I often found myself thinking what could I have done differently. It seemed impossible for someone like me to be a virgin at twenty-five, but here I was. The prettiest girl in the district, and still untouched.

When I say untouched, I don't mean no one ever touched me. I just never had a penis inside me. The saddest part was, I wanted it. I dreamed about it every day. Even now, I fantasized about someone pumping between my spread legs.

I needed someone to take control and push me over the edge. Someone who wouldn't stop when I changed my mind. I needed a determined man with experience and not some noble boy who only thought about not hurting my feelings.

Even my unrestrained mother started taking an interest in my love life. Looking for young men, and women she thought I would fancy. Often urging me to go with her to one of her's carnal parties where everyone had sex with everyone. It was infuriating having to listen to her talk about it.

Being the only half-elf around I always drew more attention to myself then I liked, and looking as attractive as I did meant not only men came after me, but also women.

Twenty-six years ago, my amazing mother, who I loved and admired very much, returned from one of her adventures pregnant. For as long as she could, she kept the fact that I was conceived with a human a secret.

As years went on it became more apparent who my father was. I had plenty of elven features, but with age, my human side grew too blatant to hide.

I was as tall and lean as any other elven female, but my wide, feminine hips, and soft, plump, heart-shaped ass, betrayed my human side. Nobody could mistake my facial features for anything but those of a wood elf, except for my full, red lips and my father's freckles. All that combined with my large, swooping tits, I was the most exotic thing most young men bothering me encountered in their short, uneventful lives.

Mother and I lived in a modest, two-story house in the most crowded part of the biggest elven city on the Great Lake. Most folks living in the lowest of the three districts were respectable, hard-working elves. Blacksmiths, woodworkers, weaponsmiths, tailors, glass blowers, bowyers, arcanists and many more. We made the backbone of our society, and that made the upper caste respect us.

I was apprenticing at the famous Brylar distillery, and according to Mr. Brylar, I was his most promising student. I had my doubts about his honesty, though. His son, Delmuth Brylar, was one of many young men competing for my attention. Sometimes, It seemed where ever I went, someone was going after my plump ass.

Mother burst through the front door, followed by three mildly drunk soldiers from the Upper City. There was one other profession that made the aristocracy respect the women from the Lower City.

I've read somewhere that prostitution wasn't as common among the elves as it was among humans. Well, my unusual mother was unquestionably trying to prove that statement wrong. She was by far the best looking woman I known and by far the most hardworking.

"Hello, daughter," She said, pretending to be drunk.

"Hello, mother," I replied, pretending not to realize. "I presume you want me to leave the house?"

"Not if you ask me," One of the soldiers said playfully. "You can join us for sure, girl."

My mother slapped his crotch lightly, making him wince. "That remark pushes you to the back of the line, Goren."

"Shit!" He said slapping his forehead. "Can I buy my way in front?"

"Hmm?" Mother murmured. "One hundred pieces."

"Saved, brothers," He exclaimed, and everyone laughed.

I envied my mother. Taking different men to bed every day, without giving a damn what other folks thought about it, and making a living out of it. Sometimes it seemed she wasn't only the prettiest but the smartest woman in town as well.

"I think I'll go after all," I said, although I would not complain if the three of them ditched my mother and jumped on me. I left the house before the bed upstairs started squeaking, thinking about how would it feel to have drunk soldiers ravage my virgin body.