Author:
Master Mike (Joyous & Thoughtgful)
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Date Posted: 12:24:56 01/18/08 Fri
I’m very glad to have found this forum; it’s a perfect place to share some treasured or quirky memories and also to reflect on them. Names are changed.
My mother and I lived alone for a bit over a year in a wing of a large house in semi-rural New England, US. Our wing was completely separate from the landlord’s family’s larger section. I was 9-10 at the time.
The neighbor’s family consisted of father, mother, Chloe, about 17, Sandy, my age and in my class at school, and Mark, 6. A couple of cousins were in and out of the house, I don’t recall their circumstances.
Sandy and I became good friends, watching TV, climbing in the apple tree, playing baseball, getting into minor trouble. There was a pretty large field on the property, so we played lots of neighborhood ball there. Behind the house and garage was a field of tall grass.
At this time, I didn’t know the mechanics of how the father put the sperm in the mommy to make a baby, but I knew the baby grew in a womb.
Sandy was a budding exhibitionist, though I didn’t realize it at the time. She was all excited when she was to receive a hoop skirt. She wore it to school and spent most of the day walking up and down each aisle to get to the pencil sharpener, swiveling her hips to let the wide skirt and petticoat touch the desks and students. I’m quite sure the teacher made her stop the display. Once, when my friend Steve was over, we ran about in the tall grass and the three of us flopped down. Out of sight of any adults, Steve found an opportunity. “I’m going to strip you,” he told Sandy, grasping her pants and tugging at them. “Oh, Stevie, you’re really doing it,” I said, admiring my nervier friend. Sandy made no protest but turned to make it easier for him. However, Steve lost his nerve and stopped. All we saw was a bit of her lower belly.
One Saturday soon afterwards, Sandy and I were watching Lassie or My Friend Flicka on our tiny TV. My mother was upstairs in bed. During a commercial, I giggled and told Sandy about an ad I’d seen the night before, which talked about how soft some toilet paper was. I laughed and told her I’d wondered if they’d show someone’s ass on TV.
To my surprise and delight, she turned her back and began lowering her pants. “I’ll show you mine,” she said. Changing her mind, she faced me. “Here, look at the front,” she said.
There before me was a lovely hairless vagina. I was thrilled at the forbidden sight and immediately erected. I was intrigued by the pretty lips.
Kids are all about fairness. If Sandy showed me hers, I was obligated – and very willing. “Here, look at mine,” I invited, tugging down my PJ bottoms. My hairless little cockie stood up, tip flared over the undeveloped shaft, like a mushroom.
Sandy liked what she saw, too. “Oh, it’s all big and stiff.”
She looked at it as I attempted to explain my erection. “Yeah, it’s not usually like that, it gets bigger when I think about girls. I’ll show it to you when it’s soft later.”
Concerned that my mother would show up, we covered up and resumed watching TV. I remember waiting for my erection to go down and waiting for a commercial. I knew I had to do it quickly or I’d erect again. “Here, look, Sandy,” I said, swiftly lowering my PJs again. “This is how it usually looks.”
To Sandy’s obvious delight, the inevitable happened. “Wow! Look how it grows, like it’s alive! Neat!”
Unfortunately, fear of Mom intruded again and away went my “thing.” We agreed not to tell anyone what we’d done.
Monday, I was swinging on the Monkey Bars before school when Sandy and a girlfriend walked by, heads together, whispering. Sandy pointed at me and her friend said, “She saw everything!”
“Well, so did I,” I responded.
In the next few months, there were a few incidents. One still puzzles me. Twice a week, our class watched a TV program to teach us French. The room was slightly darkened, but details, even colors could be seen in the room. One day, during the half-hour program, I developed a strange anxiety I’ve never had before or since. I thought my penis had disappeared or fallen off. Slyly checking out the perimeter, I slowly unzipped my pants and tugged away my underwear, pulling the little guy out a bit just to make sure. Whew! There it was! I stuffed him away again, but as I zipped my pants, I noticed Mary, who sat next to me on the right staring with great interest. Our eyes met, but she never told and we never spoke of the incident.
Our school only went as far as 4th grade, so we were the oldest kids. Our girls congregated on a stair landing at the far end of the school, where there weren’t many teachers around. We guys walked by, frequently seeing glimpses of panties and earning contemptuous remarks from the girls, who nevertheless hung out on the landing. One day there was a commotion on the landing. The girls gathered around Linda, glancing behind them to be sure none of us boys were close by. All we could see was that Linda was lifting her skirt. One guy with older sisters guessed Linda was wearing stockings.
Well, we bided our time. After the knot of giggling and oohing girls around Linda broke up, they resumed their normal talking and walking around on the landing. We boys went around the corner and then dashed out, under the landing. I jumped up, and got a hand on Linda’s skirt, feeling what I called “wirey works” under there. I’d felt my first garter belt!
I got in trouble for that one, narrowly avoiding Mr. Stevens’ (principal) famous stick.
One day, I dreamed about another girl, Nancy being in her panties. I liked the dream and tired all day to see some panties. I probably did at reading group, where boys and girls sat in a circle. In any event, in the afternoon, as we walked home from the schoolbus, I told Sandy about my dream.
Far from being disconcerted that I’d have an erotic dream about someone else, Sandy wanted to educate me. Inviting me to her room, she lifted her skirt and showed me her yellow cotton briefs. She then gave me a tour of her underwear drawer, showing me different styles and patterns. All were cotton briefs. I thanked her for the lesson. We kept our clothes on ‘cause her mother and cousins were in the house.
One day I was playing alone in the shade of the old fruit trees on the edge of the property. Sandy came out of the house and found me. “Come into the tall grass,” she said. I followed her through the trails we kids had worn in the grass. In a wide spot, she sat down, as did I. “Look at my new panties,” she said proudly, lifting her dress. She wore light blue cotton briefs decorated with red and yellow flowers.
I told her they were very pretty and (the whole fairness thing again) I showed her my white Fruit of the Loom briefs. “These aren’t as interesting as yours,” I apologized.
“What’s that opening for?”
“You’re supposed to use it to pee, but I never do. I just pull them down.”
Sandy announced that she needed to pee, and tugged her panties down. I got a better look this time. I saw her labia minora and assumed it was her womb. I was amazed such a small thing could accommodate a baby. Soon, Sandy peed, which I found interesting, but not particularly exciting. I attempted to pee, but explained my dilemma. “I can’t pee when I’m stiff and I can’t be naked with you without being stiff.”
This delightful session ended when Sandy had to get back into the house. She had all new clothes on because of some family function she was to attend.
At the end of the summer, I was moved away. The move happened suddenly, so I went back to Sandy’s house with my mom and stepdad to get our stuff. I was in the garage with Sandy and asked her if we could see each other again – I realized she was a truly wonderful resource for childhood sexuality who would be hard to replace. We tried to sneak into the tall grass, but she was afraid of my stepfather, who was frequently in and out of our house. I’m very sorry, because I planned to introduce touching if she’d allow it. I never saw Sandy again.
Thinking Back
The memories of my few times with Sandy are very warm. It was nice to innocently explore our anatomy. I wasn’t the first boy who’d learned anatomy from Sandy and I’m sure I wasn’t the last.
The Dark Side
I was too young to realize all that was going on. I still have contacts in the town and have learned more over the years.
At the time, I knew the kids, including the cousins, were subject to Dad’s strap, administered in the basement. I don’t know if this was on the bare or anything about the spankings.
One afternoon, Sandy and I were in the kitchen when Chloe, her 17 year old sister, came in after being out all night. Dad wasn’t there, but Mom immediately grasped Chloe’s arm and started smacking her with a wooden spoon. This was terrifying and somewhat fascinating to me. Sandy and I quickly decided to go play outdoors – after all, childhood is even more about staying out of trouble than fairness.
Later, I heard Sandy had been found in a room with several boys in Junior High, allowing them free feels of her breasts. When asked by the student council why she did this, she replied, “It felt good.”
Her brother Mark became a rapist, from what I heard. I can’t remember the source.
Last year, I received a clipping from the local paper about the death of Sandy’s mom. The context showed me she stayed with her husband until his death. The obit was longer than it would otherwise have been because a state rep complimented Sandy’s Mom for championing a remedy for some injustice or other. I was very glad to learn she’d done some good and was remembered that way.
Effect on my Sexuality
I have a strong lingerie fetish, but that mainly developed when I was in junior high. Girls still wore stockings, garter belts, girdles, slips, and skirts. All those intriguing glimpses and feels. Wow!
I love consensual, sexual spankings, top or bottom. The origin of this lies in deriving excitement from enhancing the dominant and submissive roles, not from childhood spankings.
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