Logging Off

I lived at the end of the street, and there were trees there, but it wasn’t like the woods. #Toys

I guess you could call it a Copse, but really, they just didn’t cut down the trees between our neighborhood, and the road. There was a little trail you could cut through, on foot, or if you had a bike, so you didn’t have to go all the way around to the store.

I didn’t really have money for the store, some times my friends would steal candy bars, and stuff, but I was too scared. I know they shouldn’t be stealing, but I didn’t want them getting in trouble, so I never told on them.

Just pretty normal thrills for kids I guess, but then this girl started going back there, and she was pretty weird. I heard her grunting through the fence, and when I climbed up on the slide, I saw her with a knife. Cutting the bark off this branch, sticking up from a log, but I just slid down, and went back to my dirt track.

I never saw a girl whittle before, but I had cars, trucks, and a little track in the dirt to race them around. So, I forgot about her, and went back to playing in the dirt. She came back, off, and on. I could see her walking out front, and I went out back to see if she cut through to the road.

Sometimes, she went back to the log, I think I remember hearing the tree come down, but it was a thunderstorm. So it could have just been rolling thunder, but it broke a bunch of branches off with it. After a while it took shape, and it looked familiar, but I didn’t recognize it until one morning I woke up in bed.

I had to pee, but even after I got to the bathroom, my erection wouldn’t go away, and I tried bending it down, to point it at the toilet. I still couldn’t push any pee out, so I went to find dad, and by the time I did, the swelling went down, so I could pee. I asked dad about it, and all he told me was what I already knew.

You can’t pee with it like that, so you have to wait for it to go away, but don’t play with it. That’s bad, and I forget what he said exactly, but I even got the impression that it would be Gay. You know, playing with a penis? Only the gay fags play with penises, good boys just pee, and put it away until the next time.

“If you shake it more than twice, you’re playing with it.” I still didn’t make the connection, until that girl came back, with this weird knife, in a duffle bag. It was really long, so it was hard to pull out through the zipper, which wasn’t even as long, but it had 2 handles. One on each end, like a pizza cutter.

Then, she got up on the log, and pulled it to shave off the top, flat. Away from the stump, she carved to look like a penis for some reason, but there was this big “Oh,” moment, when I realized why it looked so familiar.

This girl, for whatever reason, liked to play with knives, and that was kinda scary. I never said anything to her, because I was afraid that she’d come at me with her knives, but she just used them to cut wood, right behind my fence.

She was young, too. Definitely not a teenager yet, and I saw her at school, but boys didn’t talk to girls at school. We didn’t even talk About girls at school, they were girls, and we were boys. So, we pretty much just had 2 different worlds, that happened to go to the same school. Same neighborhood, and the same buses, but mom, or dad always dropped me off, or picked me up.

I never caught her playing with it, just carving, but she did feel it, to check for splinters. I started to, in bed, when I woke up with morning wood. I guess from watching her, but that’s when I started getting bad dreams. Castration anxiety, mostly her sitting on me, and holing my arms with her legs, so I couldn’t stop her. Cutting open my pants, and.

Then I woke up. Before what comes next, but you can probably guess where it was going. Sometimes with a stiffy, and I squeezed it hard. I guess I was trying to squeeze the blood out of it, or the piss to make it go away, but then I started playing with it, and imagining her hands checking it for splinters?

I don’t know, but it was only a matter of time before I looked out my window, and she was back there. Of course, most of the times I looked out the window she wasn’t, but I lived there. I had a view over the back yard, and the fence at the trees from my window, but I couldn’t really see the log itself.

It was dark, and in the shadow of the house, from the street lamps. The trees covered it up even from the moon when it was full, but she brought a flash light. Of course, so she could see where she was going, climbing over the branches she couldn’t really pull out of the way, because they were pinned under the trunk.

So, I snuck downstairs, it was still early, so mom, and dad had the TV on in their room. I had just gotten into bed, and looked out the window, before I fell asleep. Wehn I saw her flashling, I snuck out, but I made the mistake of turning on the back porch light, so I could see. She ran off, before I even made it to the fence, but I climbed up, to look over, and the porch light shone down, high enough to see it between the trees.

The dick, and the flat part on the top of the log, she’d gone to work on with a chisel, and a mallet. A rubber one, with a big black head like a carton mallet, with (Acme) on the side, but she didn’t bring any tools with her, at night. She even started working on a chest, but it took time, to sculpt the pectorals. He didn’t have any nipples, but if you ever heard the expression, rock hard abs, and sculpted muscles.

He was cut, literally, out of wood. This time, the dick itself looked weird. Pale, kinda yellow, and even in my bare feet, I kept climbing over, and picked my way through the pine needles. The sticks, and leaves of course, but the pine needles poked between my toes, so that’s the part I really felt in the dark.

It was rubbery, and wet. She put some kind of rubber sock over it, but it didn’t stretch down completely. Like a balloon animal, there was a little bit sticking up on the end, but I touched it, and that felt kinda gay.

I knew that I shouldn’t play with a dick, and it wouldn’t even bend at all. Like I played with mine, under the covers I could switch it up, and down. So the sheet stretched over it, and the friction on the tip was about the most erotic pleasure I could get, from anything.

Then, the light went out, and I looked back to see who turned it off, but it was dark. I’ll just assume that mom elbowed dad, when they turned off the light, and told him the back porch light was on. So, he had to go down to turn it off, but even their bedroom light was dark, the TV was off, and it was quiet until a car drove past, on the road.

I could barely even see the headlight, flashing between the trees, but here I was, holding onto a dick. Never mind the fact that it wasn’t a real live man’s dick, it was man sized, and carved by a girl, but it was rubbery. Slippery, and “Snh?”

It smelled good. Weird, unlike anything I ever smelled before, but I liked it. I got a boner, for the first time I remember. Wide awake instead of waking up with it, and either trying to remember the dream, or getting up because I had to pee. So, I got on, and scooted up against it so I could get my dick out, and rub up against it.

I didn’t measure up, of course. Not even close, but what I could do was hold it in both hands, and hump up against it. I guess I imagined that it was mine, I had a dick that big, but I couldn’t see it in the dark. I could feel it, but I forgot all about the cut abs, and rock hard chest, without any nipples. I guess those were a bit too hard to carve, or she just forgot that men have nipples, too.

I didn’t get off. Well, I yawned, and climbed off, to pick my way back over to the fence. I couldn’t climb over, because the boards were on the inside. So I had to follow it all the way over to my front yard, but not quite to the trail head. I was really sleepy, but then I got to the front door.

It was locked, so I had to go around through the gate, and up to the porch to the back door. Mom, or dad locked that too, when they came down to turn off the porch light. “Huh!” It took me a while, but I finally figured out how to get the spatula from the barbeque grill tools, and stick that in the door jam. To wiggle it until the latch pushed all the way back out of the strike plate.

Luckily, we had one of those locking doorknobs in the back. So you could lock it, and close it on your way out. We had a deadbolt in front, so I’d never be able to pick that with a burger flipper. I went to bed, and dreamed about growing up. Having not only a dick that big, but also carved abs, and rock hard pecs. Strong arms, and a good grip to stroke it in both hands until I woke up.

Played with it until it went soft again, then fell back asleep. Rinse, repeat, pretty much every night. I dreamed about what kind of man I wanted to be when I grew up, and watched my window for her to come back. She didn’t come out every night, just like she didn’t bring tools to work on Woody every day, but she brought a flashlight, to see where she was going.

So, once I knew what to watch out for, I knew when she came back. Early in the evening after dark, and I didn’t turn on the porch light to scare her off. I didn’t go out the back, so I’d have to climb over the fence, either. I unlocked the deadbolt, and put on cowboy boots.

Because they don’t lace up, you can just slip them on, and play Cowboy. I went through a Cowboy phase, and my boots were starting to get a little tight, but I could still get my feet in, if I curled my toes up. I knew I’d get blisters on my heels if I walked around too long without socks on, but I didn’t take the trail.

I got up, from off the front steps, and went around the corner of the fence. Where I raked the leaves and stuff away from the fence, so I could sneak back there, in the dark, without making any noise. I could do it barefoot, because it was just dirt underneath, but my boots were right by the door, so I grabbed them, and put them on anyway. Tucked the pantlegs of my PJs in, because they wouldn’t stretch over the tops, but I didn’t put a shirt on.

It was starting to cool off, especially after dark, so my arms popped out in goose bumps, but it was also a big thrill. Sneaking out after dark, but it wasn’t too dark. Mom, and dad were still up, so they had their light on, and the TV running talk shows, so I could see a little of that light shining out between the fence boards.

“Uh, Woody.” I heard her, “Oh, Woody, you’re so hard.” She called him Woody, because what else would you call it? “Huh, yes, uh!” Her voice sounded funny, a little quiet, like she didn’t want anyone to hear her, but at the same time, her breath sounded so loud. Since I could hear her breathing. “Huh, huh!”

Peeking around the tree, I could see her too. Bent over, with her hands on the carved abs, so she carved them for something to feel, while she sat on it, and she had pants on. Shoes too, she just pulled them down To stretch over the trunk behind her, but I got a real good look at her butt. “HhuhHhuh! HhuhHhuh!” Humping up, and down, her breathing got really ragged, and her ride more frantic. Faster, she had her head down, and her hair swung over her face, from her fucking.

I heard the word. Fuck, or fucking. I didn’t know how people went about it, and they also used it, for just about everything. Like fuck off, get the fuck out of here, and so on, and so forth. Also, buttfucking fagots, suck my dick cocksucker, but I couldn’t get my teeth over the head. It was too big.

I knew that was gay, even trying to suck a dick, but I liked the way it smelled, and I got a taste of her juices by licking it, but then I thought that she had it up her butt. “Huh!” I shook my head, imagining if it had some poop on it, from sticking it up her butt, and I hadn’t even touched myself back there. Even though I knew it was gay, and I was confused.

Gay stuff, like playing with myself, or touching a wooden dick was cheap childish thrills, for a giggle. Stealing a candy bar from the store, because your friends put you up to it, and they said it makes them taste even sweeter if you swipe them yourself, but I couldn’t taste the difference. I didn’t get caught, but I tried it, got away with it, I couldn’t taste the difference, and I already had a better rush.

It was much more exciting, to sneak out here, and play gay with the wooden man. Trying to imagine how that girl played with it, but I would never have guessed, until I found out a little more about sex. Of course, she spent so much time, a couple years at this point smuggling woodworking tools out here to have sex with it.

“UH huh! HUH!” She stopped, but she started shivering. “Oh, Woody. Oh, you fuck so good.” She got up, and leaned over, so her butt was in the air, and she could put her head down, on the muscles. “Huh, huh.” Feeling them with her fingers, and panting for breath. “Huh, I love you.” She turned to kiss the wood, then put her head back down, to catch her breath.

I was stiff as a board, and I had on the summer PJ bottoms. Summer was over, but the leaves hadn’t even started changing yet, and the cotton was as light as a sheet. They didn’t have a fly, they had an elastic waistband you could pull down to go to the bathroom, or stick your boner up, and rub it in the sheets.

Or, just stick my hand down there, and hook my thumb behind it. Hold it out, and joystick it around the tight front of the cotton. “Huh, huh!” It was intense, sensitive, and exciting what with what I just witnessed, but I closed my eyes. Enjoying the cool night air, and breathed loud enough for her to hear me.

I didn’t think of that. That I breathed, just as loud as her, playing with myself, and if I could hear her standing over by the fence, then she could hear me.

Click! I put my hand up, when I opened my eyes, and saw the flashlight shining on me. Nothing else, but then she called me, “You creepy little pervert!”

“Uh,” I pulled my hand out of my pants, and tried to run, but she caught me.

Just like I was always afraid of, but at least she didn’t bring a knife with her, to circumcise me.

;

Janice (Gb MF Voyeur)

Okay, let me explain. First of all, my dad had tools. Woodworking tools, wrenches, saws, power drills, nail guns, hammers, and nails, because he he was too cheap to pay someone to do the work he could. He was a DiY dad, and it’s cheaper in the long run just to buy the tools, materials so the next time you have to fix something, all you have to buy is the boards, or whatever.

I had brothers, who liked to watch him repair the siding, or the gutters, and “Help.” So, I didn’t have to, wrenches and stuff were stupid boy’s toys, while I had horses, dolls, and dishes to play with. Girls played with horses, and boys played with cars. At most, I watched the boys get into daddy’s toolbox to turn a wrench on a car wheel. Hotwheels, with the tiniest combination wrench, to turn the whole wheel like a bolt, and pretend to fix a flat tire.

What I didn’t have was sisters, so I had friends. With horses, dollies, dishes, and Lincoln Logs. This one girl, Nicky had brothers, who let us borrow their Lincoln logs to make a little cabin, and a stable for the horses. Sometimes, we made the boys make the houses to play house, because that was man’s work. Then, they’d leave us alone in the boxes, so we could get the dolls out, and have a tea party with them.

That was my normal childhood, which all changed when the newlyweds moved in next door. The husband didn’t have a lot of tools in his garage, he had weights, and a window in the side door I could see from my yard. Regular garage door up front, pretty much a regular kitchen door around the side, with a window, and 2 boards over the glass like a big [+].

I started watching him work out, because he really was in great shape, and even as young as I was (I have no idea) he looked good enough to eat. Yummy, and his wife obviously loved his body too, because sometimes she came out to the garage to watch him. Pumping iron, and sitting on him laid down on the bench to do bench presses.

Taking off her top, and then her bra, until he finally put the bar back on the cradle, and grabbed her tits. Got a boner, and a rubber out to put it on. Got naked, and screwed right there on the weight bench. Sometimes, he put the back up, so she could hold his face up to his chest, but from the window, with the bench back in the corner, there was only so much I could see from behind her.

The bra came off quick, and she sat on it, but then one day she sat on his face. Turned around naked, so she could hold onto the bar. Which was kind of dangerous, because if she pushed it off, it could have crushed his chest, but I could see his tongue flicking out, and where it went. So, I found the baby hole, and just guessed where his dick went, once he got hard, and they put a rubber on it.

So, I started fingering myself, it didn’t take long to find the box of rubbers in dad’s side nightstand. I started stealing them to stuff inside me with my fingers. If I had a cherry, some girls don’t, then either I broke it riding a bike (And pretending it was a pony) or I just don’t remember breaking it with my fingers.

You’d think I would, if it hurt, and my fingers came out all bloody, but I don’t. So, either I was way too young to remember, or I didn’t get one when I was born, or it broke when I was playing My Little Pony games with my friends.

Then, we went on a field trip, to the History Museum. All the way in the Capital, so we had to ride the bus, and it’s on the coast, so they had a piece of the ship that first discovered the harbor. My brothers were in Boy Scouts, and Webelos, respectively. So, they got pocket knives, and learned how to carve stuff. Like chains, and a ball in a cage, they even had a walking stick, with a chain, and a box on the end, carved around a ball so it wouldn’t fall out.

For hiking, until the chain broke, and the cage fell off. So that broke, and the little wooden ball fell out, but that gave me some idea of just how complicated you could carve something out of wood. With X-acto knives, and the bent chisel blade, with the U shaped edge for tapping through wood, and gouging it out with a trim hammer.

This tiny little hammer, for tapping tiny little nails, in crown molding so you didn’t damage it, and have to patch it with plaster. So when he painted over it, you could never tell that it was nailed up there to begin with. I mean dad, he put up crown molding all around the house, I don’t know why.

He wasn’t planning to sell it, ever. He was planning on handing it down to Jr when he was old enough to start his own family, but to hear him tell it, that’s like the hardest carpentry he could do. So, maybe he did it just as a challenging project, or for an excuse to get a Miter Saw, because that what it takes to get the compound bevels just right on crown molding.

I didn’t care, and I kinda tuned all this stuff out, because it was woodworking, and I was a girl. I didn’t have any interest in woodworking, beyond how you turn a pile of Lincoln logs into a stable, so the horses have somewhere to sleep. Laid down, with blankets tucked in behind their backs, because that’s how we decided horses slept.

However, he talked about his latest project, whatever that was, at the dinner table, and I guess I soaked some of that up. When I wasn’t listening, but you can’t turn your ears off, so I still learned a thing or 2 about crown molding, whether I liked to or not.

Until we took the bus to the capital, to visit the State History museum, and right out front, they had the bow of a ship. The first ship that had ever been in the harbor, cut off so it looked like it was coming out of the wall, and the floor. The figurehead was a woman, with her arms way back to hold onto the.

Sides of the ship, I don’t know what those parts are called in nautical terms, but she had fingers. Some of them weren’t broken off, but she was obviously holding onto the top of the port, and starboard, boards. On the sides of a ship. I tried looking up the terms, I just didn’t know where to find them, but you get the idea.

She wasn’t in chains, she was holding on. With her hair flowing back over her shoulders, as if by the spray from the waves. Even with the paint faded, and peeled off, the wood turned to this cracked brownish grey under it, you could tell that she was beautiful once. Also, I guess whoever carved her was a horny sailor, on a ship where the only woman was out front, where you couldn’t see her from the ship, because he gave her nipples.

The dress clung to her body, like it was wet, and you could see her nipples, in between the folds. He obviously put a lot of work into her breasts, and the bare minimum of modesty, so she wasn’t completely naked, but she wasn’t bound to the front in shackles. She wasn’t nailed up there like a crucifix, she was free, and smiling. Looking ahead, wherever they were going, and enduring the spray of sea water on her face. The wet dress clinging to her braless breast, and her nipples hard enough to stick out through the fabric.

So then, the teachers finished signing us in, paying a dollar “Donation” each and lined us up to go see the rest of the exhibits. That’s when I saw what you can really do with woodworking. I’d already seen enough sex next door to know what sexy was, and I even imagined the sailor putting down his tools, to fish his out of his pants, and jerk off looking at her tits.

Why else would he, or anyone put so much work into carving a woman’s tits? Well, I knew what I liked, wanted, and found sexy, wasn’t a woman’s tits. I had the hots for the man next door, working out in the garage, but he was married. Had a wife to take care of that, but sometimes he got a boner lifting weights, and had to stop to jerk off, before he went back to pumping iron.

So, I took an interest in woodworking, Jr already got those Merit badges, and his younger brother hadn’t even started Boy Scouts yet. So the Xacto set just sat in a drawer where nobody would miss it, if I borrowed it. We had books on woodworking at the house, the library had more on artistic carving, I could get my hands on whittling knives, pretty much whenever I wanted, and I had access to the best collection of tools out in the garage, because my dad.

At some point, he started collecting tools, just to have them. He had the money, and went out to the flea market. I went with him, “Is that a draw knife?”

“It’s Amish.”

“Well, I don’t have one of those, how much?”

He haggled over it, and on the way home, I asked him what a draw knife was for. It looked like a Machete (He had three of those. So he always had the Right machete for the job, even though I never saw him use any of them.) So, he took me home, and showed me how they used to strip a log. That’s why it’s got grips on both ends, and if you split boards out, by hand, you also had to square them off, by hand. Until they invented power tools, wood mills, and hardware stores where you could buy lumber.

I found a tree down, in some woods nearby. Not a lot of woods, really it was about a quarter block of trees they didn’t clear out when they built the neighborhood, but that’s what I had for woods. Where I could go, to practice whittling carving, and making sticks into dicks to play with, because I didn’t have one. The newlyweds apparently didn’t wear rubbers every time, or they stopped using them when they’re ready to have a baby.

I had a talk with my mom, about what was happening to her body. She was getting pregnant, she was going to have a baby, and her husband just stopped. Working out, he still had the muscles, and looked pretty good in a teeshirt, but he just left the weight bench in the corner of the garage, and I assume they stopped fucking until she had the baby. He did his job, and then he took a year off to work long hours, save up for a bigger car with back doors, and get ready to be a father.

“Huh!” I had a bad case of dick on the brain. Maybe that’s why you’re supposed to hide this stuff, behind closed doors, not in front of the kids, and I’ll tell you when you’re older, but my favorite thing ever was watching the newlyweds fuck on the weight bench in the garage. A close second was watching him pump iron until he got a boner, then take a break to pump meat, so he could go back to his workout.

I guess his wife fucked him on the weight bench enough, that he thought about that every time he worked out. I don’t know, I wasn’t complaining, but I was like this big. A little girl, if there was a pedophile in my neighborhood, I never saw him. I doubt he looked like that, young, muscular, and horny. I imagine most child molesters are old, fat, balding, and pick on little girls that are too innocent to know what’s going on, because it’s hard to talk to grown women with tits, and enough experience to tell when a guy just wants to talk to them for sex.

They talk to your tits, if you have any. Mom had guys over bye the mailbox. To talk to her tits about bills. “I’m married,” to a tool man. Like Tim the Tool Man Taylor, only without his own show, an assistant that looked like Pamela Anderson in overalls. Then, she got replaced by Heidi, and I certainly didn’t look like Debbie Dunning in overalls, but I knew what I wanted to look like, when I was older.

Other than that, I didn’t change much. I was still a girl, with dolls, dishes, learning to cook, clean, and sew. I just lost interest in Horses, once I had something better to ride. It was a lot of work, seriously, it took years, but Toy story came out, and Woody. Well, he had the same voice as Tim Taylor, except for the grunting. (It took me years to put that together, but subconsciously. The name Woody was just too obvious. Okay, he played Buzz Lightyear, but still. The association just had to be there.)

I had no idea anybody could see me back there. There was a fence, and trees, and stuff. The root ball, where the log pulled them up, and a big puddle that your dog would stop to drink out of, if you walked the dog, down the trail. It was just perfect.

I was out on a wood ramble, and as soon as I saw it, even with the bark, and the splintery end still on it, I could see that it was perfect. It was pine, and the branch broke off, sticking almost straight up. It even slanted a little, like it was when the tree was standing up, to reach for the sky, and fight for sunlight with the leaves in the canopy, but it broke off, when it fell down. I guessed, but it was easy to cut off the splintery end.

I guess the first thing, anybody learns to carve is fuzz sticks. Like wooden pine cones, or you can split the shavings so they look like Christmas trees, but they’re handy to start a fire with. I went camping with the boys just for something to do with my brothers. They let me borrow their pocket knives, and shave fuzz sticks, to start the camp fire with. Tent pegs, and little stuff like that. The next step is cutting off the shavings, but the splintery end of a broken pine branch is even easier.

That just left a sharpened stick, I had to scrape the point off, careful not to cut my thumb, pulling the blade with both hands. So, I got callouses on the insides of my fingers, like the cook’s callous you got from chopping vegetables. The back of the blade rubbing the end of your first finger, from holding it so it doesn’t roll. Only all of my fingers on my left hand had callouses from holding the backs of other blades, like saws, or machetes, using them like a draw-knife.

Then, I sculpted the head, peeled off the bark, and shaved the branch down to. About the size, I remembered. I’d only really seen 1 cock, in action. Through the window, and across the garage. All the way in the corner, so it was about, that big. Small enough that I could get my hands around it, and touch my fingers with my thumbs to get a good grip.

I didn’t even try to put veins in it, because that’s like bas relief. You have to take off all the wood, all around it, and just leave the veins sticking out, so I just left those off. Same thing with the nipples, I tried, but my blade slipped, and I cut a nipple off. He looked kinda funny with only one nipple, so I just polished off both corners, rather than planing the whole log down, and starting over. The head, though. Shaving down the shaft like that, it let me leave a lot of head, and tap the bent folded chisel blade with the palm of my hand, instead of a hammer.

With the big red X-acto handle, with 6 grooves around it for a good grip, like a screw driver.
Except you could unscrew the threads on the end, and change the blades out. The bent over triangle, sharp on 1 side, but both ends went in the handle, with the ring already around them, so I could screw it down, and tighten it. Stick the point in, and scrape more out, then the sand paper. Emery boards…

It was a labor of love, I was making myself a husband, from scratch, but other than that, I hadn’t changed much. I was just the same girl+ woodworking callouses, but I really enjoyed it. I got to understand my dad a little better, why he went to the flea market, and bought an antique Amish draw knife he didn’t need. When he had a power planer, that could do the job a lot faster, and easier. He only used it once, to show me how it worked, then stuck a couple more pegs in the board, and hung it up. As part of his collection, in the hand tools, right next to the hand drill.

I borrowed that, to peel the bark off around the dong. It wasn’t very comfortable between my legs, and it got my pants dirty, between my legs. I might have to explain that, coming home with flakes of bark, stuck to my crotch, with sticky pine sap, from humping a log, and carving a dork.

That came out a little too flat, and it was just like when I made a mistake, carving the prick. You carve around it, until it gets smaller, and smaller, but it Looked just right. That was the idea, at first. Of course, I couldn’t fit it in, it was too big, but it looked, perfect. This all started when I watched him working out. Saw him pull it out, and his wife popping it in her mouth. I couldn’t get my teeth around it either, but it was my own private exhibit. (If you’ll pardon the pun, it was a Private part.)

For me, to look at, my own work of art, but it was never finished. I didn’t want to finish it, if I had long enough, I probably would have dug an entire man out of there, with realistic hair, but no kung-fu grip.

I grew older though, a little bigger, and I got my Period. Had another talk with my mother, only instead of where babies come from, this was all the disgusting stuff you have inside, that comes out to where you have to wash it off the outside. Out of your underwear, and between your legs, when it leaks out.

Moving right along, I have no idea how I got away with it for so long. Honestly, I didn’t even keep track of when I started, but it had to have been years. A few years but even 3 years is a long time, when you’re 12. So, a third, to a quarter of my life, I pretended to be married to a man named Woody, and tried not to fall off a log.

Until, inevitably, I got caught.

…

Adrian (Gb Mole)

Timber! I was so terrified when she shone the light on me, I just ran. She caught me, called me “Creepy little pervert.” but as soon as she got her arms around me, one hand went right for my junk. “You get hard watching me?”

I shook my head, but my boner went right away, so she gripped it with my balls together, and held my shoulder with her other hand.

“Don’t lie, I saw you playing with yourself, weren’t you?”

I nodded but, even through her teeshirt, up against my back. I’d never seen her naked, only half naked, but she kept her shirt on, and the last time I saw her in the day, she just looked like a girl. Maybe about my age, maybe a little older, but scarier than any other girl, because she played with knives.

“Well, how do you get it hard again?” She let go, but just long enough to feel up to my waist, Tuck her fingers in under the elastic band, and feel back down again, on this time inside my pajama pants.

“Huh, I don’t know, I just wait until it happens, so I can play with myself.” Honestly, I didn’t have anybody to tell that. I was playing with myself, because I was ashamed, but I knew that if anybody could understand, it was that girl that carved a dick on a tree, just to play with it.

Also, she wasn’t, as flat, as you might expect if you saw her, walking around with a shirt on.

“Huh, well you don’t have any hair on your balls, so does that mean you’re still shooting blanks?”

I shook my head, in the dark. “I don’t know what that means,” maybe it was just the way she was holding me, but somehow she could feel me shake my head in the dark. Because she answered me, when I nodded my head too. I didn’t know what to say to a girl, any girl, least of all the one that terrorized me in my nightmares.

Sure that she wouldn’t like it, the way it looked. She didn’t like the foreskin, because the dick she carved for herself didn’t have one, and she spent so much time to get it just right, I knew that if she ever saw it, she’d want to cut it off. At least, that’s what I thought, I didn’t know what to think. It was childish, but having that perfect speciman right out back, I guess it made me self conscious.

I thought that I could never measure up to her expectations, that she wouldn’t like the extra skin, and would want to fix it, but I was wrong.

“You know,” she turned me around, and tried to look at my face, I guess. The bedroom light, and TV were off, so there wasn’t even that to shine through the cracks between boards in the fence. “When you cum?”

“Oh, I heard my uncle say that, ‘I’m coming!’ real loud once, but I don’t know what he ment. Going where?”

She laughed, and shook her head. “When you have an orgasm.”

“What’s that?”

“When you play with yourself, and it feels so good, something supposed to come out. It’s called sperm, and it goes in here.” She took my hand, and held it to her crotch. “To make me pregnant.”

“Oh,” I felt around, through her pants, but there was some things missing. Of course, I didn’t even know that there wasn’t Urinals in the girl’s room, because I’d never been in the girl’s room. “Where’s your stuff? You didn’t cut them off?”

“No!” She laughed, “I’m a girl.” She pulled my hand up, so I could feel her zipper. Still wide open, because when she heard my. Heavy breathing, she just pulled them up, and grabbed her flashlight. I ran, and she caught me before she could even zip them up. “Huh, I don’t have a dick and balls to play with.” She shrugged, “So, I made my own.”

“You couldn’t make balls.” I guess.

“There wasn’t any wood there, so no.”

“Are you going to molest me?” He did stick my hand in her pants, and her hand in my pants, but she had underwear on, and I didn’t. “Some more?”

“I’m not.” She shook her head, “Well, I didn’t mean to molest you.”

“It’s okay, as long as you don’t cut anything off.”

“Why would I want to cut your dick off?”

“I don’t know, because you have a knife?”

“Well, I don’t have a knife with me. I didn’t bring one, because I’d only cut my thumbs if I tried to whittle in the dark. So, you don’t have to worry about that, but you know, I’ve never felt a real one before.”

“Uh, if you don’t have one, then what do you have, in your underpants?”

“You want to take a look?” She shook her hips, to pull her pants down. I guess that’s how they stayed up, even unzipped, when she was running. She had broad enough hips to keep her pants up without a belt. She just dressed so baggy that you couldn’t see how her body was shaped, because that’s private.

She took her shirt off first, and then she turned the flashlight on. So I could see her body, and sure enough. She had a narrower waist. Not as narrow as a full grown, 36-24-36 centerfold, but she was definitely more than just a little girl. Up front, you couldn’t really even call them tits. Nipples, a little darker, and circles of flesh around them, but barely enough to make her feel a little softer through her shirt, holding my back squished up against her chest from behind.

“You want to see?” She pulled her panties out in front, and shone the light down in there.

“You’re hairy, and.” I closed my eyes. “Snh! Huh.” So, that’s what I smelled, smeared all over the rubber. “You smell so sexy.”

Boing! I pulled my pants down. “So, you’ve never seen a dick like this before?” I pulled the foreskin back, “Just one like this?” The nice thing about having a foreskin is you can pull it back, and it’s like an instant circumcision. i assume that she had to have some kind of model, to sculp one that realistic. It even had a pee hole, dug out with the tip of a knife. That’s why I got horrible bloody circumcision, and castration nightmares.

She laughed, and turned the light off. “You mean a foreskin?” She dropped it in the dirt. “Yeah, but I’ve never seen one hard, with a foreskin, or touched a real hardon before.” She moved her hand, and touched me. Pinched it with one hand, and touched the end with the other. Then, she pulled the skin back tight, and touched it with her bare fingers. “Huh!”

“You like it?”

“Yeah, it feels kinda weird, but yeah. I do. It’s more natural this way, anyway.”

“Can I,” I shook my head, and decided that I didn’t want to fool around with the flashlight any more. “Feel whatever you have?”

“Yeah,” she pulled her panties down, and took my hand, to put it between her legs again, but this time completely bare. Except for a little bit of hair, not a whole lot, but enough to see, and feel a triangle of it, and a few more curling between her legs.

I kinda liked feeling around in the dark, a little better than looking at it first. I guess because we all start out feeling around in the dark. With the lights out, under the covers. For instance when we feel our first erections. Not your actual first erection, babies get them in the womb, but the first time you wake up in the middle of the night. There’s something in there you were never aware of before, and you realize that your little pisser got stiff, for some reason.

I’ll just assume that you know what girls have between their legs. If not, this is the internet, you can look it up. Just knowing this site, you might be able to scroll up to an ad for some cam site, with naked ladies spreading their legs, to show it off.

It was something new, and fascinating to explore for me. Now as an adult, I’m a little grateful that she let me feel it in the dark, before she ever showed me in the light of day. We became lovers after that, despite the fact that I hadn’t even started puberty, let alone grown big enough to satisfy her when she already had something bigger to fuck. He was perfect, because she made him that way, just what she thought she wanted.

He didn’t have a foreskin, though. She couldn’t have made him uncircumcised if she wanted to, because you can’t carve wood into living flesh, and blood. So, at least I had that, for her to play with…

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