Hey again! I feel like talking about my erotica stories again. I’ve been kinda stuck in a slump lately, or more so, ‘writer’s block‘. Its partially because I’m very busy with my five kids, housework, and business things but I’ve been stumped about some things as far as my life time story.
So, if you’re someone who’s been following me since my old Blogger page, you’ve probably seen my posts about my Jenni character and how she came about. However, that blog has been deleted because I wanted to start over and didn’t want to look at old thoughts from 5-6 years ago anymore. That being said, I need to re-write that whole Jenni thing and tell you guys how she came about because some people have actually asked me how she came about.
Well, let’s start from my childhood because that’s where it began. I was born and raised in NY for the first 10 years of my life. Prior to being 12 years old, I don’t remember being molested or anything. But for whatever the reason, I was naturally a very sexually-minded child.
It was about 4th grade when I did well on some school test and my parents wanted to reward me. I think it was a spelling test. I’d always excelled in spelling, or anything language related. I still remember the day like it was yesterday. My dad picked me up from my school in Brooklyn and we drove to Queens to pick up my mom from her job at a private school. My baby sis went to work with her instead of daycare. Lucky!
After that, we stopped at this small thrift store. I don’t remember if we’d ever gone in there before, but I found this ADORABLE little Indian baby doll wrapped up in plastic there. I LOVED that doll. She had caramel colored skin, long black hair fixed into two braids, and an Indian themed brown outfit with colorful square-shaped fringes. She even had little brown moccasins and an Indian headband on. It was one of those cotton dolls where the shoes were sewn on and the eyes could open and close. My mom bought it for me as the reward.
I immediately named the doll Jenny, after my best friend/best cousin, Jennifer who lived in Queens that I didn’t get to see as often as I’d liked. That came natural. I didn’t change her name to Jenni with an I until later on in adulthood, but oh well, that’s irrelevant to the story. So I clung to that doll for dear life every day. I slept with it and became a little obsessed over it like most kids do with their dolls. I started having dreams about her. Literally. I’d always had a colorful imagination, a very weird one. I started dreaming that Jenni was a rich little kid who was spoiled rotten but was very beautiful and got every boy she wanted.
I don’t know how I started thinking so much about sex at such a young age. I was only about 8-9 years old. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that when I asked my mom the dreaded “where do babies come from” question, she went too far explaining the mechanics to me… at 6 years old when she was preggo with my sis. She literally showed me a book about sex that wasn’t exactly kid friendly and it showed a dick inside of a pussy as a scientific illustration. Later on, I became obsessed with the book, too.
I kind of figured that I was ‘special’ when I wrote my crush a note in school that said, “I love you Randy. I want to have sex with you.” Sad for me, my teacher caught me trying to pass it to him and I got caught, and she showed it to my dad when he picked me up at the end of the day. I got the biggest ass whipping ever. Fuck.
But anyway, for some reason, my mind stayed thinking and dreaming about sex. I literally had dreams of me fucking that Randy in the middle of the classroom with the whole class watching, even though he didn’t even know I existed. Looking back on that now, either someone else molested me at some point and I don’t remember or I was exposed to something that I wasn’t supposed to be exposed to at a young age and don’t remember. Jenni was my little escape from being bullied at school and whatever other troubles I was going through at the time as a nerdy, little New Yorker child. Jenni was supposedly five years old, or at least that what I’d envisioned at the time. Don’t ask me why, I have no fucking clue why my mind was conjuring up this stuff.
Like I said, Jenni was a rich light skinned brat who had an older brother that she loved to kiss and fool around with. She lived in a mansion, because as a kid, I had a HUGE obsession with mansions. I don’t know why. I think that’s some kind of past life of mine that I haven’t quite figured out yet. I kept dreaming about Jenni’s life through this doll for years. Called it a ‘yeardream’. We moved to Georgia when I was 10 and the dreams continued. I think I still had the doll, don’t quite remember. Jenni continued to be my escape from life. But I loved it. I don’t think I ever told my mom about these dreams.
When I was 11-12, my dad started slowly molesting me. Started with my mind. He’d pick me up from school and show my these small porn magazines. Asked me what I liked in them and told me not to tell my mom. I didn’t know what to do about it. So I kept my mouth shut. I saw all kinds of naked women. That was when my Jenni dreams started getting more and more explicit. Jenni hadn’t actually had sex yet, as she was only 5, but she didn’t look 5 in my head and she sure didn’t act like it. She was the sexually mischievous girl who forced every innocent boy in her class to kiss her and lift up her dresses. Her parents couldn’t stop her because she’d cuss them out and throw shit at them. Very unruly child, indeed.
From the porn magazines came the porn videos. He’d store random VHS tapes under the TV stand in the back so my mom wouldn’t find them and force me to watch them when she was gone. I was scared for my life. Then came the light touching. I fought to no avail. My dad was over 300-450 lbs and has been for as long as I can remember. From the porn movies, it eventually got to him waiting till my mom was in bed asleep and then sneaking into my room at night to molest me. He started off bringing me into the living room to do it so my little sis wouldn’t wake up and suspect anything, considering we shared a room. That part of my life was utterly horrible. Full of fear and anxiety.
These acts made my Jenni dreams WAY more explicit, quite naturally. I went from sex princess to sex QUEEN. I was still a virgin, but I felt like I knew everything about sex at that point. I went to school and my sexuality was more heightened. Had major boy crushes. Very obsessive ones. In middle school, after reading a kid’s book called “There’s a Boy in The Girl’s Bathroom”, I had an idea to create my own book with the same title, but reversed. It was erotic. I was only 12-13. I was always a writer, so my first ‘erotic’ story was one where a boy and a girl who started out hating one another finally fell for one another, but every time they tried to have sex, they’d sneak into the school bathrooms and try to go for it. They’d always get caught and kicked out. This happened a couple of times till one day, they got caught and their parents pulled them out of school and dropped them off at a mansion where they could have all the sex they wanted (again with the mansions!). They had a ton of kids there.
Very random, silly story, right? LOL
Anyway, fast forward to now, that’s where Jenni came from. That’s where the name Jennirotika came from. Five years of molestation brought Jenni through a lot of adventures and phases of life, many of which I started to write in my notebooks after school when my mom wasn’t around. The original title I gave it was “Jenni, Five year old Freak”. Although it made no sense that Jenni was five years old doing the things she was doing, she finally had sex one day… with her own brother. Yes, incest was ‘surprisingly’ involved here, probably a product of my dad molesting me for five years.
My Jenni dreams were crushed completely because when my mom found out about them in high school, she went ballistic and threw them into our garbage can outside. This was before the abuse came out. But even after it did, I never saw those books again. When it did come out, they were showed to a detective at the police station as proof that I’d been molested, but they were still taken from me, never to be seen again. My mom stopped the investigation against my dad at the time because she’d thought about it for a while and foolishly convinced me to lie about the abuse… and that was that. We eventually ended up all back home like one big happy family. -___-
He didn’t molest me anymore, but he continued to be abusive in other ways. Especially after I met my hubby, who was my first actual boyfriend in college.
I was furious about my Jenni books being gone forever. I’d written a LOT. I’d filled up so many of those little regal 80 page notebooks that it wasn’t even funny. I was known for my stories in high school, even though none of the students recognized that I was kind of crying out for help, writing the way I was. My stories were explicit, and for someone who hadn’t ever had sex, I sure knew how to portray the sounds and how it was done. Too much unwilling exposure to porn, perhaps?
Time went on and I got married, but by then, I’d stopped writing erotica. Tried to get it out of my head. I was trying to be a good Christian as I always was, before I said, fuck Christianity. The one thing that kept me sane throughout my abused years was stripped from me violently. It took about 8 years of marriage for me to have a damn epiphany and say, you know what? NOTHING is stopping me anymore from writing these Jenni stories. I had missed her so badly. I knew Jenni. Like Jenni was ME. I needed her. Some kind of alter ago or something. Split personality. Whatever it was, I’d missed her. So about two years ago, I told my hubby that I was going to attempt writing them again even though it had been so long and he motivated me to go after it. I’d never felt better.
During that time, I wrote for a couple of months. Jenni’s personality spilled back into my head. I changed her from 5 years old, of course, and made her 17, but I may make her 18 instead so I won’t get any flack from society about her still being a minor and fucking every guy that crossed her path. It was almost as if she’d never left my head, even though it had been a very long time of being out of touch with it. But I can’t help it. I love writing about sex. That’s always been me. That’s what I’m good at. Fucking sue me already.
I’ve always wanted to actually publish something. But I was brainwashed into the Christian fiction shit because my mom was a Christian fiction author. I was told to write the way she wrote her published novels. I HATED it. I couldn’t even get past writing 50 pages in those stories where I’d get bored as fuck and put it down for how long. I couldn’t get into that hypocritical bullshit. That was NOT my style of writing. The whole marriage, I struggled hard with my writing because I was stuck cleansing my mind of the mindset I was raised with to form my own way of thinking. Took me long enough, but I have successfully done so and I couldn’t be happier.
So, as far as the writer’s block that I mentioned in the beginning of this post, it’s because I am kind of a stalemate with Jenni. I wrote two short stories about after having this epiphany with one being ‘completed’, but I often have a hard time coming up with new sex adventures for her. And that’s probably because I was broken as far as my writing. Having it mindlessly thrown in the trash after all those years of work damaged me. I wanted to be a young Zane. Also, I’m older now and my creativity isn’t as fresh as it used to me. My time now is used to help my kids develop THEIR imaginations instead, while my mind is bombarded with homeschool schedules and meal plans. But it’s okay. Going through these memories today helped me rethink a lot. Jenni hasn’t gone anywhere. She’s still around and back in action, running the Richmond household in California with her boyfriend, Fudgie and her bipolar tendencies. I will get back into writing her stories soon, because in some weird way, writing about her helps me heal. 😉
See a few Jenni excerpts (and also porn pics & vids LOL) at jennirotika.tumblr.com