From as early as I can remember, I was curious about cocks. Like right now, there’s this random guy standing several feet away, probably not even aware of me, and I’m wondering what his cock looks like and I’m wondering what it would be like to get fucked by him. If you’re a guy, I know that just made your dick really hard if it wasn’t already. Or at least gave you a chub.
I don’t know if I have some repressed memory before this, but one of my earliest memorieskind of has to do with cock.
kind of has to do with cock.
One time, my mom hosted a Tupperware party. People began to show up but it didn’t really start until after she put me to bed. As curiosity sometimes does to kids, mine made me have to pee. I had to cross the living room to get from my room to the bathroom. I was only wearing underwear but this was pre-boobs or any worries about modesty. This was probably not long after becoming completely toilet-trained.
I went and did my business and then some. What actually happened was I tried to pee standing up. For whatever reason. I can only assume I saw someone do it at some point and it probably fascinated me.
Pee went everywhere–down my legs, on the floor, and all over my underwear. So I wiped up what I could and tried to soak up the pee on my underwear with some toilet paper. They were still wet so I grabbed more toilet paper.
When I finished and came out of the bathroom, all of the ladies were busy admiring and chattering about the airtight snappiness of the hard plastic leftover containers available in an array of hideous colors. But as I walked by, they all looked up and a hush fell over the room.
My mother’s eyes popped and jaw dropped in horror, as I confidently sauntered past all bowlegged cowboy style, hands on hips, and paraded around, pelvis jutted forward accentuating my humongous bulge. Of toilet paper stuffed in my underwear.
I don’t remember my mother ever having friends over again throughout my entire childhood.