My folks never told me anything, so I had to figure it out myself.
Well, actually they taught me a lot, but when it came to sex stuff, they sure left out a lot. I had a sister, but she was in the same boat, so she didn’t even get her first boyfriend until she was almost out of high school.
I guess that was the whole idea, but I suppose I was about 7, or 8 when I caught them fooling around. I woke up from a nap, but I remember watching mommy out in the garden. Just pulling weeds, but when I woke up, I couldn’t see her.
Then, I went downstairs, and the house was empty (No idea where my sister was that afternoon.) So, I went out to check the last place I’d seen mom, until I found her in the toolshed with dad.
I was still so ignorant that I didn’t understand what was going on. I didn’t have a brother, and my dad wasn’t the kind of man that sat around the house in his underwear. I had friends with dads that were “Slobs,” so they had to get up, and put on some pants when I went over to their house, but other than that.
I didn’t know they got hardons, let alone what they did with them. Then, daddy fixed up his pants, and went back in the house. I ducked down under the window, mom had the kind of garden shed that she could put up seedlings in trays bye the window. So, I saw everything, but on the way back to the house, dad didn’t look back, and see me hiding there.
Then, mommy came out with an empty bucket to fill up with weeds for the compost. So, I asked her, “Mommy, is daddy’s wiener infected?”
She scolded me, gently for peeking in windows, but I told her that when I woke up, she was gone, and the house was empty, so I went to find where everyone had gone. Then, I pointed out that it was swollen, and pus came out when she squeezed it.
She shook her head, but she couldn’t keep a straight face. She finally said “No, dear. He’s not sick, he just likes it when I get my hands dirty.” She dusted them off, over the side of the planter. “So, I showed him how dirty they could be. It’s just a game we play, as husband and wife.”
“Oh,” I nodded, “So when I get married, can I hold my husband’s wiener when he pees?”
“You’ll have to ask him, when he marries you. Run along now, I still have a lot of work to do, and not much light.”
I guess it was getting on toward evening, and she had dinner going in the kitchen, but she didn’t have to keep an eye on it. I don’t know, I can’t remember, probably something in the oven.
Basically, dad got a boner, watching her work in the garden, came out to tell her how much he loves it when she gets her hands dirty. I was talking a nap, and my sister was away somewhere, so she took him in the toolshed for a quick tugger.
She just didn’t come right out, and tell me, any of that. I had to catch them in the act, and ask her about it, but I thought it was a Urinary Tract Infection. That he was swollen, and she had to squeeze the pus out, the way she did when you got a boil.
I just completely ignored the “When you’re married,” and “With your husband,” parts. I knew it was bad, and I wanted to get away with it, just like peeking in the window to watch them getting frisky in the first place.
I suppose being raised like that made anything sexual, or with boys seem bad, and dirty to me. I know, I’m not alone in that. Pretty much our entire generation was behind closed doors, with the lights off, and not in front of the kids, but they kissed.
I kissed my mom, and dad, and sister “Goodnight,” and went to bed, but because we didn’t have any brothers, my sister and I got our own rooms. 3 bedrooms, 2 kids, mom and dad slept together in the same bed, and that was it. As far as I was concerned, but then I started thinking about boys, and hatching a plan to play with them.
I knew a place, by the park. It might have actually been part of the same property, but it basically ended at the creek. There was a little bridge across it, and an alley between 2 people’s yards, where you could get out to the street. Now, when I had to go to the bathroom, I literally had to run home, to the bathroom. Shut the door, and sit down just to pee.
I knew that, but the boys had this bush. Sometimes, they even said “I have to take a leak,” or one would ask “Where you going,” and the other one would tell him to wizz.
They always went alone, and the bushes were over bye the creek, but down bye the playground too. Of course, there were lots of bushes all around, it was a park, but that was the closest ones to the playground with a little privacy. So, they’d go back and disappear down the bank, and then they’d come back relieved. Sometimes zipping up their pants.
So, the next day, I tried to get my sister to stop by the park on the way home. She asked her friends, who wanted to go do big girl stuff, or they scoffed and made fun of me wanting to go to the stupid park, like a stupid baby.
They weren’t really “Mean girls” per se, but they could be pretty mean when they wanted too. Usually annoyed by little brothers, and sisters wanting to do “Kid’s stuff,” because they were all in 6th, 7th, and 8th grade. “Big girls,” so they didn’t have time for “Kid’s stuff.”
So, I yanked my hand away, and ran off on my own. My sister called after me, and her friends said “Let her grow cry it out.” Then, they yelled “CRYBABY!” until I got away where I couldn’t hear them, but they did hurt my feelings, a little. I didn’t want to cry in front of them, because that’s just what they wanted, but when I got to the park, there was nobody there.
I suppose I was early, because most kids went home to change, and do their homework before they got to go to the park. I sat on the swings until I finished crying, wiped my eyes, and then remembered why I wanted to go there in the first place. “Oh yeah.” I found the bush, and went around the little trail down to the sandbar.
There was a bank, but the water was low, and the boys cut through there so much that it was warn down to a little ramp through the bank. I sniffed around like a dog, but maybe it rained, I don’t remember, but I didn’t smell any pee. Then, I guess the water trickling in the creek got to me, so I found some roots sticking out to hold onto.
Dropped my panties, and popped a squat to pee right there in the sand. It was the first time I’d ever popped a squat outside, or anywhere other than on a toilet, so I was proud of myself. I got my hands dirty, holding onto the roots. So, I had to dust them off, to pull my undies up, just like mom did weeding in the garden.
It occurs to me now, in retrospect that I didn’t want to go to the park for “Kid’s stuff.” I didn’t tell the girls that, because I didn’t think of it, and I’m honestly a little curious what they would have thought if I had. Hard to tell, but I was starting to feel naughty, just peeing outside like an animal until some boys started showing up.
They came up the creek, so I heard them splashing around in the water, throwing rocks, and trying to cuss. Spitting, and all kinds of “Boy stuff,” but at the time, boys were like these weird creatures, you see from afar, but don’t want to get too close, because they might chase you.
I hate to use the word “Animals,” because that could be taken the wrong way. Of course we are all Animals, Mammals, and even great Apes, but nowadays you can be accused of “Reverse Sexism” if you aren’t careful, calling guys that. #NotAllMen, when of course they are, all Animals. Literally, I just have to say that’s what it felt like to me.
Watching Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom on PBS. Or some show like that, so I imagined somebody in my head, narrating a voice-over in a hushed voice while the boys came up, and climbed out of the creek. I hid in the bushes, or under them. Sideways, so I could lay down between the trunks, and roots. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it was exciting.
Now, watch as the boys find bottles, and sticks to play a tribal game, which strengthens the bonds of friendship. Or something like that, I never wrote any of this down, but once they took the ramp up through the bank. They started playing baseball with a stick, and a coke bottle. I suppose it was not unlike The Gods Must Be Crazy, which I hadn’t seen yet.
Really, ridiculously dangerous, by the way. Throwing a glass bottle, and trying to hit it with a stick. Most of them weren’t very coordinated, so they missed, and somebody had to run over to wherever it landed. Once it stopped tumbling in the grass, but eventually it broke. Spraying broken glass all over the batter, who had to bend over, and pull the collar of his shirt out.
He’s lucky he didn’t get any in his eyes, and he cut his fingers picking it out. His neck scratching at it, because it itched, while the boys complained about him breaking their bottle. So, he cried, and ran off, then the rest of them got up on the playground to run around, and stuff. Normal boy stuff, which confused, and fascinated me, because they were boys.
Especially the baseball bottle game, because it was so stupid, and reckless. What the hell did they expect to happen, if they kept smacking a coke bottle with a stick? Of course, the glass was thick, and heavy. The stick was light, and they were barely even coordinated enough to hit it tumbling through the air. So, it took several whacks before the inevitable happened, but then the boy Lost, because he managed to break it?
Again, how was he even surprised when he got covered in broken glass, and cut when it went down the collar of his shirt? I’m trying not to be sexist here, but come on. I was young, and I couldn’t help seeing this as evidence of how stupid, and reckless boys are. I never saw girls doing anything, even remotely like that.
In their defense, boyS. Plural, when they get together, they try to talk each other into doing stupid dangerous things. I just didn’t know that, I figured they were just stupid, and had no idea what would happen, but now I’m old enough to realize what probably did happen. It might have been a Dare, to see who got covered in glass when it broke.
It’s just that girls, at least the girls I knew, and especially the Big Girls my sister hung out with. They said mean things, and tried to hurt your feeling, but they never tried to talk you into doing Dangerous things that could get you hurt. Leave you bleeding, or get broken bones daring each other to climb higher in a tree until it’s not safe.
I saw them do that too, until a limb broke, a boy fell, and ran off crying while they boys laughed, but that was another day. He walked around on crutches with a brace over his sprained ancle for a couple weeks after that, because he landed on his feet, but one of them turned wrong when he hit the ground. No idea how he was able to run off crying on a sprained ankle like that, but it couldn’t have been good for it.
I know, it’s disappointing, but I was disappointed too when the boys went home, without any of them having to take a leak. So, I had to come back, day after day. After school until the weekend, and hide in the bush to see a penis. Of course, that’s what I was waiting for, but watching them also made me question a lot of the things they did.
Like come up the creek, instead of through they alley, and across the bridge. It wasn’t straight, it wiggled around through the neighborhood, like creeks do. They even called it a “Short-cut,” when it was the farthest thing from the direct route to anywhere.
It wasn’t the scenic route, because you couldn’t see out most of the time. There were gaps here, and there, where you could look out between the bushes, or over the side, but there wasn’t much to see you couldn’t see better if you climbed up, and looked around from there.
That’s not even counting the water. They got their shoes wet, so they squelched when they walked, and called 1 boy a “Girl,” when he complained about it. That wasn’t true, a girl would have had the sense to take the bridge, or go around the block to come in the gate, instead of stomping through the creek, and ruining her shoes.
So, he ran off to get some dry socks from home, and finally. One of them said “I’m gonna take a leak.” I was so excited, I turned over before he even got to the bank. Under the bushes, which was my favorite hiding spot by then, and I always stopped to pop a squat before I climbed up to crawl under them.
He didn’t even notice the puddle soaking in the sand, he just stepped around it, and unzipped his pants. I held my breath, scared that I’d start giggling, and be discovered, but he fished it out, and held it. Took a piss, and shook it off, then tucked it back in his pants. That was it, but I’d been expecting it for days. Maybe all week, so when I saw it, I just rolled back, and caught my breath.
From holding it, I looked up through the branches, and closed my eyes. Then, I started playing with myself, trying to imagine what that must be like. Being a boy, and not really interested in doing stupid stuff to show off. Mostly just pissing outdoors, standing up, and holding it to aim. Not to mention having something in my underwear, and the kind of underwear with a fly in it.
Some use for the zipper on my pants other than making it easier to put them on, and take them off. Oh yeah, and I was wearing pants. I put them on that day, because it was Saturday, and I planed to camp out in the bush until I finally saw what I was after. A boy pissing, that was it, but it ment the world to me, and I was so satisfied when it finally happened.
I barely remember how it felt. I remember lying there, and then wondering if I fell asleep when they finally left? I don’t even know if I took a nap, or I was just so distracted. Maybe they just wandered off, and didn’t announce it at the top of their lungs, like they sometimes bragged that they’re going to take a leak.
I didn’t orgasm, yet. I’m pretty sure about that, but I didn’t have my period, any hair on my legs to shave. My nipples weren’t even starting to swell, I was still very much a little girl. If I got wet, I didn’t feel it soaking through my panties, like a lot of girls in stories like these seem to. Not that I had gotten to read any stories, about girls getting wet, and soaking their panties, either.
So, I didn’t expect to, or check. I just rubbed my crotch with my hand stuffed in my fly, and tried to imagine what it was like to piss with a penis. Of course, I couldn’t imagine, I still can’t, but I found out that first afternoon that dresses, and skirts are completely wrong for crawling around in the bushes.
I wasn’t trying to be a boy, or even dress like one. I’m not even remotely transgender in the least. I wasn’t even much of a tom-boy, it’s just that my Jordaches were more practical for crawling under the bushes to watch. Somehow, I’d even forgotten about mom giving dad a quick handjob in the garden shed, which sparked my curiosity in the first place, but satisfied with that.
I went home, and told my sister about it, immediately. I was so proud of myself, doing something so naughty, that I wanted to brag. So, I told her where the boys go to pee, first.
“I know that, everyone knows about that.” She wasn’t impressed in the least.
“Well, did you know that the bank is just the right height. So, they can hide behind the bushes, but they won’t see you there if you hide in them?”
She called me, “You dirty little peeper!” Laughing, “So did you get to see their dongs?”
I shook my head, “Just one boy’s wiener.”
“Uh!’ She rolled her eyes, “Little boys have wieners, but big boys have dongs, dicks, and cocks.”
“What’s the difference?”
“There isn’t any, it’s all just different word for the same thing.”
“Pissers.” I giggled, saying a dirty word out loud, where somebody could hear me. Especially my big sister, since she started swearing with her big girl friends, and she could get me in trouble, if she told on me.
She didn’t but instead she asked me if “He have any hair on it?”
I shook my head, and then I had to think. “I don’t know, he barely stuck it out of his pants, and he had his hand over it. Are they supposed to be hairy?” My daddy had a hairy chest, legs, and armpits, but I hadn’t seen his pubic hairs either. Just mom holding it out of his pants, squeezing it around the bottom, to pull it, and the pus come out. I still thought that it was pus.
“Uh, everyone has pubic hairs when they grow up, that’s why it’s called Puberty?”
I hadn’t heard about that either, so she had to show me. “See?” she pulled her skirt up, and her panties out, so I could see the neat patch of pubes she’d started growing. I guess I should say that she’s only 28 months older, or 2 years, and 4 months. So, she barely even started before I got to see a boy pissing, and went to brag about it.
“Oh, so dad.” I thought, “And mom has pubie hairs too?” They were just the first 2 adults I could think of, and that reminded me, so I giggled. “You know what mom did, last Sunday after church? Oh yeah, you’re off at a friend’s house, so you didn’t get to see it, but it was so dirty.” So, I told her what happened, how I got to see it, and what little mom said was they were playing a game. The kind of game I might get to play with my husband when he marries me.
“Huh!” She shook her head. “That’s nothing, I know this girl that gives hand-jobs all the time, and sometimes.” She looked around, her room. With the door closed, and nobody else around to hear us, but she still waved me over so she could whisper. ‘even blow jobs.’
“What’s that?” I asked, then “Ew,” when she told me that’s putting one in your mouth, and sucking it. “What if she gets pus in her mouth?”
“Oh, that’s not puss, it’s jizm.” So, she had to go back, and tell me the basics of what sex was, in the first place. What it’s for, and you had to be married. So that when you get pregnant, you have someone to go to work while you stay home to take care of the baby…
“Oh.” I just had to go out, back to my room, and think about what she told me. It was TMI, so I had to think about it. A lot. I’m sure you already know all this stuff, if you’re here looking for sex stories, but it was news to me. I sure didn’t know how to feel about it, but it wasn’t dirty. To me, it wasn’t naughty, or nasty, the way I felt about hiding in bushes to watch a boy pee.
Once, that satisfied my curiosity, but in retrospect. I suppose it felt like watching mommy give daddy a hand-job through the window of the garden shed. A little confused, until I finally got someone to explain what was going on, instead of just saying something stupid like “We’re playing a game.”
“Huh!” I just lay back in bed, and thought about it. I didn’t even try playing with myself, I just felt satisfied that that mystery was solved. For the time being, but of course as I grew up. That childhood experience led to me playing piss games, water sports, and golden showers with my first boyfriends.
When I was old enough to find some…
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