The Early Years Part 1
I was always a loner growing up. I didn’t have what you would call friends. I don’t suppose that I even had acquaintances for the most part. I didn’t stand out, even for not standing out. It was as if I flew completely under the radar. I didn’t get in trouble at school, and I didn’t win awards. I didn’t play any sports, and I wasn’t in the band. I walked in every day on time and took my seat, waiting for someone to tell me what I was doing wrong or right. It never happened, so I just assumed everything was ok. For the most part, is was as if I weren’t even there.
Occasionally, one of the kids would try to befriend me, but I was always suspicious of them so I would hold back and they would move along. I can’t remember ever being picked on, other than a minor incident here and there that wasn’t noteworthy enough to remember specific details. I was pretty much a straight “B” student, with an occasional “A”, but I don’t think I ever got a “C”, and I am positive that I never studied for anything. At home, I would do my homework and watch some tv. When I was 10 (I think) I got a skateboard, and I would ride that around to go wherever I needed to. I never had a bike, and to this day I have never ridden one. I’m frankly not sure that I could.
Masturbation is our first and natural form of sexual activity and if that’s inhibited or damaged, then we suffer for the rest of our lives. —Betty Dodson
Like many kids today, although it was less common then, I was raised by a single mother. My Dad left my Mom when I was 2, and we had to move out because she didn’t work at the time. We had to make our home in a motel that rented by the week, and my Dad was never heard from again. I’m not sure what his name is, but he is probably dead by now anyway. It might have been fun to look him up years ago, but I’ve lost interest now and am not sure that it would serve any purpose.
My Mother didn’t graduate high school, but she made a decent living as a prostitute. We always had something to eat, a roof over our heads, clean clothes, and there were plenty of drugs, although she would have killed me had I got into them. When money got tight, she would buy the cheap cigarettes to make sure we had food money. She used to cough when she smoked them. “You better eat all of that food,” she would tell me. “I’m smoking a horses ass over here so you could have that.
The thing that I hated about growing up in a motel was the lack of privacy. For the most part, Mom went out to get customers and made them take her to a room. There were a couple of motels in town that rented by the hour. Sometimes when the guy didn’t have enough money for that, she would bring them to our place. I hated that. It’s hard to lay there and pretend to be asleep while some guy is fucking your mother in the next bed. I tried not to complain about it too much though, because like she said, “A roof doesn’t just grow over your head.”
One night when I was 9 or 10, this guy that used to come by sometimes and pick my mother up knocked on the door. He was a businessman because he was always wearing a suit. He was in a hurry and didn’t have time to take her anywhere, so she brought him inside. I was awake, but I pretended to be asleep. I heard all of the typical sounds, but when he was finishing I heard him get up and come over by the bed that I was in. I stayed perfectly still and was careful not to blink my eyes at all, thinking he was checking to make sure that I was asleep. Next thing you know, something warm and wet was hitting my face. At the time, I had no idea what it was, and I shot straight up in bed from the shock of it. My mom was fucking pissed. She screamed at him and threw him out of the room naked, tossing his clothes out behind him. That was the last I ever saw of him. My Mom cleaned me up, then climbed in my bed. For hours, she just sat there rocking me saying over and over “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry” as she cried. Even though I didn’t know what had happened, I told myself I would kill that man when I got older for making my Mom cry like that. Ever since then, I have always slept with my head under the covers.
One day at school, a girl came up to me and handed me a small white envelope with balloons on it. I didn’t know what it was at first, but it turned out to be an invitation to her 12th birthday party. I had never been to one before, and I clearly had nothing better to do, so I decided to give it a go. I wasn’t aware of the fact that you were supposed to bring a present, so I felt kind of awkward when I got there and had nothing. I suppose this was my introduction to the bullshit of our society. You invite someone to an event that has the sole purpose of landing you presents. It’s pretty fucked up when you think about it.
At the party, they had cake and ice cream, and I liked that. Both were rare treats, and never before had I been so lucky as to have the two served together. After we ate, we all went into another room to play games. This is where my troubles began. I believe that I have mentioned before that I don’t like to be touched. I’m not a germophobe or anything weird like that, I just don’t like people putting their hands all over me. Well, the kids were playing a game where one of the children would have their eyes covered with a blindfold, then the rest of the kids would spin them around in circles until they were so dizzy they could hardly stand up. Then they would let them go, and the kid would stumble towards a wall with a horses tail in his hand. On the wall was a picture of a horse with no tail, and he would have to try to stick the tail as close to the horses ass as one possibly could while blindfolded and dizzy. It looked pretty fun, but the thought of all of those kids touching me and spinning me around was more than I could handle, so I asked if I could use their bathroom.
I stayed in there until I thought that enough time had passed to allow them to finish the game, and then I headed back down the hallway. I passed a room where the door was partially opened, and inside there was a girl laying on a bed sleeping. I was struck by her beauty, and I had to get a closer look. I slipped through the partially open door, and walked over to the bed. Her hair was blonde, and she was wearing a pink shirt that buttoned up, but the top couple of buttons were undone. I could see down into her shirt, and I was tingling all over.
Her skin was so tan, and her breasts were large. Probably a “C” cup. She had freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and down her chest. A necklace in the shape of a heart was caught by it’s corner in between her tits, and hung there as if it could fall out and land on the bed at any moment. I could feel my dick getting hard in my pants.
I had seen some magazines that had pictures of naked women in them, but up until now I had never seen a real set of breasts, other than my Mom’s, of course. I wanted to see these so badly. I looked over my shoulder to make sure that nobody was watching, then I reached down and undid a couple of the buttons on her shirt. I lifted the pink fabric away from her tanned body and got my first full view of a real set of tits, and wow, were they great! I remember thinking that every girl had these, and they must all look like this. I would learn later in life that it doesn’t exactly work out that way.
The freckles from her chest continued down onto her breasts, but they were so faint there that you could barely see them. Her nipples were perfectly shaped, and such a soft pink color. They stood out against the tan complexion of her skin like somebody had colored them in with a highlighter.
At this point, I was standing directly over her, basking in her beauty and trying to keep my penis from throbbing so hard in my pants. She must have sensed me standing there, because she stirred in the bed and rolled onto her other side. I waited a moment to be sure that she didn’t wake, then I walked around to the other side of the bed so I could get another look.
I don’t know to this day what I was thinking, but I had never masturbated before this point in my young life. I guess it was because my dick was so hard, but for whatever reason I undid my pants and took it out. I was just standing there and holding it, not meaning for anything to happen, or even aware that it could for that matter, but as I stood there I began to feel lightheaded. I looked down just in time to watch my cock erupt, and a string of sperm shot out of it and land right on that beautiful chest that I had been so mesmerized by.
I don’t know if it was the warmth of my load, or the fact that I had already partially awakened her, but when that cum hit her chest she opened her eyes and just looked at me. It wasn’t an angry look, or even one of shock. The best way that I can describe it would be disinterested anticipation, but that seems to be a bit of an oxymoron. It was a look that one would expect to get from the girl at the cash register at McDonalds when they go in there and scour the menu trying to make a selection, as if it were their first time there. She was clearly waiting for me to say something, but skeptical as to what impact it might have. We looked into each others eyes for what was probably about 5 seconds but seemed to me to last for more like 10 minutes. Knowing I needed to say something, but facing the double shock of my first orgasm coming at the same time as my first peeping tom bust, I had no idea what to say. I opened my mouth up, and heard some words come out of it. If I had planned the whole thing out, and had thought that this was the perfect time to say something stupid, I could have stayed up all night preparing a speech and nothing would have worked out nearly as well as what escaped my lips. “I’m just here for the party” is what I heard my voice saying. Apparently, those weren’t the words she was looking for. She began to scream.
I have no hard feelings towards her father, although I did harbor them at the time. I don’t think anything in his life leading up to this point could have possibly prepared him for the moment where he burst in through his 18 year old daughter’s bedroom door to respond to her banshee like screams, and see the scene that he walked in on. If there is a parenting book out there somewhere, or if perhaps somebody who reads this is working on one, then a new chapter on this matter might be a fitting addition.
The girl was now sitting completely upright in bed, her shirt almost completely unbuttoned. Her arms were held out in front of her, bent at an angle that would suggest that she had not quite yet reached a decision in the matter of getting my nut all over her hands as she covered up, or leaving her breasts exposed to whomever might walk through that door. A milky white cum shot that would have made a porn star proud was spread across her perfectly tanned tits, and was making it’s way down her stomach where it was beginning to form a small puddle in her belly button. Standing beside her bed was a 12 year old kid he didn’t even know with his pants down around his knees and his dick still in his hand.
“You little motherfucker!”, he bellowed in a voice that would have scared the shit out of Andre The Giant. Oh, shit. I had done it now. Still weak and unsteady from the orgasm, I began to work at getting my cock back into my underwear and pulling my pants up. As he walked around the bed towards me in a rage, I decided to see if my idiotic line from earlier had found a more receptive audience, so I repeated it. “I’m just here for the party”. No better luck the second time. “I’ll show you a party, you little son-of-a-bitch”. His line was much better.
I had just finished fastening my belt, so I hadn’t even looked up yet to see the punch coming. It landed square on my left eye, and spun me around where I landed in a heap on the floor. I tried to get up, and he kicked me in the ribs knocking what little breath I had right out of me. I had fallen from my skateboard before, so I knew what it was like to suck for air and feel like you were getting any, but that was always at the end of the traumatic experience. I had never been in a fight before, let alone one where I was unable to breathe. I got up and tried to lunge for the bed, as it was my best path to an escape route, by me weak legs failed me and I fell towards him instead. An open handed slap sent me back to the floor before the screaming mom came to my rescue and pulled him off of me.
Once cooler heads had prevailed, I found myself beside the angry man in a station wagon being driven home to my mother. My right eye was completely swollen shut, and my neck was rotating at much less than it’s usual range of motion. We rode in complete silence, until we arrived at the motel where my Mom and I lived. I reached over to open the door, but he said “I’ll get it” as he exited the car.
He pulled me out of the seat by my shirt collar and asked me which room we lived in. I pointed towards our room, and he drug me all the way over to it. He knocked with all of the authority of a cop making a drug bust. There is no doubt in my mind that my mother heard it the same way from inside the room, because it took her a minute to get to the door, and when she opened it I heard the sound of the toilet replenishing it’s supply of water. Apparently the man felt no need for formal introductions, because the second that the door started to open he pushed me through it so hard that I about bowled my unsuspecting mom over as I collapsed on the floor. I don’t think that she said a word as he told her what had happened, and when the door shut she turned around with a look of anger that I had never seen cross her face before.
Apparently, my mother was under the impression that the girl in question was the 12 year old birthday girl, so as I described what had happened she naturally was a bit curious about the size of the tits, and how they had developed so well so young. When she realized that it was her 18 year old sister, she relaxed a bit. “You were wrong for what you did”, she scolded me. “But he totally over-reacted. Hell, if I had a nickel for ever time a guy came on my tits…”. She turned and looked at me, and we both realized at the exact same moment that she had nowhere else to take that. We both laughed so hard that her anger was forgotten.
Since the girls father had threatened to call the cops, Mom was a bit concerned. He never did, but we moved three towns over a couple of weeks later non the less. This got me away from that school before anyone there learned what had happened. My mother did the best she could to give me a good sex talk, and the incident was soon behind us.
The new motel had one bed instead of 2, and Mom hated that. I liked it, however, because I felt safe sleeping beside her. Plus, I doubted that she would bring a man into the bed we were sharing, and I turned out to be right. Still, I had no clue as to the abrupt changes that my life was about to take.