Author: JojoMojo
Title: Rememberings 1 Beginnings
Part: part 1
Universe: Rememberings
Summary: This story sets the stage for my series about my own sexual experiences growing up.  It starts in the 3rd grade when I had my first experience.
Keywords: f-teen/b, pedo, cons, true?


Rememberings - Beginnings
   By JojoMojo  
     
(f-teen/b ped, cons, true?)


Copyright ©2009 by the author.

Note to the reader -
In my profile and the introductions to some of my stories,  I state that as I write, I reflect on things that I experienced as a child, what felt good, what didn't...  

I decided to elaborate on the things that I experienced as a child for two reasons: 

1) The memories are very powerful and I know they drive my desires and behaviors to this day, so I wanted to get them and written down so I can better understand my desires; 

2) I hope that there are others out there who have had similar experiences who may be interested in reading or sharing.  

While I've tried to keep to the facts, these memories have been rattling around in my head (and feeding fantasies) for many years, so I can't be 100% sure they are entirely accurate (who can with events that happened years ago?).  I realize that I am writing memories as an adult that were made as a child with a child's awareness (or lack there of) of the world. Lastly, I am an author and can't help embellishing where memory fails.

I've kept dialog to a minimum because frankly who can remember conversations from so long ago?  In a few cases, where the phrases are cemented in my memory, I've done my best to recreate them or paraphrase the dialog to best recreate the feelings it invoked.

I also take time out occassionaly to comment or fill in gaps, facts, etc.  I hope will bear with me.

If my experiences strike a chord with you, please feel free to write me an email.  I'd love to hear your story.  If you are tempted to send flames, don't waste your time... JojoMojo@mail.com 

Ok, ok - I can hear you saying, "Enough already, get to the story..."




I was a solitary child growing up in the bread basked of the US with parents who loved me in their own way but were busy with their lives and didn't pay me a whole lot of attention.  Consequently, I spent a lot of time entertaining myself, playing games with imaginary friends, watching TV, etc.  Of course, I also spent time playing with neighborhood friends when I could, but for the most part I was expected to stay inside, out of trouble and out of the way.  So, that cut into my time with other kids significantly.

My earliest memory of anything sexual was the good feeling I got when I touched my dick.  I think that it started around the age of six and I assume I took advantage of a morning stiffy the first time.  I do know that I got into the habit of absent mindedly stroking myself when I thought no one was looking.  Needless to say, as a child I was not as discrete as I thought I was being and it resulted in my mother catching me with my hand in my pants and admonishing me on numerous occasions.  By the time I was eight, her frustration with my “bad habit” had escalated to spankings when she caught me.  At this point, the rubbing only felt good, I didn't experience any orgasms.  

Strangely, even though I was stimulating myself, I do not have any memories of playing doctor or initiating sex play with other kids during this time.  I don't think I equated it with something I would do with someone else or even that anyone else could feel the good feelings I was feeling.  I kind of assumed I had discovered this secret pleasure spot that only I had.

My third grade year brought Miss Brown into my life.  She was my teacher, a young woman probably in her first or second year of teaching who I just knew was the most beautiful I had ever seen.  She had the kindest voice, like music, I thought, and she smelled great!  I got weak in the knees and went speechless the first time I walked into her room.  As you may have guessed, I had a serious crush on Miss Brown.  Such a crush, in fact, that much to my embarrassment my dick seemed to have a mind of its own and would pop a stiffy in class if she bent over me to look at my work or put a hand on my shoulder.  

I didn't have any idea why it reacted this way, but it was a serious struggle not to touch myself in class sometimes.  I covered it by being a bit over the top in class, a little too active, a little too silly.  In truth, I was dancing or running around sometimes hoping that my antics would cover the fact that I was tenting my pants; hoping that the motion would help me loose my stiffy.

During that school year (I was eight at the time, I think) my parents began to be more socially active which meant babysitters.  We started with Mrs. Olson, an elderly woman who spoke with an accent and smelled funny.  She was strict and I remember my Dad complaining about how much she charged.  Thankfully one evening, she was unavailable at the last minute and my folks desperately called friends trying to find a replacement.  A neighbor recommended a teenager who was "very responsible" (I remember mom using that phrase in telling my dad about her) and who their kids loved.  Although they were dubious about a teenager, they thought I needed adult supervision, they were desperate and called the recommended replacement.  

Enter Bonnie and exit Miss Brown as the object of my crush.  Bonnie was v-e-r-y grown up to my eyes, 13 or 14 at that time.  Shoulder length blond hair, brown eyes, slender.  She seemed very tall, but looking back, I was small for my age so I would assume she was a pretty typical height for a girl her age, maybe five feet tall or a little more. I don't remember her having any breasts, but then, I wasn't of the age that I really noticed those things.  I do remember that she smelled nice.  By the time she had been at our house for an hour, I thought she hung the moon and was doing my best to be a perfect angel; anything to make sure she could come again.  Incredibly and to my great happiness, (probably because she was cheaper) Bonnie replaced Mrs. Olson as my babysitter after that first night.  When I knew my folks were going out, I could hardly contain my excitement at seeing Bonnie.  She was always fun, played board games with me, talked to me like I was a "grown up" and let me pick the things we ate for dinner or our snack.  The only thing she was a stickler for was bed time - there was no hope of staying up late.

Being in close proximity to Bonnie had the same effect on my privates that Miss Brown did and that eventually lead to the experiences that would shape my desires for the rest of my life.  When it all started, Bonnie had been taking care of me for a month or two, so probably four or five times.  It was late (for me) in the evening and I had taken my bath, dressed in PJs and was sitting on the floor, my back against the couch.  Bonnie was lying up on the couch watching TV, Carol Burnett, as I recall.  Her proximity had produced the usual effect and I desperately wanted to touch myself.  I had successfully snuck a stroke or two on previous evenings with her.  So, I glanced up over my shoulder.  Her eyes were glued to the TV, so I reached a finger through my fly and began stroking myself.  I was watching the TV and rubbing myself absent mindedly, almost in a trance, when all of a sudden I heard, "Hey! What are you doing?"  

I nearly jumped out of my skin and of course immediately lost my boner.  I turned to see Bonnie staring at me and started to babble, trying to come up with a plausible lie on the spot.  She cut me short, saying she had been watching me for some time and knew I was rubbing myself "down there".  I immediately dissolved into a snot blowing, crying fool.  On top of being embarrassed, I was sure that I was in trouble with her; would get a spanking when my folks came home (my mom would be horrified); and I figured I'd ruined things so that Bonnie would never come babysit again.  She knelt on the floor and put her hands on my cheeks, cradling my face, imploring me to stop crying.  I tried and eventually reduced my bawling to hiccups between words.  I hiccupped out all my fears and added that I was so sorry and it would never happen again finishing with a plea, "Just, please don't tell my Mom!"

She smiled, her brown eyes seemed very understanding, and promised not to tell.  Then she added, "You'll just have to keep a secret for me too."  As she said it she winked, gave me a big hug (she sure smelled good) and lay back down on the couch on her side.  That was the last thing she would say that evening until she told me to go up to bed.  

As she lay down, she patted the couch in front of her.  I took a step forward and she took my hand and pulled me onto the couch.  I sat down in front of her stomach on the edge of the couch so I wouldn't block her view.  I figured she was going to keep an eye on me so I wouldn't repeat my transgression.  She reached up and pulled me down to lay half on my side, half on my back, spooned up against her.  I put my head down on my right arm, so I could see the TV.  She had her head on a pillow so she could watch over top of my head.  She pulled me in close and we watched the rest of Carol Burnett together with her occasionally ruffling my hair.  I was in heaven through the rest of the show, but also couldn't help wondering what secret I was going to have to keep for her.  At the end of the show, I started to get up.  I knew that bedtime came right after Carol Burnett and that my folks had made a big deal about bed time when they first hired Bonnie.  

To my surprise, she put her hand on my shoulder and guided me back down in front of her.  The TV switched to another show.  I honestly don't remember what it was, as I was just enjoying being close to Bonnie.  I figured the secret I was supposed to keep was staying up later than my bed time.  At first I barely noticed, but as the TV droned on, she began rubbing the side of my leg, down as far as she could reach without stretching, then back up my side, down and across my chest to my stomach, then up my hip to start over again. 

I just lay there as she rubbed and not surprisingly, before long was sporting another stiffy.  I prayed that she wouldn't notice, almost afraid to breathe.  On the next pass, as she brought her hand up my thigh, she reached across to my other leg which meant as she brought her hand up towards my waist, her forearm rubbed across my boner.  It was all I could do to keep from pushing up to meet her touch.  I was scared stiff (no pun intended) I figured I'd be in even bigger trouble if she knew I'd gotten another boner.  She continued to rub me like that through that show.  When it was over, she announced I had better get on to bed.  

The next couple of times she babysat, it was the same thing, except that the rubbing started as soon as I came down from my bath to watch TV.  I was totally confused by this.  How could she not feel it?  I finally decided that she either didn't notice or that she was just too nice to mention my obvious stiffy.  Either way, I decided not to question, and to just lay there and enjoy it.  Being close to her was great, having a stiffy for an hour or more was really great!

One night as she was rubbing up the leg closest to her, she stretched her fingers out and just let the tips brush along the side of my stiff dick. At this age I was all of two or three inches, rock hard - not much to admire, really; not much length to brush along either (strangely, my dick didn't grow much beyond that three inches until the summer before middle school and even now, I am not "large" - arrested development, I guess).  She did this several times, moving more slowly each time as she brushed along my woody.  

Then on the next pass, she stretched her fingers a little further and rubbed along the underside of my dick.  After a few more passes, she used more than her fingertips bringing her palm along, cupping me as she moved.  On the next pass, she abandoned my stomach, chest and leg and began rubbing me through my PJs almost nonchalantly, as if it was something she had always done.  She rubbed for a while, then went back to her circular pattern, this time brushing my dick on each pass.  

Each time she came up across my stomach she pushed my shirt up a little.  I lay there perfectly still, head spinning, in heaven, unable to believe what was happening, a little afraid because I knew it was something I shouldn't be doing (it didn't occur to me that it was something that she shouldn't be doing); and I have to admit, a little confused.  It had never occurred to me that someone else would touch my woody, I figured my touching was an evil habit that I alone had discovered.

Once she got my shirt up a good ways, she went back and began rubbing my stiffy in earnest, still through my PJs.  After a little while longer, she slipped her fingers through my fly and touched me on the bare skin.  That first touch was like electricity shooting up my dick and through my body.  To this day the first touch from a partner is always magical.  I felt like I had been waiting for this kind of touch my whole life and just didn't know it.  It felt so good, like it was right, something meant to be.  I had a slight buzz in my ears from the excitement and the blood was pounding in my temples.  

She fondled me this way for the rest of the show, then when I offered no resistance, as the next show started, she unsnapped my bottoms and opened them up.  The sound of those snaps is engraved in my memory, the feel as she pulled to open them too.  The cool air on my skin surprised me and heightened my excitement.  She reached down and began her circular motion again, leg, stomach, chest.   I was desperate for her to touch my dick, almost frantic, but afraid to move, afraid if I made any motion at all, she would stop.  

Finally she began rubbing my stiffy again.  A side note here, I had never experienced an orgasm and tonight was not going to change that.  She continued fondling me through the entire TV show and half way through the next one (way late by my standards, which added to the taboo feeling).  Then she suddenly stopped, snapped my fly closed, pulled my shirt down and whispered in my ear, "you better get to bed before your folks get home," and gave me a little peck of a kiss on the ear. That was it, no acknowledgement of what had happened, just a kiss on the ear and off to bed.

I went to bed that evening head reeling with mixed emotions.  I was sure that I wanted her to do it again (and again, and again); was aching for a release that I didn't know existed and wouldn't come for some time; warm from being so close to her; able to smell her perfume on the arm and shoulder that had been against her; afraid she might not ever do it again and yet had a nagging feeling that what I had done would not be condoned by my mom.  I drifted off trying to figure out what had just happened and what I would do about it.

The next morning, I fearfully sat down for breakfast, sure that my mother knew something was up, that either Bonnie had told her (go figure) or that she would somehow "just know" in the way that mothers know about things you didn’t want them to.  But she babbled on about the show they had seen, asked what we ate for dinner (I really couldn't remember), same old routine as always.  I couldn't wait for the next time they went out which as fate would have it was the following weekend.

When the doorbell rang and my mom opened the door to reveal Bonnie, I was suddenly and inexplicably overcome with shyness.  I couldn't look her in the eye and was so flustered that my mom even noticed and much to my embarrassment made some comment about me having a crush on her.  They left soon after Bonnie came and strangely, nothing happened.  I kind of hoped and expected that she would start something as soon as we were alone (jump my bones, as it were).  We played board games, ate dinner and she sent me up for my bath, just like always.  I came down just in time for the start of Carol Burnett.  Bonnie was lying on the couch, on her side as usual.  I figured that what had happened the weekend before was a one time thing so began to sit down in front of the couch.  Bonnie, put her hand on my hip before I could sit and guided me onto the couch, laying me down in front of her.  

That evening and many others were essentially a repeat of the first with minor variations.  Bonnie became an expert at keeping me hard for two or more hours at a time.  Surprisingly as I look back, I never got blue balls during or after our sessions.  I guess I was too young.  Some evenings she would push my pants down to my ankles; others she would roll me fully onto my back so she could see what she was rubbing; one time she had me lie on my stomach hips raised slightly with one hand under me rubbing and the other hand stroking up and down the crack of my butt (that was great); another time when I was on my back, she pulled my knee up onto her leg, spreading my legs and rubbed around my balls, then down to tease my anus.  She never said a word during our "sessions" on the couch, just kept rubbing, keeping me in heaven, using her hands to guide me to the position she wanted.  Looking back, I think she was educating herself using my body.  I remember one time early on she tried squeezing my balls, that wasn't pleasant (I actually yelped then gagged) and she never repeated it.  I guess you could say she was a fast learner and I was a willing test subject.

Thinking back, there were times I could feel her other hand moving gently behind me.  I'm sure now that she was masturbating while she fondled me.  There was also the smell that I began to associate with our sessions, most noticeable when I pulled away from her to go to bed.  Something that I now know is the musky smell of aroused female sex.  To this day, that scent takes me to a special place.  Not only is it arousing (as I'm sure it is for all guys), but it is also comforting, a reminder of simpler times.  There were a couple of times that as I got up, I noticed that she was adjusting herself, zipping her jeans or pushing the leg of her shorts down.  We kept this up for the rest of my third grade school year and the summer following.  Things changed a bit when I entered fourth grade.

more to come... maybe

comments? – JojoMojo@mail.com
want similar stories?  http://www.asstr.org/~JojoMojo/

