Step Three: The End and the Beginning>>>
Hold on to your hats, my friends, because you may become a bit queasy with what I am about to share. I truthfully feel there is nothing I did which was wrong, but most of your are so stuck in the fucking dark ages that you will pass judgement. I expect that. People are always ready to judge what others do if it does not fit into their little thimbleful of experience. So...you have been warned. Now, get over yourself and continue with the read.
As my elementary years were coming to a close, certain things became my constant companion. The thoughts I had about some of the people with whom I had contact on an almost daily basis were somewhat overpowering at times. Along with my constant manipulation of the adults around me, I began to devise ways in which to manipulate the kids. I wanted nothing as much as I wanted to see most of the Fighter-Boys without clothes. I really wanted to touch them but that is for another part of this story.
As my incredible luck would have it, along came an after school program that was right up my alley, in more ways than one, ha, ha, ha. A big, ugly, yellow, are there any other kind, school bus was to pick us up once a week and deposit us at the nearest YMCA (Young Men-Clothing Away) for a couple hours of pure visual feasting. Now, I have to tell you, we had very little money so I had to do something. I could NOT let such an incredible opportunity pass me by, hell no! Hear the wheels spinning.
It was also during this time, I began to realize that I had a kind of charm that seemingly transcended age, race, color, creed, and anything else you might think of. People absolutely loved me. I honestly could not have cared less about most of them, but you already knew that. I could get the best things from people if I just batted an eye or gave a wink or directed some attention their way. So... a plan had begun to formulate in my little head that was so incredibly full of brains. I had to find a way to make that money, OR find the person I would suck up to in order to get it. Who would it be????
Mr. Eugene was a blast. I believe he must have been a hundred or so, but he was a fun guy. He actually went out of his way, at times, to make us young pains in the ass, laugh (and it usually worked). He, as I already told, like everyone else, absolutely loved me (you will see this phrase quite a bit because it is so fucking true). I concocted a story that would have him as my "benefactor." The problem was the fact that he and my sainted mother were almost what you would consider friends. He had invited us to his house for lemonade and lunch or something like that. She had invited the class to our house for some party thing, which pissed me off because I didn't want all those little fuck-heads to know where I put my head at night. Anyway, I had to think this through a bit better than the earlier red hoodie fiasco. I had honed my skills on the tail bone incident and had to proceed in a kind of caution, with a twist, manner.
I got on my bicycle one fine late winter day and worked out the final portion of my plan. It involved many things and was something I was positive would work famously. I got to his development and turned down the street that connected to his. I pedaled about twenty stroke, putting myself halfway between his house and the main road from which I had just turned, and twisted the wheel of my bike hard to the left ensuring that I would fly over the handlebars. Wow, was that stupid. Although pain is really not a problem for me, disfigurement, even for a short time, is. I landed on my head where my hair-line meets my forehead, then slid and rolled a few feet on the street. It produced the effect I was after but did something I had thought of but had hoped would not happen. The lady in the house on the right came out in a rush to make an attempt at comforting me. I actually had to call her a cunt before she would leave me alone.
Walking down the street, it was only about four houses, with blood running down my face, I was trying to work up the tears that were needed for this to come to fruition. Finally, just as I came to Mr. Eugene's driveway, my eyes did what I needed them to do. The blubbering part was easy, I had done that for years already. I knocked on the door and it was answered by the man himself, thank God, because I hadn't even thought about his wife. He took one look at me and his eyes nearly bugged out of his nearly bald head. He put his arm around my shoulder, led me to the bathroom and immediately began to sop up the blood in an amazingly gentle manner. He told me that he would call my mother and then take me home. My plan was going even better than I had expected.
I told him that he couldn't do that because she did not have any idea where I was. Sobbing commenced again as I put my face on his shoulder and gave him a light kiss on the neck. I felt him shudder, but he did nothing other than continue to pet my hair. I gave it about five minutes, calmed down accordingly, then went into the fact that we didn't have much money and I was looking for ways to make enough to I could go to the YMCA thing. He gave it to me. (Well, actually he just paid for it, but the end product was my ability to go and see all the Fighter-Boy dicks, and asses, too, I wanted to see. He did take me and my mangled bike home and mom really didn't have much to say. The bleeding had stopped so there wasn't much reason for stitches and the scar is something I have grown to love.
As this little production went, so did the next year and a half. I rode out the fifth grade, went on to new teachers, all women, who again treated me like gold. Unlike the rest of the world, we did not have middle school. Our elementary school went through sixth grade, so I had another spring with the Fighter-Boys, as well as boys from other places. Let me tell you now, sixth grade is the best. Some of us were still kids and others, had bodies like that of nearly grown men. I loved seeing pubes. In fact, I found out that I really liked seeing the older guys when they would come in and dress near us. I was actually caught looking more than once by a couple of different guys. I didn't want the same dude to see me more than once because that may have been too much for him. I found it mesmerizing to look at those long cocks hanging from a bush of kinky fur with the beautiful balls behind, everything swaying to the movements inherent in changing.
My world had opened up with such unbridled possibilities that I could not wait for the next step.
As my elementary years were coming to a close, certain things became my constant companion. The thoughts I had about some of the people with whom I had contact on an almost daily basis were somewhat overpowering at times. Along with my constant manipulation of the adults around me, I began to devise ways in which to manipulate the kids. I wanted nothing as much as I wanted to see most of the Fighter-Boys without clothes. I really wanted to touch them but that is for another part of this story.
As my incredible luck would have it, along came an after school program that was right up my alley, in more ways than one, ha, ha, ha. A big, ugly, yellow, are there any other kind, school bus was to pick us up once a week and deposit us at the nearest YMCA (Young Men-Clothing Away) for a couple hours of pure visual feasting. Now, I have to tell you, we had very little money so I had to do something. I could NOT let such an incredible opportunity pass me by, hell no! Hear the wheels spinning.
It was also during this time, I began to realize that I had a kind of charm that seemingly transcended age, race, color, creed, and anything else you might think of. People absolutely loved me. I honestly could not have cared less about most of them, but you already knew that. I could get the best things from people if I just batted an eye or gave a wink or directed some attention their way. So... a plan had begun to formulate in my little head that was so incredibly full of brains. I had to find a way to make that money, OR find the person I would suck up to in order to get it. Who would it be????
Mr. Eugene was a blast. I believe he must have been a hundred or so, but he was a fun guy. He actually went out of his way, at times, to make us young pains in the ass, laugh (and it usually worked). He, as I already told, like everyone else, absolutely loved me (you will see this phrase quite a bit because it is so fucking true). I concocted a story that would have him as my "benefactor." The problem was the fact that he and my sainted mother were almost what you would consider friends. He had invited us to his house for lemonade and lunch or something like that. She had invited the class to our house for some party thing, which pissed me off because I didn't want all those little fuck-heads to know where I put my head at night. Anyway, I had to think this through a bit better than the earlier red hoodie fiasco. I had honed my skills on the tail bone incident and had to proceed in a kind of caution, with a twist, manner.
I got on my bicycle one fine late winter day and worked out the final portion of my plan. It involved many things and was something I was positive would work famously. I got to his development and turned down the street that connected to his. I pedaled about twenty stroke, putting myself halfway between his house and the main road from which I had just turned, and twisted the wheel of my bike hard to the left ensuring that I would fly over the handlebars. Wow, was that stupid. Although pain is really not a problem for me, disfigurement, even for a short time, is. I landed on my head where my hair-line meets my forehead, then slid and rolled a few feet on the street. It produced the effect I was after but did something I had thought of but had hoped would not happen. The lady in the house on the right came out in a rush to make an attempt at comforting me. I actually had to call her a cunt before she would leave me alone.
Walking down the street, it was only about four houses, with blood running down my face, I was trying to work up the tears that were needed for this to come to fruition. Finally, just as I came to Mr. Eugene's driveway, my eyes did what I needed them to do. The blubbering part was easy, I had done that for years already. I knocked on the door and it was answered by the man himself, thank God, because I hadn't even thought about his wife. He took one look at me and his eyes nearly bugged out of his nearly bald head. He put his arm around my shoulder, led me to the bathroom and immediately began to sop up the blood in an amazingly gentle manner. He told me that he would call my mother and then take me home. My plan was going even better than I had expected.
I told him that he couldn't do that because she did not have any idea where I was. Sobbing commenced again as I put my face on his shoulder and gave him a light kiss on the neck. I felt him shudder, but he did nothing other than continue to pet my hair. I gave it about five minutes, calmed down accordingly, then went into the fact that we didn't have much money and I was looking for ways to make enough to I could go to the YMCA thing. He gave it to me. (Well, actually he just paid for it, but the end product was my ability to go and see all the Fighter-Boy dicks, and asses, too, I wanted to see. He did take me and my mangled bike home and mom really didn't have much to say. The bleeding had stopped so there wasn't much reason for stitches and the scar is something I have grown to love.
As this little production went, so did the next year and a half. I rode out the fifth grade, went on to new teachers, all women, who again treated me like gold. Unlike the rest of the world, we did not have middle school. Our elementary school went through sixth grade, so I had another spring with the Fighter-Boys, as well as boys from other places. Let me tell you now, sixth grade is the best. Some of us were still kids and others, had bodies like that of nearly grown men. I loved seeing pubes. In fact, I found out that I really liked seeing the older guys when they would come in and dress near us. I was actually caught looking more than once by a couple of different guys. I didn't want the same dude to see me more than once because that may have been too much for him. I found it mesmerizing to look at those long cocks hanging from a bush of kinky fur with the beautiful balls behind, everything swaying to the movements inherent in changing.
My world had opened up with such unbridled possibilities that I could not wait for the next step.
posted by johnathan e | 11:23 AM
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