As a child I lived in a town in the North of England. It was a fairly conservative place, where boys were expected to grow up to be men, and girls to become women. Despite this my mother was a fairly liberal person, and by the time I?d reached the age of 17 the topic of sex had already been raised in our house. Sex between men and women of course, with the aim or perhaps the danger of making babies! This was in 1979. Although my skinny body was still hairless my interest in sex and my desire to masturbate were growing by the day, much like my height (and despite my lack of pubic hair the size of my cock!). I had no inkling early that spring of the direction my sexuality was soon to take. I dreamed of the girls at my school in their short navy skirts, sheer black tights and white ankle socks, their bras showing through their tight white blouses, their beautiful long hair held away from their faces with hairclips, or maybe put up in a ponytail. Perhaps my fascination with their clothes should have been a warning of what was to come! Spring moved on and Easter came, and with it the school holidays. My mother, my 16 year old sister and I took the train to Scarborough, a seaside town on the North Sea. We were staying for 2 weeks in a holiday chalet not too near the beach, but not so far away too. The first night was uneventful, we were all tired from preparations, packing and travelling, and went to sleep very easily. As I lay in my bunk bed I played with myself a little bit when I was sure my mother and sister had gone to sleep, but not enough to achieve orgasm though. After a good night?s sleep things picked up exponentially, my raging teenage hormones quickly took over, and soon I could think of nothing else except sex and masturbation all day. Then later that day came an event that may well have been the trigger for everything that came afterwards. In the late afternoon we had come back to the chalet, my mother was preparing the evening meal. I left the dining kitchen to fetch a book from our bedroom. As I exited the bedroom and walked back down the corridor to the dining kitchen I was jolted by the sight in front of me. Right at the end of the corridor sat my sister on the toilet, her skirt up round her waist, her knickers down round her knees. She had forgotten to close the door, and I felt shocked and intrigued at what I saw as I walked back down the corridor to the dining kitchen, listening to her pee, pretending that I was reading my book but all the
kaçak iddaa time secretly staring at her. (An aside ? yes woman?s ?downstairs? underwear was referred to as knickers in our house, although sometimes the word panties was used. Even then I felt that knickers was naughty in a flippant non-sexual kind of way, whereas panties was a naughty in a deeply sexual and somehow dirty way.) My head was reeling from what I had seen. Somehow the idea of my sister as a sexual creature had never entered my head, maybe because she was a year younger than me. In reality she was far more advanced in puberty than me, with pubic hair, breasts and periods to contend with. All evening I couldn?t stop thinking about it, and had to cope with the raging hardon that enveloped my hairless cock. I hid the resultant trouser bulge by sliding my body forward under the dining table a bit. What stuck in my mind most were the skimpy feminine little panties, down round her knees. I had never thought of panties as being sexy before, but now that had changed completely. I realised that panties were part of a woman?s sexual armoury, that the sight of a pair of panties hiding those naughty dirty bits that lie between every woman?s legs was highly erotic. That night I secretly masturbated 4 or 5 times, and fell asleep dreaming of panties. The rest of the holiday was a blur for me. I would pretend to be sleeping in the morning, now and then catching a glimpse from the corner of my eye of my sister walking around unaware in her panties. Masturbation was a constant companion, the bedclothes rose and fell rhythmically as soon as my mother and sister were sleeping. Despite the fact that the toilet door remained firmly shut from now on, I was in a permanent state of mental and often physical arousal. Girls in panties filled my mind, to the extent that I thought that nothing could ever match this sexual stimulus. How wrong I was though, I had no idea of the bombshell that was about to drop. The holiday was over, and we made our way back home on the train. Listful and bored I sat at a table with my mother and sister. My mother read a newspaper, my sister was reading a girl?s magazine about ballet. I tried now and again to sneak a look at the beautiful ballerinas in their pretty white and pink tutus. The motion of the train was making me luxuriously drowsy, and my mind continually drifted back to my sister in her panties, her pretty little sexy panties. And right then it happened, just after I?d looked
kaçak bahis over at those wonderful ballerinas, and then turned my head back to think of panties again. The thunderbolt from out of the blue, the lightning strike, the explosion of blinding light. The passing fancy that was to blow my relatively normal emerging sexuality completely out of the water, and change my life forever. The thought suddenly flashed across my mind without warning ? what would it be like to try on a pair of panties? The effect was instantaneous. My heart started to race. My legs started to shake uncontrollably. My hands and even my arms trembled. My breath caught, in fact I couldn?t even pant, let alone breathe normally. An incredible, mind-bending thrill, which started at the base of my penis and around my anus, welled up the length of my cock and then up my rectum and spine, passed through my belly, then rose up through my chest right up to my neck and my throat. I was paralysed, the thought of trying on a pair of panties had unmanned me. My mother noticed that something was up and asked in a concerned voice if I was OK. My sister looked up at me. I mastered myself enough to briefly smile and nod my head. I was so relieved when she started reading her paper again, I could never have talked, at most only a gasp would have come out. I tried to control myself, and slowly very slowly by trying to put the idea of trying on panties out of my head I could breathe again albeit in short stunted intakes of breath. I had somehow managed to get my breathing under control without anybody noticing, and avoid passing out. Shock took over, I couldn?t believe what I?d just been thinking. I put it down to some random thought that had just flitted across my mind, and tried to completely forget that it had ever happened. Maybe I could banish that thought completely? But I knew though that somewhere in a corner of my brain that dirty thought was lurking, that it would come out again to thrill me, to torment me. And come back it did. Though we were close to home, several times again on that train journey the image of me pulling on a pair of my sister?s panties came to me. It struck brutally at my psyche and my body, making me shake, tremble and silently gasp for breath, sending shock waves through my flesh and bones, giving me a savage erection which I desperately tried to keep out of sight under the table. Each time the fantasy laid me low I would gradually recover my senses, and bring it
illegal bahis under control, suppress it. Then followed something that was destined to always gnaw away at me, even 30 years on ? guilt and remorse. I would feel embarrassed, dirty, ashamed. I would tell myself that it was just something in my mind, something I would never actually do. In this frame of mind we arrived in our home town and alighted from the train. But before we?d even reached home in the taxi the thought was there again. With it came the reality of being back in our house. Our house where my mother was absent 5 days per week 9 hours per day because of her job. Our house where my sister would often be absent as she spent time with her friends. The house where eventually, at some point in the near future, I would be alone, all alone but with a pair of my sister?s panties waiting for me in her bedroom. We had arrived back on Friday evening. School started again on Monday. All weekend I thought about it, wondering ? no fearing ? that the opportunity would arise at some point during Saturday or Sunday. But it didn?t, we were always together, I was never alone in the house. As Sunday drew to a close the fear grew in me though, because I knew then that Monday would be the first real opportunity, when my will would be tested, and most probably fail. Should I not simply just plan for the seemingly inevitable? I deliberately went to bed early on Sunday night, to the surprise of my mother. I lay in bed awake though, masturbating of course. I was in denial, I tried to fantasise about something else, but always the idea of trying on the panties came back. And I was ? still in denial ? formulating a plan, a plan that I wasn?t sure I would even see through, a plan that would result in me trying on panties for the first time in my life at approximately 3.45pm on the following Monday afternoon. I masturbated myself to sleep, a confused and worried boy. (Another aside - my masturbation technique was ? and still is in the main ? to grasp the base of my cock tight with the fingers of my right hand, then curl the right thumb round the point where the top surface of my cock joins my body. I squeeze tight, so that my cock and balls stick out from between the index finger and thumb of my right hand. I then place the tips and/or the top parts of all the fingers on my left hand on the underside of my penis, near the top so that either my left index finger fingertip or the top part of that finger lies exactly on or across the point where the penis head begins on the underside. The base of my left thumb lies exactly on the raised point on the top of the penis where the head begins. The foreskin is not pulled back.
Hybrid Mode
