MY CONFESSIONS part 1
I cannot tell you with any precision when I first frll in love with my b*****r Jake. It preceeds my consciousness of sexuality, this I am certain. As far as I can remember I have always had a litte crush on some boy, and occasionally some girl, perhaps a female teacher. But they quickly faded away as waking fron a dream.
I loved crawling into bed with Jake early in the morning as the sunlight was just creeping into his room and cuddle up close to him. I was fascinated by the mysterious bulge under his pajama pants but my tiny brain could not discern what on earth could cause such a thing. My sole experience with the male anatomy was playing "doctor" in the woods with a neighbor boy who was younger and even less knowledgable than I at the time. I look at the curious little appendage until it occurred to me that perhaps it grew larger as the boy grew, but it biological functions were way aways off yet.
My affections for my b*****r were pure and untainted. i****t was a word that had yet to be introduced into my vocabulary , although a girlfriend at the time secretly confessed having similar affections for her own b*****r. I was not alone.
It was not long before I would discover the joys of masturbation while soaking in a warm bath tub and allowing my hand to move downward, rubbing tentaivelt at first until the warm tingling sensations rippled throughout my body. I thought of Jake and his mysterious bulge. I was overwhelmed with the idea of touching it and seeing what lay beneath. When he put his hand suddenly over it I got the sense that it was something that he was ashamed of. I can only see these actions for what they were as a woman in her early thirties and place them in context.
I think my mother loved him as well. When my parents divorced Jake became the man of the house and they were very close. I was a baby when this happened a remember very little of father who has become a mere phantom in my life. Sometimes I caught her sneaking glimpses at Jake and I felt a bit jealous. I wanted him all to myself. I seethed inwardly whenever I witnessed them cuddled together on the sofa watching television or she she giving his ass a playful pinch whenever he walked by.
I began hanging around older girls and accumulating knoledge from them. They had all had sex and eagerly exchanged stories about their boyfriends will I stood nearby absorbing the information, even if the wors were omewhat alien to me, but the more I listened the more it became familiar what body part they referred to when they said "cock", "cunt",or what "fucking" was. It was all a revalation to my young mind.
It altered how I looked at Jake, but also deepened my suspicions about my mother. Did she want to "fuck" Jake? Sex without any sort of physical or practical experience was all still very abstract and it's mechanics were still hazey to me. I was too shy to ask how a boy actually "fucks" a girl. It was like listening to people speak in another language that did not require the sort of exposition that I needed to unlock the mystery. They still abstract words telling of abstract actions. I was frustrasted, but continued to listen.
I was also at this time become all the more conscious of my own body and it's lack of developement. I stood gazing at it in the full length mirror affixed to the bathroom door with a mixture of resentment and fascination. Most of the teachers that I had a passing affection for all had beautiful breasts and I can recall trying to sneak a peek down their blouse whenever they bent forward and the blouse fell away. I liked the sight of the soft swells of white flesh before they were concealed under their bras. It all made my heart beat a rapid rhythm.
I got older, filled out pleasingly, and dated a casually. I knew that making out was one thing but surrendering one's viginity was a step not to be taken lightly. I retained my physical virginity even while I was giving a guy a blow job in the back seat of his father's car. I allowed a few to go down on me but never anything further than that. It all satisfied those surface needs, but my heart still longed for Jake. It was him I was saving my virginity to and who was the main character in the majority of of masturbation fantasies. I still prefered masturbating while submerged in a tub of water and thrashing about like a seal having a seizure and splashing the bathroom floor.
My mother never remarried. She was always a beautiful woman which deepened my resentment towards her. Jake and my mother would remain very close throughout their life. I think they flirted but it never went beyond that. In the sobering passing of time I think I saw that and forgave her her less than motherly gestures towards her son. I kept my own feelings for him safely hidden, not even confiding them to the diary I kept during those years. By this time I knew act of sex between a b*****r and s****r was "morally' wrong. It still did not dissuade my feelings for Jake.
When Jake was twenty he had accumulated enough money to move out and find an apartment of his own. It was time for him to move on, but both mom and I were devastated when he made this announcement. I ran into my room, buried my face into a pillow and wept as if he just died. I could not bare the thought of not seeing Jake every day and being a part of my life. I now felt the overwhelming urge to tell him of my feelings, even in the face of the taboo nature of these thoughts.
I couldn't kept this secret that I have hidden inside for so long. In it's most wild moments I had fantasies of us being married and having c***dren.
I was still a virgin waiting.