Date: Sun, 03 Apr 2005 04:23:57 -0400
From: The Gargoyle <thegarg0yle@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Weird Little Sex Life - Part 1

My Weird Little Sex Life

By The Gargoyle

The following content is absolutely true. I've changed some
of the names to safeguard my own anonymity.


AGE 5

   I got a thing for feet. Always have. This sounds
ridiculous but I think it's got something to do with this:
Socks and underwear. As a small child I saw some kind of
connection between socks and underwear.
   I understood very clearly that the things behind your
underwear were private. You weren't supposed to see the
things behind other people's underwear nor were you supposed
to expose the things beneath your own.
   Underwear formed an extra layer between your clothes and
your body - between your pants and your really private
parts. Socks also formed an extra layer - between your feet
and your shoes. So I interpreted that your feet were also
private. I think that's the source of the fetish.

   I remember in kindergarten - one day in gym class. There
was a new kid in our class. He must have just moved to the
neighborhood. He didn't have the proper gym attire. Now for
crying out loud, we were five years old. How could one not
have the proper gym attire? Shorts, T-shirts and sneakers
were the standard issue for five-year olds. What the hell
else would five-year olds wear to school? Okay so this kid
might have been new to the country let alone our
kindergarten class. The point is - He had these shiny black
shoes that were right out of the question when it came to
gym class. Therefor he went barefoot.
   Barefoot.
   I was stunned. His naked feet slapped against the gym
floor as he ran around. He might as well have been running
around with no pants or underwear as far as I was concerned.
How could he dare expose himself like that? I would have
fought to the bloody death before stripping my feet naked in
front of a classroom of boys and girls.

   At this time in my life I spent a lot of time with my
grandparents. I have an uncle only ten years my senior and
at that time he was around 15 and had a bedroom in the
basement of my grandparents house. I spent many nights in
his bed with him, in our pajamas. I remember one night we
were horsing around on his bed and for a joke he grabbed my
bare foot and stuck my toes in his mouth. Don't get me
wrong. He's entirely straight. For him it was strictly a
joke but it must have left a mark on me - for me to remember
it to this day.

   I was already masturbating at this time. I started at
four. I guess that's a little precocious. I discovered it by
humping a pillow in effort to suppress the urge to pee. For
the next 13 years I got off strictly by humping pillows.
Oddly I never thought to use my hand til I was 17.
   This practice of humping pillows - When I was very young
I gave it the name "homework" of all things. Homework was a
term I'd heard from my young uncle and aunt and I didn't
know what it meant, nor did I know the name for pillow-
humping so I just threw the two things together. Seemed
sensible enough to a four-or-five-year-old.
  One evening in my uncle's bedroom I wanted his attention -
probably wanted him to play a game with me. But he, sitting
at his desk explained, "I can't. I'm doing my homework."
   "Well then I'm gonna do my homework too," I declared and
proceeded to climb onto his bed and grind myself silly
against his pillow. He just looked at me a little strange
and that's when I began to realize that my 'homework' wasn't
necessarily fit for public performance.


THREE APPROACHES

   The school where I attended kindergarten was quite close
to our apartment - separated only by a large park and small
wooded area. One evening my friends and I were playing in
the park and one by one they were called home. I think there
was a rule that I was to go home whenever the last of my
friends were called home but this evening I didn't. I
decided to hang out alone for a while just to be
adventurous.
   The sun was setting. I heard a voice calling to me. It
came from the dense coniferous trees on the other side of
the steel 'frost' fence that bordered the park. I spied a
boy - significantly older than myself - wedged between the
trees and motioning me to come over. I obeyed - perhaps out
of fear. I was generally shy and mistrusting of older boys -
assuming they were mostly only interested in beating up
younger boys.
   I approached cautiously, planning to run like hell if he
started to climb the fence. I don't remember how the
conversation started but he quickly brought it around to the
subject of streaking. I'd never heard the term before. He
explained it meant taking off all of one's clothes and
running around in public. He claimed he did it all the time
and urged me to give it a try - right then and there.
   I was not comfortable with this and not at all keen to
try. He offered incentives. He explained that there were
great rewards for taking off my clothes - chocolate, cash,
my very own TV for my bedroom. He said he'd been given all
these things in return for stripping naked. I didn't believe
him but was afraid to say so. He must have really wanted to
see me naked because he tried for the longest time to
convince me. I wanted him to leave me alone but was a bit
scared to leave without his permission.
   It grew dark. We heard my mother calling for me. He did
some serious back-pedaling in a hurry. He told me that what
streaking really meant was being a good boy and doing what
my mother told me. Then he took off.
   The next day I told my friend Johnny about the encounter.
He wasn't especially bright. At the mention of the
chocolate, cash and TV he promptly stripped himself naked
and began running laps around the parking lot. His mom
showed up all of a sudden and gave him an earful and a whack
on the ass. No cash or prizes.

   That was the first of three such propositions through my
childhood. What can I say? I was a pretty cute kid.
   Around the age of eight I met a new friend who's family
had just immigrated from England. He became very popular
because he had all kinds of toys that none of us had. He had
an older brother that we never saw much of but one day he
and I found ourselves alone together.
   He had a very cool bike - the envy of the neighborhood -
basically the early version of the 'motocross' bicycle. He
offered to 'double' me on it. I sat in front of him and we
rode around the apartment complex for a while, then stopped
and sat side by side on the slope of a hill. He asked me
what I wanted to do and I had no suggestion. I had no idea
why this older boy would take an interest in me. I do now.
  He suggested a game I'd never heard of before. He
explained that one person would lie on their back while the
second person would remove articles of the first person's
clothing - one at a time - and have a peak at what lay
beneath. I assumed the objective of the first person was to
try to stop the second person. Not so, he explained. The
first person was supposed to let it happen and
simultaneously strip the second person. I didn't show a lot
of interest in the idea and so he let it pass.

   Would-be molester number three was a little more
aggressive. This occurred at about age 11. I met an older
fellow who lived across the street and a few doors down.
Though we hardly spoke much we would always gravitate
towards each other if I was alone, and we would just ride
our bikes around together. He never approached when I was
with friends. It was a strange association. One day we left
the suburban survey where we then lived and found ourselves
at a tree-lined creek surrounded by fields of very tall
grass. It was a popular place for my friends and I to play
but he was a bit too old for that crowd.
   We dismounted from our bikes and walked alongside the
creek for bit. The boy then told me that he wanted me to go
lie down in the tall grass with him and that he wanted to
take my clothes off. I said I wouldn't do that. He explained
that no one would be able to see us and that he would strip
too if that would make me feel more comfortable. I declined.
He wouldn't take no for an answer. He threatened to throw my
bike into the creek if I would not cooperate.
   He tried for a long time to convince me but I wouldn't
budge. Finally he marched back to our bikes, took mine and
disappeared into the trees. I crept along the opposite side
of the creek and spied on him. He found a place where the
creek was wide and shallow. He carefully descended the steep
bank and placed the bike on a little 'island' of sand. I was
much smaller than him and didn't know if I'd be able to get
the bike back up that bank on my own.
   I sneaked back to where we'd last talked and he met me
there. I played dumb and asked for my bike back. He lied. He
said it was submerged. I wouldn't find it. He would only
relocate it and give it back after I got naked with him. He
tried at length but couldn't convince me. Finally he
returned to the bike and brought it back to me - safe and
sound. He rode away and never approached me again.


AGE 13 - 15

   Shortly after this I was moved to a bedroom in the
basement of our house. This afforded plenty of privacy and I
would stay up very late, often reading books or exploring
sexual fantasies. I was still humping pillows at that time
and I discovered that the mirror on my antique dresser could
swivel up and down if I removed a pin in the back that was
holding it in place. I would angle the mirror down, climb on
to my bed stark naked, chest down and looking forward at the
mirror. I had a nice body - trim and toned. I liked to watch
my naked butt (albeit at a sharp angle) as I humped away on
the pillow.
   I explored fantasies of being accidentally or forcibly
exposed to girls. I would take scissors and cut my underwear
down to almost nothing. I'd wear only that and incorporate
it into my exposure fantasies.
   Sometimes I would turn out the lights, open my curtains
and sit naked on the deep window sill, parallel to the
window with my bare butt and feet on the cool ledge, arms
around my knees. There was a streetlight right in front of
the house and I knew I was visible from outside, not that
anyone would be looking in my direction.
   Being a basement room the window was right at ground
level. Several nights I got really gutsy and opened the
window and climbed outside stark naked. I never went further
then our front lawn.
   Unfortunately it was a storm window and I couldn't figure
out how to re-attach the screen once it was off. Eventually
my parents discovered what I'd done to the window and gave
me shit for it. I claimed I broke into the house when I'd
forgot my key. They re-installed the screen and I never
pulled that stunt again.

   The street that ran behind our house parallel to our
street was at a higher elevation than ours so the lots that
backed on to ours were higher, their houses were higher and
thus the fence between afforded lots of privacy to their
yards and almost none to ours. One afternoon I went into the
backyard shirtless to talk to my mom who was sitting in a
lounge chair reading a magazine. She glanced at the house
behind ours and smiled and said, "Did you know there's a
girl staring out the window at you?"
   I hadn't known but it was kind of flattering.

   An older single woman lived next door and I would cut her
grass and sometimes clean her pool. My family was welcomed
to use the pool whenever we wanted if she wasn't home. The
first time my folks let me use it unattended I got a little
adventurous. I untied the string on my bathing suit and
began diving into the pool, climbing out and diving over and
over again. Each time I dove the suit would be pulled down a
bit by the force of hitting the water but I would never
adjust it. Eventually it was half way down my hips and my
dick and ass were both half-visible.
   I wouldn't even look at the windows of the houses behind,
not wanting to know for sure if anyone was watching or not.
On the next dive the suit came completely off and I
continued naked for a while. I was excited and scared at the
same time.

   My friend Steve Edison was a year younger than me. He was
a bit of a pervert and quite likely gay or possibly
bisexual. I haven't seen him since high school. He and his
brother would have friends over for little skinny dipping
parties. His parents consented to these events and would
check on us periodically. It was usually his mother who
would pop out the back door without warning and she caught
many glimpses of myself and other naked adolescents this
way. It was kind of funny at the time and didn't concern me
that much.
   They also hosted many sleepovers. We'd bed down in
sleeping bags in the basement rec-room during cold months
and in the summer we'd tent it in the back yard. Steve made
it clear that the Edison's bed-time ritual must be observed
by their guests. When Steve and his brother were ready for
bed they would always go downstairs and kiss their mother
goodnight. I assume this was usually done in pajamas. But
during sleepovers we all slept in our underwear because that
was the 'cool' thing to do. So before bed Steve would insist
that we all strip to our underwear and parade to the living
room or kitchen and present our half-naked selves to his
mother for good-night kisses. It seemed harmless enough at
the time but in hindsight seems a little suspect, doesn't
it?


AGE 16-17

   We started hanging out with a group of girls our age and
some couples were formed. Two of the girls, Monique and
Krista were quite interested in me but I had a pretty good
sense by this time that girls weren't exactly my cup of tea
- at least - they weren't as interesting to me as boys were.
   One evening a friend's parents were out and we were
sitting around their kitchen table playing cards. Monique,
sitting directly across from me raised her leg and rested
her foot on my chair between my legs. In no time she was
grinding her toes against my crotch. I let her do it for a
while but I wouldn't sleep with her despite her repeated
hints.

   We boys were skinny dipping at the Edison's one night
when we heard the girls show up at the side gate. We all
scrambled into our suits and climbed out of the pool to
greet them. They were quite brazen, suggesting that we
remove our suits and go back to what we were doing. We said
we'd skinny dip if they would. They wouldn't but made it
quite clear that they'd like to watch us at it. They became
quite adamant that we should strip off and 'just pretend
they weren't there' but it never happened.
   Krista stood next to me and put her arm around my waist.
I wasn't interested in her but didn't mind the contact. Her
fingers began to wander around my lower back and then down
to the waistband of my wet shorts. Eventually she slipped
below the waistband and cupped the upper half of my right
butt cheek, her fingers almost imperceptibly caressing my
ass. That's as far as it went.
   Mr. and Mrs. Edison were out of town that weekend. We
boys stayed the night. There was some very underage drinking
going on and a very cute boy named Kevin ended up in just
his underwear and got very friendly and cuddly with everyone
- boys and girls alike.
   The next morning we were back in the pool when the girls
showed up again. We weren't naked but Kevin was still in
just his 'tighty whitey' underwear which by this time had
become ripped in various places and was soaking wet from the
pool. The girls had a hay-day with this, grabbing his undies
at every opportunity and shredding them more. He couldn't
have cared less and I found it all very arousing. Half his
adorable little ass was showing as were his testicles for
the most part and occasionally - depending on the angle -
his dick. I was praying one of the girls would just rip the
damn things off him but no such luck.
   I lost touch with Kevin shortly after that and then heard
that he had died while still in his teens. Some rare cancer
or leukemia or something. He was such a sweet kid. Too sad.


OLD MACDONALD

   I was taking a photography class in grade ten and one
Saturday I biked up a 200-foot ridge (locally referred to as
'the mountain') and went to a park that offered a grand view
of the city. I snapped some pictures and strolled through
the flower gardens. I noticed a woman about my mother's age
seemed to always be in the area and kept looking at me.
   I sat on a bench overlooking the view and looked through
the camera, fiddling with the aperture and shutter speed and
what not. I sensed someone taking a seat beside me. It was
the woman. She started up a conversation. She asked about my
interest in photography and school in general. Her name was
Marilyn MacDonald (her real name by the way) and she turned
out to be a high school teacher but at a different school
than mine. She told me how she'd married a farmer's son at
an early age and they were still together with two kids - on
a farm of their own in a rural community about a half-hour
away. Apparently her husband was a little older and had had
his eye on her for a while before her parents allowed her to
date. She explained that she had never dated or 'been' with
anyone but him.
   I had a pretty good idea where all this was going and
even though I was pretty sure I was gay I wasn't sure if I
might be bisexual and wasn't entirely against the idea of
finding out.
   She confessed that some of her own students had started
to catch her eye. This didn't shock me. I had a female math
teacher in a class where I sat in the front row. Whenever I
wore shorts I would repeatedly catch her looking at my legs.
   Marilyn asked if I had a girlfriend and smiled when I
said no. She told me that her husband felt bad that as a
teenager she had never experienced sex with anyone but him
and that he now invited her to do so - but not with a man.
He wanted to be her only man but she could have sex with a
teenager if she wanted and suggested that she find a virgin
to educate in the ways of sex. She said I was cute and asked
had I had sex before. She was pleased when I confessed that
I hadn't. Was I interested in getting together with her some
time, she wanted to know. I said quite possibly, and she
gave me her number.
   When we'd said good-byes and she left, I watched her walk
across the parking lot to the far side and climb into a pick-
up truck. I turned back to the view and listened as the
truck pulled up to the near side of the lot and parked
again. Moments later I felt her hand on my shoulder.
   "Do you want to get together now?" she asked. "Will you
come home with me?"
   I did. On the ride to her farm she assured me that we
would be alone. She told me that she'd been looking for a
young man for some time and that she'd placed an ad in a
newspaper. It garnished just one reply but the 18-year-old
had declined at the last moment.
   We arrived at the farmhouse and sat in the living room,
me on the couch. It didn't take long for things to heat up.
She started to undress and I started to do likewise but she
asked me to wait. She wanted to do that for me.
   In just her bra and panties she came to me and lifted my
t-shirt off. I lifted my ass so she could take my shorts
down. She removed my socks. I kept hearing creaking noises
as she stripped me and I asked her more than once - was she
sure we were alone in the house. There was no other vehicle
in the lane-way but there was a garage and the door was
shut. She assured me more than once that we were alone and
next thing I knew her hand was inside my underwear playing
with my dick. I marveled at the new sensation.
   I thought I should reciprocate so I touched her breasts
and she reached behind her to remove her bra. Off came my
underwear, then hers. My dick was finally hard. I was hoping
she'd suck it but she never did. She lay back on the couch
and guided me inside. No condom. It was the wettest damn
place I'd ever been. There was just so little friction I
wondered how I'd get off. This didn't compare to a pillow at
all.
   "I'm sorry I'm so wet," she actually said to me.
   We went at it for a while. She continually ran her hands
along my back and ass which felt good. I just wished there
was more friction.
   I don't know if it was a sixth sense or what but suddenly
I was absolutely positive we were not alone. I pulled out.
   "Someone's in the house!" I insisted. She held on to me
like she was afraid I'd bolt.
   "It's okay," she said. "It's just my husband." I looked
around wildly and there he was. I saw his head pulling back
behind the corner of the hallway.
   "Come out," she told him. "It's okay," she said to me.
"He just wants to watch. He won't touch you!"
   My dick was softening quickly. This had become awfully
weird all of a sudden. Her husband walked over and
introduced himself. He knew my name already. He'd been
listening to us the whole time. Here I was naked on my
knees, straddling his wife on his couch. He shook my hand
while his wife was shaking my dick, trying to keep it alive.
I was sure I couldn't go on at this point.
   He scooped up my clothes from the floor, half-hazardly
folding them and placing them on the coffee table. He
complimented me on my body and urged us to continue while he
took a seat and watched. I realized at this time that his
motives were not entirely unselfish. He was clearly getting
something out of this.
   We rutted some more, working up a good sweat. I got over
the creepiness and started to get turned on at the idea of
an audience. It took forever to come but I did. She didn't
as far as I recall. The husband had taken my shorts and
undies in the meantime and they were now in his hands on his
lap. I don't know if he'd sniffed them or what.
   Marilyn donned her panties and put on MY t-shirt. It was
snug on her and I was a little irritated. I wanted to get
dressed but they had confiscated everything but my socks. It
was strange to be sitting around completely naked with two
clothed adults while the wife sat beside me and continued to
fondle my body. We talked for a while. The husband repeated
many of the things she'd already told me. They'd got their
story straight, true or not.
   Eventually they surrendered my clothes, watched me dress
and drove me back to the park, me sitting between them in
the truck. They made me promise to call them but I didn't. I
was shocked one day when my mother answered the phone,
passed it to me and it was Marilyn. I can only surmise that
I had some kind of ID in my shorts and that's how they were
able to look up our number.
   This pissed me off because now I had to come up with some
story when my mother demanded to know who Marilyn was.
   They really wanted to hook up again but I never did.
That's the only time I've ever had my dick in a woman. I'm
36 now and I sometimes wonder if I've got a 20-year old son
or daughter somewhere!


To be continued.