Virginal Vignettes

1

Wanting to be snogged by pretty Shirley Betterley.

Who snogged boys in class sat ontop of Mr Andersons table.

Not snogging sweet either.

Tongue flicked into their mouths, dropping in spit.

She snogged out most of the lucky boys.

Except me.

2

So instead, kiss where it’s safe – under the dining room table with little 7 year old blonde cousin. As mommy and daddy.  Lips glued on together.

I was 9. This went on for 2 or 3 years more.  She liked it like me.

No fingers went anywhere underneath or between. Just the lips. No going into mouths.

Simple lips being sweet on one another, seeking affection, warmth, pleasure

3

In shuffly shuffle dance under my fat Grans sweaty armpits, squeezed ugly between her gobbler breasts.

With her gaping mouth she kissed me on the lips. Twice.

I avoided going anywhere near her after that.

4

Curly-blonde Dutch girl Annalise de Witt taking me off to the Cut and getting me to finger, gently, her little nubs of titties.

Soon my grubby hand is going up into her sweet smelling panties, not knowing where to land, lost.

Gluing thick kisses onto her small mouth. Tongueing those lips open.  Dribbling mouths together. Sucking out her tasty spit.

That’s what I wanted. I imagined. Possibly my first erotic fantasy.

5

The 2 older girls next door – Vaughans – “slappers” apparently.

Carole would call me loud out of bedroom window not dressed yet.

She’d gross over garden fence saying things to me I didn’t quite understand yet sort of understood. Sexy talk. About fannies.

But she was dirty. And probably ugly.

6

Aunt J with her black stiletto’s in the hallway, lined up high, pointy, and proud; waiting to go, to trot.

Her steepling walking in them, the sound of those clicked heels spiking hard against, spiked across.

The swishing slish of her black seamed nylon stockings

One Xmas she has lucky uncle J’s tongue down her throat, his eager hand up her short skirt. Mom – the older sister – with look of jealous disgust on.

Sat right close next to me on the bedroom floor she came, too close, with her long natural nails casually, deliberately, on my knee, provoking panic.

My little unsexed cock goes into shy spasm

Up very soon I get and scurry off to calm the embarrassment down quick.

7

The librarian woman with sharp shiny red nails, like precarious, fragile, feats of marvelous engineering.

Back at home, straight into the toilet imagining her long nails holding my willy.

I wasn’t even masturbating. Just imagining.

My todger was going up, risen hard  – “what the?…. is this?” whoosh!! – comes spurting white stuff gobbed all over library book on lap. I was 12. A fresh cock is born.

Back at that library as soon as; not out of nerdy interest in reading – but to stand shy, small, and sexual in front of her, aching to get that book stamped on by those killer nails.

(pages of book got glued together with my sticky white stuff)

8

Into the local offie for twix, a Karen Carpenter lookalike serving behind counter with long scarlet nails, black tight top on. The nails stroked long onto soft swollen bags of crisps, ready to puncture or pierce.

She was slender-thin this woman, breakable, violate-able.

Her nipples stiffening visibly once while she looked across at me, as if pointing out at my cock, asking it to, inviting me to – do something.

I couldn’’t. Still only a boy, an adolescent. (I was 19)

But she could have taught me surely?

To those kind of lessons I would have given my total unbored attention.

9

As it was, much solitary masturbatory pubescent time in toilet was furtively spent. Exploring and experimenting with myself.

There was banging on door and disdainful voice nagging suspiciously through: “What on earth are you doing in there”?

(she knew of course – my unsexy poor little mom)

I bought a lot of twix that summer.

It’s always been my chocolate of choice

mmm

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