand that there are people who fall prey to this, but I am not that weak or pathetic. I smoked because I wanted to, not because I was depressed, stressed, or pressured into it. It was my own decision, be it not the smartest one, that I took action on.

so can you just stop the assumptions Back at the very end of my senior year of high school I decided that I wanted to try smoking. I liked the idea of inhaling and exhaling smoke, it seemed like a visually beautiful and relaxing activity. I asked someone to try and get us marijuana since I knew he could probably get it fairly easily. I started smoking 3 or 4 times a week for a little over 2 months and stopped the week before going off to college. Now, during my senior year I also had quite a bit of stuff happen. Early in the year, my family found out that my father (whom had visitation rights for me and my older brother when we were young) had molested me more than a few times over the course of several years. I had gotten over it, but my family wanted me to go to counseling after they found out. A few months later I got news that my father had committed suicide. Although I was upset, I felt more at ease and not so bad for avoiding him. It didn't take me long to accept it. My father's death was about 2 months before I had the idea to smoke. I went to visit my councilor a little while into starting college and we ended up talking about how I had smoked marijuana. She seemed concerned and was hinting at the idea that I may have done it to "escape" or as a way of coping with the events of my senior year. I tried to explain to her that was not the reasoning, but she seemed doubtful. She's not the only one who thinks that I smoked to "escape" I'm not easily offended, but this is something that really gets to me. There is an assumption that "it was all too much" and that I felt the need to resort to a false sense of happiness. This isn't true at all and I wish people would stop viewing it that way. I understand that there are people who fall prey to this, but I am not that weak or pathetic. I smoked because I wanted to, not because I was depressed, stressed, or pressured into it. It was my own decision, be it not the smartest one, that I took action on.
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For 25 years I was my father's sex toy. From age 7 he used me sexually. Making me give him head. He took my virginity when I was 9, he demand sex several times a day. When my periods started my ass was fucked. He forced me do every disgusting sex act you can think of. Using my pussy, mouth and ass for what ever got him off. He passed me around to other men, made me fuck dogs and made me do porn to earn money turn me in to a BDSM slave. The worst part is he trained my body to always cum while doing these fucking things. It got to the point that no matter how he used me I began having squirting orgasms. One time in a mall I was 15 and looked at another boy, he pulled me aside and slapped hard several times and I came soaking my mini skirt. He never let me wear panties so my skirt was completely wet, then he made me walk to parking lot . I was so humiliated stand there waiting for the elevator I came again as he had trained me to be a bottom how craved humiliation. Last winter he died, and I was free. But at 33 I'm completely fuck up. I never went to high school or had friends. And have no family. I've tried sex with a dozen men since he died, but I can't cum or get wet. The bastard has made it impossible to cum without him. I hate him for making me this way. But I hate myself even more for wanting his touch again, for wanting to be abused by him for being a worthless slave in love with her master. Why did you have to die Daddy, I miss you so much.

For 25 years I was my father's sex toy. From age 7 he used me sexually. Making me give him head. He ...