Have I ever mentioned my middle school years? I know that sounds crazy young, but there was a lot going on then, too.
I lived in a small town north of Cantonment Florida. There weren’t a lot of people living there. It was more of a rural community. Lots of horses, and it always kind of smelled a little like cow shit. Or, at least, that’s how I remember it. Ohhh, and I remember that one special, freaky guy. His name was Josh.
So, how old is someone in the 6th grade? I was 14 in the 9th grade. I guess that would mean I was about 11 in the sixth grade. (I could have left all that adding and subtracting out. Of course, you could have helped me, too.) LOLOL.
So, I’m 11, and I meet this guy named Josh. I’ve told you about him before. He’s the one with the puppy dog eyes. I wanted him from the moment that I first set my blue eyes on him.
Mind you, I was a virgin. I’d definitely had some experiences with guys, but these were grown fuckin men. And, although their fingers penetrated me plenty, no penis ever had.
Josh inspired in me something that no one else could. He made me want him so badly that it began to manifest in words. And, when my friends got tired of hearing those words, I began to put them on paper.
Over the years, I wrote several illicit stories of Josh and I, and how he was going to take my virginity. I even wrote in full detail the bloody mess afterwards. Which of course, NEVER HAPPENED.
Not because we never got together. Which is a hundred percent true. I never had the nerve to go after what I really wanted when I was that young. I saw myself as an awkward pre-teen who didn’t have the ability to get real man. Boy, are we foolish as children?
These stories began to take on a life all of their own. I even recall one time, using my power as a straight A student to make eight copies of one of the nautiest stories. I did it RIGHT THERE in the Dean’s office only inches from his desk. Boy, those hormones will make you do crazy some crazy.
So, I began showing my friends what I’d written. They already knew I was in love with the boy. Or rather, in lust for him. The funny thing is, my friends loved the details with which I told my fantasies.
At first, they just made silly comments. I’d only written maybe four or five stories by the time we finished school 3 years later. But that structure of writing followed me into high school.
After reading one of my short works, one of my friends asked me to write one for her. She wanted to be pretty and sexy, and she wanted the guy to be very masculine and very kind and caring. I don’t even recall her asking about his dick size. I would think that would matter, but I don’t recall ever receiving one of those requests. So, perhaps it didn’t back then. Odd. Don’t you think?
Over the years, I tailored my stories too many a young woman and young girl. It began to be something I was known for. The sad thing was, the girls never agreed with my endings too much. They always wanted foo foo endings and that focused on lots of snuggling and kisses afterwards. You see, I didn’t see it that way.
I guess I never was fondled snuggled or kissed much after my sexual outings as a child. And as a young adult, I found that to be more than true. So, my tales always came with some kind of a diabolical end. I preferred those.
Strangers meeting in the night. A girl cheating with another girl’s man. A young female being molested buy some older gent. They were stories with endings that didn’t appeal to too many females. But with this newly-formed blog, I have found the audience to appreciate my misgivings.
So thank you, friends. You’ve given my words a breath of fresh air. And I’ve got my mouth WIDE OPEN.