I read with great interest a blog post from my friend Kandia at Abezure’s Journal where she talked about fear. One of her points was about being left alone in the house and raiding his mother’s panty drawer, bra drawer and clothes in the closet. and having to worry about getting every back in exactly the same spot or her father “could tell if even the littlest of things had been disturbed.” What she was putting across in her post brought back some fun memories for me.
I wrote in an earlier post about my early life, with my father being out of town for long stretches. My mom had apparently wanted a daughter instead of a son and so used to dress me up. So I had to be a butch little boy in school and in town, but dressed and was, well, myself at home except when dad was coming home. (Come to think of it, I should have grown up schizophrenic!)
I also wrote about my first sexual experience with a neighborhood boy. I forgot about a little fact about about that event that, now that I think about it, was hilarious. I was to keep an eye on a neighbor’s house while they were on vacation. Watering the plants, that kind of thing. I was just a young lad. I can’t remember the exact age, but I had hit puberty because I couldn’t keep my hands off myself! LOL.
So this boy — my same age — was in the house with me. Just him and me. That’s when he hit me with the “hey, wanna feel what a woman feels?” I was “oh yeah!” So we got naked and he found the woman of the house’s bra drawer. This is the part I just remembered. I took a lipstick that was on the dresser and drew little nipples on the bra. Wearing the bra, looking in the mirror at the nipples, I did, indeed, feel girly. Of course the pretty intense but short-lived butt fuck helped. Heehee.
So now what did I do after we were done (other than leak)? I had absolutely no idea how to get lipstick off of cloth. So I stuffed it in the clothes hamper in the middle of lots of other clothes, figuring she’d just dump everything in the washer together and that would take care of the problem. I don’t think it did. It was soon after that that my dad caught me getting a blow job in my room from that same boy. I think he may have been alerted.
Nice memory. Thanks for conjuring it up for me, Kandia.