Sexual Awareness

I became sexually aware at the age of 15. My body had been sexually active since I was about 14, but that had only manifested in sudden and random erections, which I had quite quickly learned how to deal with from a conversation at school.

My 'awareness' came about one day while looking at a picture of a celebrity. I cannot remember who it was but she had what I considered to be great breasts. For the first time in my life it occurred to me that I would really like to get my hands on some breasts.

I am not totally sure why this had never occurred to me before. As a paper boy in the early 80's I had religiously checked out the topless pictures in the Sun, Star and Mirror and thought they were great. It had never once occurred to me that I would ever want to do anything other than just look at them. Of course getting my hands on the breasts of this particular celebrity seemed pretty unlikely. But with a sudden urge to resolve I started pondering my options.

Up to that time all women had been viewed in much the same way I viewed my mum, I had of course noticed that there were attractive women in this world but they all seemed to be other worldly, on the TV or in magazines.

It was then that it came to me. What had I been thinking! every women had breasts! Every single one I walked past, short, fat, tall skinny, young and old had breasts. Had I been blind all this time? There were loads of women out there, Surely one of them would want my soft, eager little hands on their breasts?

With this great revelation in mind I then set about working on my criteria. At the starting end of the range I of course included girls of the same age, it dawned on me there were some really hot ones at school. I also considered that all women younger than my mum should also be included. Anyone looking like my mum or seeming older was off scope.

As it turned out I was about one year away from achieving my objective, during which time it also occurred to me that there were a few other things I would like to do with the suitable candidate; sex type stuff!

Being fairly methodical by character, I began research and was quickly gathering a good stockpile of reference material. Porn was to be my educator in readiness for the great moment, mostly for lack of any other substantive education from any other source.

If my parents ever read this, god forbid! They will at this point look up and word to each other 'but we were always open with them about sex!'.

Of course 'always open' was a 4.5 second dialogue that described the journey of a sperm that had magically found its way into a women's vagina via some vile contraption called the 'erect penis', through fertilisation of the egg that also seemed to magically be hanging about, which would then grow and 9 months later appear as a baby.

I did know there was nothing magical about the baby appearing because we had all seen a video at school that was so horrific and bloody that half the class had either passed out or thrown up.

The 'always open' will obviously be represented differently in their minds than in mine and my sisters. For instance. After one of the weekly antiseptic 'sex education' classes at school I had considered myself not for the first time to be very fortunate on the gender front. It seemed women had a pretty rough deal. Not only was there the giving birth thing but we had just found out that once a month women bled like you wouldn't believe and had to stick Tampax inside them to soak up the bleeding. That did not look like fun at all!

On top of this at the same time something happened with their minds that made them grumpy. Was this why my mum was always getting on at me? but with her it seemed like a permanent thing!

So, knowing of course that we lived in a house where we were welcome to ask any question on the subject of sex I decided to ask mum when I got home.

To this day I remember walking into the kitchen straight from hanging my jacket up in the conservatory. Mum was standing on a stool hanging damp socks onto one of the extending washing lines in the kitchen.

“Mum?”

“Yes John”

“Do you use tampax?”

The question was never answered. She wobbled a bit on the stool, clung onto the line and stayed there till I left. I thought it was a bit odd but was used to this sort of thing from my mum. I did know hanging around waiting for an answer probably wasn't in my best interests.

A few days later, my dad shouted from the Garage

“John! here a minute”

Dad spent a lot of his time in the garage, he would go there after tea and come out for the news at nine. I do know this because I listened to this routine for 18 years from my bed. It is imprinted in my mind as sure as the sounds and imagery of yesterday are.

So it stood that whenever dad had fathering duties to perform, especially in regard to my behaviour, it is to the garage one went. Generally I was not worried for my physical well being, dad only hit me twice in all my childhood, the first time I have forgiven him for. Dad though was very accomplished at making you think! he was going to hit you at any given moment.

“John you must not ask your mother inappropriate questions!”

I had of course forgotten about the Tampax thing the minute I got to my room, and we were talking days ago! So I was obviously confused.

“What question dad?”

“The one you asked your mother the other day”

I thought long and very hard, I rewound the events of the last few days and eventually the light bulb went on.

“Ohh that question”

“But you and mum always said we could ask you anything!”

“I know son but there are just some questions you do not ask a women and that is one of them”

I was really confused, but what questions should I ask, how was I to know which ones were right and which were wrong. They were just questions to me. I voiced this to him.

“Go to your room now son”

I decided that it was probably safer to just not ask any questions at all, other than those we already knew were on the 'ok' list.

Me and my sister occasionally used to ask to see how quickly they could rattle through the sperm to baby scenario;

“Mum tell us about how babies are born?”

“Well ....”sometimes it would take less than 4.5 seconds, seldom more.

“Dad tell us about how babies are born?”

“Ask your mother!”

Eventually, through a series of random events that had nothing to do with my ability to communicate with young girls, I did find a 15 year old that seemed extremely keen to stuff my hands up her lose fitting jumper. She was also pretty keen on that which seemed determined to escape the confines of my suddenly small trousers. Despite my ardour said parents had firmly engrained in my mind that 'sex' with anyone outside of wedlock was tantamount to signing your soul away to the devil. Doing 'sex' with a 15 year old would result in an eternity burning among the fires of hell, after which you would then rot for another 20 in jail.

Needless to say we settled on a two way grope, although even this was tempered on account of my mum sweeping into the bedroom with a cup of coffee for me, which she had only ever done if I was poorly, which I most certainly was not at that time. I did have a long list of things I wanted to do with this girl when she hit 16 though, marriage was not one of them.

Unfortunately all my nefarious plans with said girl had to be aborted after my porn stockpile was discovered during a random cell inspection. That led to a rather more harrowing incident for this emerging 16 year old than I care to detail here. Hell knows what they would have done if they had ever found me masturbating while flicking through a copy of Muscle! Which for the record I have never done.

Now somewhat scarred by my parents on the whole topic of sex, I resolved it would only be something I explored when in a parent free environment. Fortunately that was only 18 months away, they kicked me out. It would be a year after leaving that I would swap the big V for a big wolfish grin one night in Birmingham, about as far away from my parents as my meagre savings could get me.


Submission: 23 May 2006
Revision: none

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