How It All Began

A YOUNG BOY DISCOVERS WOMEN

A young boy sitting in front of a Zenith black n white TV watching the Lady Wrestlers. Old school, long before chains of fitness clubs and tanning salons. The true female gladiators. He watches, entranced, as the Ring Goddesses demonstrate their power. Hypnotized by their forms, their faces, their long, disheveled tresses. And their legs. Always their big, bare, powerful, shapely, exotic, esoteric, incomprehensible legs. Especially the thighs. He watches with rapt concentration, studying every nuance of movement and attitude. He fantasizes, knowing somehow exactly how the flesh would feel. Against his face, around his head, his poor, inadequate, vulnerable, water-balloon of a head ready to be popped open between the press of such formidable weaponry...in the glorious, scented crush of thigh-flesh. Magnificent, violent creatures. Conduits of Lust. Vessels of Truth. Keyholders to the Chamber of Love. He spent his days in blissful confusion, knowing that somehow the world around him chose to worship other gods. His love, his whole-hearted submission to his goddesses soon began to take on a subterranean character. His life's very purpose, those pillars of flesh, those life-giving legs, asses, and---more and more lately---those comely faces, soft, full lips, haunting eyes...the sweet scent of hot breath from divine mouths and the deadly fragrance of perfumed bodies... All this and more that he imagined so perfectly was also perfectly absent from the rest of his world. In HIS world, these things were deemed to be useless anomalies, or worse, insanities. He knew that such a beautiful, magical reality was the Cosmos' gift to him. But he had no idea yet what was to be done with it.

A DREAM...
Sex is a dark entity
Sex is the way, the truth, and the life
Masters, Mistresses, Gods, Goddesses, God
Extending sway over ordinary mortals
Exalting them into pure consciousness
Smiles dripping with Sin
A gathering of blackened hosts
Each bearing the Evil unique to their purpose
Each wearing the rabid heat of their lust
On tattooed sleeves

The women appeared first
Steeped in their elegant primes
Bouyant with Power
Control Queens built for the execution
Of sacred duties in shadowy rooms
They wore familiar faces
Taken from pale offices and musky classrooms
They encouraged my most delicious desires
And mentored me during the deluge of waiting
Always, there was the waiting
For my time...and for the young girls to come.

There were many such dreams. The boy pondered their cryptic symbolism, trying to wrap his young brain around all the things the women said in all the dark corners of those lavish dream-rooms. During waking hours, his interests were many, but only the goddess could command the fulness of his soul on the slightest whim. In whatever guise she called, he was capable of dropping anything to devote himself to her service. By now she was coming in different forms; sexy teachers, older girls that went to school with him, big sisters of friends, and especially on TV. He discovered many a powerful sexual influence from the careful study of available television programming. Though most of the TV sex symbols were of more or less benign character, our youngster quickly converted them into powerful warrior goddesses with short tempers, impossible demands, and violent souls. Endlessly and mercilessly was he beaten, crushed, and humiliated by the beautiful, imperious thighs of his female captors. So all-consuming were his fantasies that he often feigned illness in order to remain in his room all day, dreaming of unconditional subjugation to his dark mistresses.

The day came when the boy would enter middle school; Jr. High, as it was called at the time, and it has to be said that by then he was in his own little world. Day and night, his head was filled with visons of women, girls, legs and asses. Oh, and faces and lips, as well. Though he was an only child, he often fantasized having a hot older sister and even went to the trouble of inventing her by way of fanciful story-telling to some of his closest friends. At any rate, 7th grade was to be the most influential year of his life. After a couple of days of shuffling class schedules he ended up in an experimental program called a 'fused' class, which simply meant that instead of having individual classes in history, geography, and social studies, they lumped them all together in one class with one teacher and you spent 3 periods there instead of the customary 1 period. It was here that SHE came into his life.

SHE was Mrs. Cooper, and the first time he saw her she seemed more or less like just another teacher---perhaps prettier than most but nothing that made him really take notice. But on his second or third day in the class she came in wearing a tight skirt, a little shorter than usual and he noticed for the first time how thick and powerful her lower body was. Then he noticed how fascinating the movements of that lower body were, and finally how shapely and alluring her big, sturdy calves were in those shiny black high-heels and how they made him feel inexplicable things---stirrings of unknown origin down somewhere where they REALLY counted! He discussed her legs with his best friend who happened to be in the class, and they both agreed that her legs were exceptional; large, shapely, sexy, and powerful. They were exceedingly glad to be AWARE of such feminine traits and their inherent goodness and perfection. They were growing, approaching puberty, and filling up to overflowing with more or less constant revelations of an awesome and limitless universe of sexual reality.

But our young hero, happy as he was to be feeling the real shit when it came to women, knew also that he was experiencing a great deal more; something serious. After a few reprimands by Mrs. Cooper for his bad behavior, he was at last made to sit in one of the very front desks in the classroom so as to be separated from his trouble-making cronies. Instead of the traditional aisles of desks, the classroom was divided down the center with short rows on each side facing toward each other. This meant that the boy's desk--closest to Mrs. Cooper---faced her desk from the side, giving him a perfect profile view of his glorious teacher-goddess. He interpreted this extraordinary stroke of good fortune as a kind of spiritual gift, murky as that concept still was to him, and vowed to do whatever was necessary to remain there for the rest of the long school year ahead.

The next couple of months were among the most memorable of his life. No more playing hookie now. No more faking that cough or those phony sniffles in order to stay home. No indeed. He understood now what things were really about and what his purpose was among those things. He sat in his desk in a perennial state of agitation, enraptured as Mrs. Cooper seemed to wear tighter and shorter dresses with each passing day. She would no sooner be seated in her heavy wooden desk chair than her skirt would ride half-way up her legs, giving the boy extended viewings of a sight he'd previously only imagined actually existed. Her legs were stunning. So big and shapely, and obviously strong. She crossed them this way and that, seemingly unaware of the mind-blowing leg show she was putting on for his benefit. He inspected the grip of her lovely tight nylons as they encased those fabulous thighs. Often, on the shorter skirt days, that hemline would ride up almost to her ass and not once on such days would she be wearing panty hose. Always, it was sheer nylons held up by the delicious, delicate straps of a black or white garter belt, and revealing what, for him, was a vision of Paradise; the sumptuous, plump white flesh of her upper thighs...a sight that drove him to the brink of insanity, and between which he longed intensely to explore.

Then one day, when Mrs. Cooper wore a tight, wool skirt--the kind that rode all the way up--the boy found himself in a state of unusually hypnotic rapture. He had gotten quite accomplished at shifting his eyes from her legs to his schoolwork whenever she glanced over at him, but this time he didn't make it. Though entranced at the vision of her, he still managed to turn away, but not before she made solid eye contact. He was sure she knew everything at that moment; his gaze, his delight, his burning desire. The incident passed as she rose from her seat and launched into a lecture on climates in various parts of the world and the various farm products common to each area. It wasn't until the students were all collecting up their belongings at the end of class that she walked toward her bookshelf and informed him that she needed to see him after class. This was sure to be trouble.

When all the kids had gone, she closed the door behind them and turned to the boy. At first she said nothing, but merely stared him down as she walked slowly, languidly, and sooo alluringly back toward him. She passed closely in front of him, then circled his desk tightly, all the while looking sternly upon him, but saying nothin. She circled a second time as if to force the sight, smell, and feeling of her ass and legs upon his delicate psyche. The smell, omigod, that deliciously unnatural, inhuman, perfumed fragrance, lilting off her body, dancing dreamily into his nostrils, filling his sould with an apprehension, an anxiety, an intense longing, with LOVE. God, how he loved her at that moment, still unsure as to what was about to transpire. She bounced up onto the edge of her desk, crossing her exposed legs, which not dangled deliciously, ,her feet a few inches off the floor and staring deeply into his eyes.
'What, may I ask, were you staring at in class today? she asked evenly. The boy was in totally uncharted territory here and tried to think of something good before answering.
'Uhhh, nothing,' he answered shakily. 'Whaddya mean?'
Mrs. Cooper cracked a sinister smile and shook her head slightly as she looked down at her legs. She rubbed the top of her thigh sensually from mid-thigh down to the knee, and then pulled the skirt back just slightly as her hand returned toward her lap. As she fingered her hemline she looked down approvingly at her legs from each side as if to remind herself how gorgeous they were.
'Hmm', she murmered. She stroked the area just above the knee again with an elegantly manicured, long-nailed index finger. 'and are you SURE about that? You didn't see AnYTHING that caused you to lose concentration on your schoolwork? Something else that commanded your attention?
'Uhhh...' He tried to think. Mrs. Cooper mischievously hiked her hemline a little higher, cracking a wicked smile and just the hint of a maddening, feminine giggle. He simply couldn't bring himself to admit anything, because he didn't know what she was doing. Maybe she was only baiting him in order to get him in real trouble with the principal or something. (Jump to Part II)