posted on January 08, 2013 00:00
If you haven’t read “The Intro”, you may want to go back and do so. For the rest of you, I bring you the conclusion…proceed with caution:
So my sexual awakening was fucking awesome to me, and I was thoroughly enjoying my daily habit, when shit had to go and get complicated. Over the period of time that my masturbation was evolving, so were my hormones and stages of puberty.
Then, one scary fucking day, instead of the little “twitch” I would get after a while of self-abuse, my little friend began to convulse and pulsate in my britches. Before I could figure out what the hell was going on, not that I would have, my pocket-pal had now betrayed me and spit some nasty venom all over the fucking place. This was no simple cleanup, as I had always left my pants completely pulled up and fastened up to this point in my endeavors. This is where I was glad, for the first time, that Ma had forced us kids to do our own laundry.
As you can imagine, I soon realized the joy of this new stage I was in and quickly learned to overcome the obstacles and adapt to the circumstances. There would be new steps in setup, execution, completion and cleanup, and I was soon a master (insert obvious joke here).
I won’t bore you with the details of how my jerking had evolved from twelve years of age until fifteen but, by the summer that I arrived in Texas, I was in full-blown, three showers per day, 45-minute shits, yelled at for using all the hot water and toilet paper-phase. I was splooging so much that I think it was actually a weight loss program. And being in another state was not about to change this glorious behavior. What I hadn’t counted on was my aunt.
My uncle’s wife, and I stress UNCLE’S WIFE as to drive home the NOT BLOOD RELATED fact, was a petite woman with dark hair and a very attractive body. While I’m sure she was always this way, it had been years since I had seen her and I just filled you in on what I had gone through during that period. So it’s fair to say I now had a whole new opinion of my aunt. There’s no way to sugarcoat this or make it sound okay, so I’ll just say it. My aunt became the object of my fantasies and the “jerk-fodder” for the summer of 1986.
This was all innocent and fine until, as usual, my sick fucking mind took over and I just had to push the ole’ envelope. While the adults were working and I was home babysitting the cousins one day, I couldn’t seem to steal away for any quality meat-beat time. I thought I could make it through a full day, but by now I had become the masturbating equivalent of a homeless crack-head, sucking off truck drivers for change, always chasing the high. I was jones-ing and jones-ing bad. I needed a fix and the purple-headed Little General was calling my name. I had to distract myself to get my mind off of my other mind.
I decided to clean house and did I ever. I would’ve made 40-year old housewives proud with the cleaning I put on that mother-fucker, all to keep from assaulting myself. When I had completed dusting, dishes, vacuuming, windows and all other chores I could think of, I figured I’d do everybody’s laundry and really score some points in the meantime. This proved to be too much.
I went room to room and began gathering clothes and sorting loads. But when I got to my aunt and uncle’s room, there it was, like a plastic worm beckoning a largemouth bass, a skimpy little pair of my aunt’s panties. Yeah, that’s what I said. I can still see them today. Well these were simply just too much. I had the willpower of Tiger Woods as the RA in an all-girls dorm and soon pounced on this piece of lacy goodness like a club to a baby seal.
I had never even done this, but soon my face was smashed against the crotch, taking in this newfound euphoria, as if it just belonged there. It just must be instinct! Yes, my friends, the first hint I got of the purest, most wonderful thing on earth, was from the underwear of my own aunt. I’ll try to salvage a little dignity here and refer you back to the fact that she was NOT blood related, and now not even a relative at all, but it really doesn’t change the disturbia you feel, now does it? I’m sure I’m not the only man who ever fantasized and such about a relative as a youth, but once again, I tend to speak of these things whereas others are wise enough to just lock them away in the life vault.
I was really into everything about this Holy Grail I had discovered but, thankfully, not THAT into it…or at least just yet. I still don’t know how far I would’ve taken it but I never had the chance to find out.
“What are you doing?” I heard from behind me in the bedroom doorway.
Horror overcame my body and I experienced one of my first bouts of instant shrinkage. I dropped my aunt’s panties (sounds wrong no matter how many times you say it, huh?) and turned around to see my 9-year old cousin standing there with a look of bewilderment on her face I remember to this day.
My quick thinking came in handy and I was soon explaining that I was gathering laundry and didn’t know if these were clean or dirty. While she seemed a bit grossed out, and this would still be gross in a whole other category, it seemed logical to the mind of a 9-year old. So logical, in fact, that she apparently forgot about it and never even mentioned it to her folks, and completely forgot about it herself after a while.
I know this because my jackass friends took it upon themselves to remind her one night when she visited in her twenties and we were all sitting around throwing back some brews. She had no recollection at all but I was still sitting there reliving my nightmare of 15-years earlier all over again.
I often think of how awful it would have been, and how much more therapy I would’ve had by now had, my cousin walked in ten minutes later and found me naked from the waist down, with one hand on my junk and the other force-feeding her mother’s skivvies into my nostrils. Poor girl would’ve had to slaughter a Shetland pony to get that image out of her head…as many of you may now have to, as well.
Yes, I’m that fucked up…KMFP-out!
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