I was an only child, with a single father, and a “Latchkey kid.”
So, my daddy was away at work when I got home from school, or I went over to friend’s houses. In elementary school, we didn’t care about boys, and girls. We’re just kids, but most boys didn’t have “No girls allowed” clubs to kick you out of.
Some did, but I had dolls, and dishes at home. I mean, most girls liked to play tea party, house, babydolls, Barbies, and ponies with each other. I played those too, with my dolls. So, I guess I started hanging out with boys, because they had different toys, and games I couldn’t play at home, alone.
With my dollies, and dishes, it’s weird to me how girls get together, and fight over the blonde one. (When there was a blonde one, instead of all of us bringing our Barbie Dolls.) Or the pink dishes, or the stuffed pony with the rainbow mane, or whatever was the prettiest with the most sparkles.
So, I became a Tomboy, daddy bought me pants, and overalls along with skirts, and dresses for me to mix, and match. I wasn’t one of the boys, I had no problem wearing a fuscia spaghetti strap top with sparkles all over it under the bib of a pair of overalls. When I started 6th grade, I got a short haircut, because my hair was wrecked, split ends up to my ears, and tangled up snarls from climbing trees, and crawling through bushes with the boys.
I also started puberty, but only in the nipples, so I couldn’t wear overalls any more. I was 11, so starting to wear training bras, and even through that, the bib rubbed the sensitive tissues the wrong way when I twisted, or stretched at all.
So, I went over to a girl’s house, in jeans cut off to the knees. They’d busted out at the knees from crawling around in them, and I just took a pair of scissors to cut off the back. Polly Pocket underpants that came in a pack, a plain white teeshirt, and a training bra on underneath.
“Hey, Debby.” My friend’s big brother looked in on us, so I let her have her Barbie Jeep back, and stopped making truck noises.
“Hey, Tommy. What’s up?” My friend just took Barbie up to walk up the stairs of her Malibu dollhouse, but this sort of thing happened all the time. We’re friends, so she knew that I’d run off to play with boys, pretty much whenever I saw them at the park, or whatever.
“You must be twelve now,” he put his arm up, in the doorway, so i looked away from his armpit, sticking out of his tank top. He was about 15, so he had a little hair under it, but I didn’t see any caked on deodorant, or anything.
“Almost.” I shook my head, “Not until October, but in a couple months?” I nodded.
“So,” he put his arm down, and shut the door. “I bet you’re starting to notice the other girls your age starting to grow up into young ladies?” He pulled out a drawer on his dresser, and set it up on top.
“Some of them.” I shook my head, but not his little sister. I guess she was still too young to call a “Late Bloomer” in 4th grade, but I knew 5th, and 6th graders who were showing even more than me, and even complained about That Time Of The Month?
He pulled out a magazine, he had under the drawer, and sat down on the bed. “Like this?”
2 girls kissing, but with long hair, and fingernails.
“Oh, no. None of them have big bras like that.” Looked like C cups if I’m anyone to judge, but then he turned the page, and leaned back. On his elbow, he rubbed his crotch looking at pictures of them taking off their bras, squeezing boobs, rubbing nipples, kissing, and licking them.
He looked up, “You ever wanted to kiss a girl like that?”
“Oh, hahah, no.” I shook my head, “I like boys.” I nodded.
“Like me?” He left the Lady Love magazine on the bed, and sat up to take his shirt off.
“Yeah, you’re really cool, and.” I looked down, his half naked body.
“You want me to kiss you?” He stood up, and I nodded.
“Mhm?” Biting my lip, he picked me up, and turned around, to brush the magazine off the bed, and start kissing me. Untucking my shirt, and feeling up my tummy to my training bra. My nipples, which had obtuse little cones under them now, but flattened out by the tight training bra. “Huh!” I turned away, to breathe, and let him kiss my cheek. My neck, and said “Let me take this shirt off.”
“Okay,” he stepped back, and turned to look when the doorknob rattled.
“Thomas, what are you doing?”
“None of your business,” he pushed it back, and leaned up against it. Holding the knob so she couldn’t rattle it. So, she beat on it. “SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND, YOU JERKHEAD!” Maybe she called him a jerkwad, it was hard to tell yelled through the door like that.
“No, she’s not. If you wanted to make a move on her you had your chance.”
“Well, let me in, or I’m calling mom!”
“No, don’t do that!” She ran down the hall, so he left the door open to chase after, and I just sat there. On the bed, in my training bra, and cutoff shorts.
“Huh!” Now the training bra felt hot, so I pulled that off, and sniffed my pit. “Huh!” I had a little hair sprouting under there, I never noticed before, so I felt it with my fingertip. Just one, so I turned, and put my arm up. Checked the other one until they came back.
“Hey, you mind if I join you two?” She asked, smiling. Also blushing all over her face, and down her neck.
“Okay,” I had no idea she was gay for me, but I had no concept of gay girls until a few minutes ago when Tommy showed them to me. Let alone bi-curiosity, which just wasn’t a thing people talked about, where I could overhear it.
“Go on.” I got up, and Tommy put his hands up, on our shoulders. “Kiss.” Just like Barbie, and Ken, only 2 girls. One with barely a hair under one arm, and the other with nothing to show for puberty, at all. She was 9, in 4th grade, so maybe about to start thinking about adolescence, sometime over the next couple of years, but looking back.
It’s pretty obvious where she got her bicuriosity from. Her brother called me her girlfriend, as a joke. One of those joke/not jokes that’s wishful thinking, but if it turns out to be true, then that’s awesome. If not, he can laugh it off, and say it was “Just a joke.”
“Uh!” Then, he unzipped his pants, and his sister shook her head. “Ew, Thomas!” She ran out, before he finished fishing his boner out.
“Oh well,” he shut the door, “I guess it’s just you, and me then.” He just molested me, I mean he didn’t have any straight porn, or softcore mainstream stuff like Penthouse with the dick pointed in the general direction of the naked lady, or one of her holes.
Of course, I knew the basics, even though I didn’t have a mom, to have the talk. I had friends, with periods, and maxi pads. Moms or big sisters, so they told me where babies come from, and how they get there pretty much as soon as they found out. That’s where most girls found out before middle school, when we had Health class, and sex ed.
He felt me up a lot, especially my nipples, and ant mounds. He felt my butt, and squeezed the cheeks through my pants until they got too hot. So, I unbuttoned them, and let them drop, so he could rub me through my panties.
I didn’t care, I had his dick to play with. I didn’t even try to put it in my mouth, I just pulled it down to let go, so it bounced back up, and made his balls swing. So, I held his hairy balls in one hand, and rolled them around. Holding his dick in the other and until he pulled my panties down in back. Still rubbing a finger in the front, but just up, and down the back. Pinching my lips around it with his middle 3 fingers.
Then, he grabbed my hand, and pumped it, “Like this.” I nodded, having seen boys go through the motions. Like an air guitar, only 1 handed, and a magic invisible dick. “Huh, yeah!” He just jerked off with my hand. “UH! HUH!” He sat down on the bed, and it slipped out of my fingers. Already twitching, and spitting straight up, but he shook, and his knees knocked together.
“Oh!” He lay back, and turned sideways when he stopped cumming. “Oh god, that was great.”
“Huh,” I felt his hairy leg, and a little splat that stuck to it. “Okay,” I sniffed it on my fingers, then stuck out my tongue to taste it. “Um, thanks?” I grabbed my clothes, and went out to get dressed in the halls.
“Deborah.” She never called me that once, in our whole time as friends. “Um, you’re not going to tell anyone, I kissed you?” She held onto the doorway, with just her head sticking out.
“No, I’m sorry I fooled around with your brother.” I already pulled up my shorts and underwear, from waddling them out with them down around my shoes.
“Huh, it’s okay, but I’m sorry I thought you’re gay.” She looked up at my hair.
I shrugged, “It’s okay, I guess.” She didn’t call her mom at work, and tattle on him, for molesting me. She waited until they got home, so he was grounded, and her mom had to take me home.
“I’m sorry about what happened, but.”
“What? I had a great time.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, I got to make out with a hot boy and.”
“Well,” she interrupted, “You’re not going to brag about this to any of your friends, or anything?”
“No, of course not. I’m not one to kiss and tell,” but between 1 story, and another. Honestly, she couldn’t tell if he made a pass at me, we made out a little, or he got to run around the bases. We definitely didn’t say anything about getting mostly naked, with our pants all the way down, and touching each other’s privates.
“Huh, good. That’s such a relief.” She was so weird about it though. Like she knew what kind of pervert he was, but she didn’t want to admit it, or how bad he was getting, but at the same times she didn’t want him to get molested, and expose her for raising a child molester, it’s probably embarrassing for her and his father as his parents, and none of this occurred to me, because I had just found out about gay female sex, and some idea how that might go, though he never got to the part about oral sex, one way or another.
So, in case you’re wondering, that was my first and last sexual experience for years, but it made me straight curious? I mean, just making out with a girl and looking at pictures of porn starts pretending to be gay ruined any chance of a bi-curious phase. (Not to mention my bowl cut started rumors behind my back about being a lesbian.)
However, from hanging out with the boys, I knew all the bushes, and corners. They always turned their backs to take a leek, and zipped up before they turned back around, but I wasn’t really interested in seeing their junk before I got molested. Then, I found dad’s dirty stories, in the second place I looked, after I put his underwear, and sock drawers back in his dresser. (His didn’t have the shelf under the top drawers that Tommy’s did.) Under his mattress, I guess the other side of the matress, since he didn’t have a wife, or girlfriend to sleep with any more.
Mostly cheating housewife stories, like “The other man,” or “A man on the side,” but little paperbacks. Stapled together under his bed, but really very little pictures of nudity. Mostly hand drawn, with a woma sitting up in a robe, showing a lot of leg, and a little bra cup inviting him in?
Which is weird for a single man, I mean not the wanting to cuckhold another man’s wife part. That’s normal, but reading stories about it, instead of renting movies, or at least magazines with pictorials, AND Forums like Penthouse.
I really got into my friend’s father’s stashes too, but really my favorite part was watching boys pee. That’s the peeping part, after school, and on weekends especially. I had no supervision, but I knew this 1 knothole in a fence I could look through all day. Boys cut through there all the time, and stopped to take a leak, because there were convenient bushes for privacy, but I got down in someone else’s yard.
They weren’t home during the day. I didn’t even know who’s yard it was until they came home, and caught me, but at least I pulled my hand out of my pants before they came through the gate to grab the trashcans.
I learned to masturbate, mostly peeping on boys pissing whenever I got a chance. I even got a hat, and put on an old training bra that was at least 2 sizes too tight. To make me flat enough to look like a boy just to go in their restrooms at the Junior High. When I got to junior high, and I even got beat up for being a “Fag,” when they caught me looking at their dicks. At least the couldn’t kick me in the nuts, but it still hurt when they tried to.
It’s just weird that I turned into a voyeur like that, and turned on by softies peeing, instead of hardons beating off, and cuming. Or turned into a homophobe, started starving myself, making myself puke to stay thin, or cutting myself for attention. I don’t know why any of that is a more normal thing to do for girls, but I’m weird, and I’m starting to think that everyone is weird in their own little way. The “Normal” ones are just better at hiding it, and fitting in.
I never was very good at that, but I literally out-grew that phase when my breasts got too big to hide, but big enough to get boy’s attention the right way. So, I could start giving hand jobs, and blow jobs for finger bangs as a freshman, and finally get boyfriends to date until we broke up for some reason, or other.
Still, you never forget your first time, or all the weird stuff you do to try, and deal with something like being molested, mistaken for gay, and making out with your friend in a fit of bicuriosity because her brother put her up to it.
I guess, I never really got a chance to talk to either one about it after that. They avoided me, until their dad finished selling the house, and packing up, to move away, and cover up their child molester son’s other victims. It too me a wile to figure out the signs, other girls go through, and find some more he’d taken advantage of when they came over. I’m sure he found more, wherever they moved to…
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