Awaken to Hide

I suppose I was a precocious little kid.  My mother said she potty trained me before I was one, and that I was jabbering after my first birthday.  I don't remember any of that, but what I do remember is like little short movies or videos.  I see the scenes as I did then, but not the before and after . . . just little clips that record things that made an impression on me at the time.

I remember well the first time I saw my mother's boyfriend naked.  His cock wasn't hard but it seemed heavy as it swung back and forth between his legs when he came out of the bathroom.  I was in the way, so he just stepped over me to go back to the bedroom, and I looked up to watch the pink bulbous end of that long swaggering thing seem to look at me as it bumped against the top of my head.  

I turned to look more as he passed, and when he caught my look, he grinned for a second as he put one hand on the doorknob.  I'll never know for sure why it was,  but I remember feeling a sudden eagerness for more when he bent over and  put his hand in my panties and touched between my legs.  I could hardly breath when his fingers put pressure on my pee pee, but he pulled his hand out and left me in the hall before I could think, much less respond.   I remember standing there, afraid or eager for what I did not know, but hoping if I stood there long enough, he would come back and do it again.

He didn't return.  I went to bed and touched myself to check if I could do it, but it was like touching my knee, and I guess I went to sleep.  The next stretch of time went by without my memory recording events, but, one day my mother kissed me and for some reason, maybe to tease me, her tongue went between my lips and touched my tongue.  It felt the same as when her previous boyfriend had touched me, and my reflex was to suck it.  She jumped and gave me a look I will never forget.  Her eyes were suddenly big and "upset", and it felt like I, or we, had done something wrong.  She looked like she was going to hit me, but didn't;  and I guess I looked scared, so she picked me up and held me for awhile.  I don't remember how long, but I remember thinking about the feeling when her tongue touched mine, and the guy from before.  I remember hoping she would do it again, but she didn't.

By the time I was three, my brain had developed to the point where each day became a memory I can still think about, but since most of those memories just repeated the day before, they are mostly a blur.  I do remember my younger brother following me around when I was about two, and he was one.  He had a little trouble learning to walk, so he'd hold onto my shirt or skirt until he fell down.  My mother taught me to "be a big sister" and help him, so I did;  since she was working during the day, I ended up being a kind of second mother to him.  I knew he had one of those things between his legs because I watched my mother when she changed him, but I'd never touched it.  I vividly remember the first time I got to change him when my mother was gone;  I was so scared and excited I could hardly undo the pins.  

His little cock was like my finger and he laughed when I touched it.  I laughed too;  then I played with it more.  The more I played with it, the more he liked it, and so did I, but one day when my mother saw me playing with him, she made a stern face and said I shouldn't do that.  I didn't know why, because I had seen her wiggle his little cock when she bathed him.   Anyway, I began to think that sometimes what you like has to be a secret.  From then on, I remember watching people to see what was ok to do in public and what I began to understand had to be done secretly.  

Somewhere between then and four and five, I remember acquiring an intense interest in a lot of things that were mostly physical:  brushing my hair, cleaning between my toes, and spreading soap all over my body.  I liked the feeling of it;  so smooth and slippery.  I loved it when my mother put lotion on me;  it was like being touched by warm flowing water.  By then, my little brother and I played a lot of secret games I taught him, and I knew there was a connection between his thing and mine.  I suppose it's the DNA.  I learned later that my mother learned about sex from her mother and men, but my brother and I learned mostly from each other.  I taught him to kiss me with his tongue and touch my pee-pee with his fingers, and he taught me how to play with his cock.  He especially liked it when I put lotion on the end and did up and down with it.  I have no idea what would have happened if my mother hadn't got married again, but she did when I was about five.  Her new husband moved in with his 4 kids, all of them but the little girl older than me, and I began to learn that all I knew about sex was almost nothing.