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By (user no longer on site) OP 46 weeks ago
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Started to write a little. It will get raunchier because life did!
Thoughts please. Don't hold back Y'all
The Cucumber Chronicles.
Ever since I can remember I've been fascinated by the opposite sex. Having a semi decent memory, I remember a lot from my youth; The clean smell of Imperial Leather Soap (As bodywash hadn't yet been invented yet) , Vosene Shampoo, Red Nail Polish, Red Lipstick, Blusher/Rouge Big Hair...The BDSM borderline Smut videos my babysitter used to put on our VCR player when my parents weren't around! The sight of jiggly titties and swinging hard cocks never left me.
I remember sneaking up to the crack of the living room door to be faced with a slit eye view of flesh and leather. I remember a lot. Not so much newer memories now, but the older ones are still as vivid as ever.
My knowledge of the human form, female in particular came from around the age of nine when I found a bin liner full of porn magazines and 2 Video Cassettes, whilst doing my weekend paper round. I hid them in the garage which was rarely entered by the other household members. I can't remember if I enticed other lads or where the knowledge of my stash got out, but in no time at all I was renting these magazines out for 20p/each per night and the Videos at £1/night. Alternatively, Swaps were also available. For my little self, I was Stacking It! Damage to either tape or mag incurred a penalty. Normally a good kick in. I wasn't very strong but what I lacked in skill I made up for with pent up aggression and rage.
My sexual development started around my secondary school years. Puberty isn't kind to some. Couple that with old time English crossed with Semi Islamic parenting that didn't involve much time, dialogue, advice or conversation and you'll get the gist.
I was aware of most things but never taught officially, until those early crude yet outdated Sex Education classes of the 90's.
When things aren't explained and a person begins a journey of self exploration to seek answers, they may find the fraction of life they've discovered takes over the entirety of their living. Well it did with me for sure. I became obsessed with sex.
Every opportunity I got I'd be tugging away at my Drill Sargeant. Choking the chicken in time honed perfection. I could bust one out in minutes as many times a day as I wanted!
Life was good. As good as it can get for a Psoriatic fat hermit with no other ambition but to get laid or for now, fill tissues and socks with boy glue.
I developed my fantasies more and more and immersed myself in to this realm where I could totally control outcomes, playmates, scenes and scenarios, and I'll be honest to say it consumed me.
There was little to nothing else going on for me. My parents were very focused and busy people. There approach was stern or nothing at all. Their time with my Sibling and I was limited to say the least.
My brothers social and extra curriculum schedule meant we didn't see much of each other, which at the time suited me fine for I was on a path, a path of exploration, of adventure, of orgasm after orgasm.
Though fascinated by the female gender, I'd only ever managed to rub them up the wrong way. Pissing off the local girls and school mates alike. I'd label my behaviour back then as boisterous, inconsiderate and maybe a little offending.
I wasn't taught! You learn what you can where you can and take the snippets that suit. I think I'm still to this day explaining myself for the fear of judgement when my heart wants to give society, culture and conformity the middle finger.
Girls began to become my focus. Before the age of the Internet, our peers and television were the guiding light in what was to be deemed cool and fashionable for the era. The late 80's come early 90's were a mish mash of colours and cultures.
Shell Suits through to Baggy Ware. Bhangra, Reggae and Hip Hop provided the soundtrack to a vibrantly new rising and exciting time in my life. I became self aware and started to develop a character. Not one for others, but one in which I could feel complete Being, Living.
I started losing my chubby exterior by replacing meals with the stagnant smoke provided by Mr Benson and Mr Hedges. I shed loads. I was a hairy little fellow from the get go. My early shearing is a memory that gives me shivers and giggles together. Religion meant that having a hairy ball sack wasn't permissable. I'm glad there was somewhere I could learn some real livable traits and hygiene improvement techniques. After cutting my groin area down from the field of dreams to smooth as ice, restyling my entirety along with this body that was a fraction of its previous state, Buying some new clothes and colognes, I set out to woo the lasses.
I didn't have to wait long, or go far at all.
It feels like it just happened over night too. My family home was slap bang facing an all girls comprehensive school. To my advantage there are only twenty odd houses facing the school and around 5 lads in total of the age range appealing to school girls and 6th formers. Two of the lads were Mummy's boys, 1 looked like Qasimodo on a good day and the other had found his niche in life when he tried his first spliff. I was by now the loud outspoken one with the lads and full of smiles, admiration and niceness towards the girls.
Rarely did I leave the house around breaks and lunch times and not be greeted to the sound of wolf whistles and taunting. I rarely went to school myself. No one checked.
It was at the tender age of 13 that my dick felt a warm hand, lips and mouth around them for the first time. We were of similar ages Sal and I. She'd bunk off school and come to mine equipped with Rizla, Cigarettes and Weed taken from her dad's mobile shop. We'd get high, lie in bed and make out. Discovering each others every teasable nook and cranny. What started with days and days of snogging, slowly went down south towards nipple/tit play, lots of tit groping and sucking for what seemed a lifetime to travelling further down south to the stubbled, moist and aromatic parting between Sals legs.
Both being young, scared and with Asian parents, we were equally scared to go further, yet wanted to. Mutual wanking and dry humping ensued for a while, a long fucking while!
The day finally came where we had sex. It wasn't all roses and candles, or even a clean bed No! We fucked for the first time after an intense phone call. Her parents were out and she was minding her siblings, as well as you can from another room with a corded phone in one hand whilst the other frantically finger fucked her hole.
She wasn't having no for an answer. I was summoned to her back garden where she met me in her nightsuit and nightgown (80's Sexy!). She handed me a condom she borrowed from under her mums mattress turned away from me, pulled down her pyjama bottoms, pulled her pink heart knickers to the side and whispered in my ear as she pulled my face towards hers for a snog "Give it to me baby"
Those 4 or 5 minutes were intense. I was holding her body and soul in my hands but for the fear of her dad turning up with a Kirpan I was kissing her with an eye open.
I remember the John Wayne walk home in the sodding Manchester Rain. Yes...The Fine One! I was naturally on a high and skipping steps. Euphoric, that's the word.
We only ever fucked the once though we had regular meetings and oral sex for the weeks to follow. Sals next period changed our fate though. She came on so heavy that it meant a trip to A&E. Doctors weren't concerned about patient privacy and Sals recent sexual activities were brought up in front of her not so Liberal Sikh parents.
"DICKING! FUCKING! BASTARDIYE!! AT YOUR AGE! WITH A PAKI!!! A PAAKEEEE! in the best punjabiest manc accent you can muster up.
Sal took the culturally associated beating and I had half of South Manchesters Ice Cream Vans and Mobile shops searching for me with angry family members adorned with Kirpans wanting my blood. We ended up calling it a day.
I stopped going to school completely. I'd befriended a girl who was a few years older than me and had her own bedsit flat.
She was on benefits and had a part time job as a cash in hand cleaner for an older man. I later found out that the services were of a sexual nature too. I didn't care though. She provided me food, a shelter, good friendship and one morning, Head to my Morning Wood.
Denny didn't care that I was 14 and she was nearing 18. She didn't see a problem with me as I was, or my religion/culture. She just wanted Dick. Dick in the morning, afternoon and evening. She did wonders for my libido and my power to keep going. |
