Monday, September 15, 2008

Strawberry Milk

She was feisty and punchy with a dark sense of humor. During our play fights, she often would threaten to punch me so hard in my kidney that i would, as she said.... pee blood. Jokingly, she would point out boys we passed on the street or in stores or waiting on corners for busses. If she thought they were cute she'd ask me if it was okay for her to maybe.. ... to you know...just a little. She was bad and she said It was me who made her that way.

I've been dirty since 1st grade. I fondly remember my first erection. it was little becky getting spanked by Sister Mary in front of the entire class. her plaid skirt hiked up, bent over an orange plastic chair. was there gum underneath the chair? boogers? how dirty. I also noticed beckys hair, pigtails tied with green bows. flying every which way smack after smack. the fact she was in trouble for talking to me, made it all the more exciting. The crocodile tears and whimpering. all for me. Becky -her strawberry-milk pink panties. She told me later it didn't even hurt.

I turned from a dirty little boy into a dirty young man and now i am fully preparing myself for e dirty old man status.
I am telling her this story and she punches me in the side. See if you don't pee blood now. I fake-punch her kidney and instead tickle her side. She laughs and squeals like a little girl. I tell her i won't stop until she pees her pants just a little.

Once, she bought me an 80's E.T. collectible glass from a thrift store. She got it cause it had one of E.T.s cute little catch phrases on it:
Something I used to say her. something i still say. It was like instead of saying goodbye. be good. A joke but not. Something she hated and loved. something she was and wasn't always. something we are and never could be.

Does anyone drink strawberry milk? and like it.

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