Closed doors - Open doors

I remember before they moved in that my mother took us into her bedroom and said she wanted to talk to us.  It sounded very important, and almost a secret, so my brother and I were very happy.  She told us an interesting story about her new "husband", which was a new word for us.  "Boyfriend" we knew;  that was whoever was staying in our apartment from time to time, and almost always inside my mothers bedroom.  "Husband" seemed to have some extra status because my mother smiled when she said the word, at least in the beginning.  Then she told us the story.

Her Husband had gotten sick when he was younger and a neighbor girl took care of him, so he married her when he got well.  They had four kids, but when he got sick again, she went away with another man and took the kids with her.  Years later, she came back to ask him to take the kids because she wanted to marry another guy.  He agreed, but found out the kids had been raised by neighbors, boy friends and girl friends, and by themselves, so they had a lot of what my mother called "bad habits" and we would have to teach them a better life.  The first day was really strange;  all they did was sit at the table or on the floor and eat.  The youngest girl ate a whole apple, even the seeds, and only left the stem.

The oldest two were teenage girls, then a boy about 10, and a girl about 4, just a little older than my brother.  They got to have everything first.  My mother said it was to "make up for what they had missed", but eventually I think all they missed was food.  My mother said they lived in one room and took baths in a round metal tub in the middle of the floor.  When she told the part about the boyfriends helping with their baths, I remember the feeling when my mother's boyfriend had touched me, and wondered if these girls had enjoyed that part.  I didn't have to wonder long.  

They knew more about "secret games" than I did.  They played with each other, and they played with us, but kept secrets.  Each of them had their own hungers and kept many of their own secrets.  I learned a lot from that. I used to watch the boy peek when my mother took a bath.  We had curtains over the window to the bathroom, but there was a little thin spot in the curtain, and if you got close enough to the window at night, you could see almost everything . . . just a little fuzzy.  

I remember looking at my mother's boyfriends that way, and never got tired watching that thing between their legs.  I knew that touching it made it grow and get hard, but sometimes my brother's cock would get hard for no reason.  I kissed it one time when he was about three, and he liked it;  but when I sucked it all the way in he got scared I would bite it, so he wouldn't let me do it anymore.  Anyway, my step-father's son liked to watch my mother taking a bath through the window too, and when he knew that I knew, he begged me to keep the secret.  I did, and he helped me stay out of trouble a lot.

For the next couple of years we got along pretty well.  The boy didn't have much interest in me, as a girl [at least at first], and the girls were more interested in older guys in the neighborhood and at school, but we did "fool around" from time to time.  It was fun, but part of the excitement was that it had to be a secret.  The boy taught me about how the cock goes inside the girl's pee-pee somehow, but when he tried it on me it hurt, so he quit.  I wanted to know how he knew, and he said his mother did it all the time with her boyfriends and liked it so much she made fighting noises just like the guys when they got inside her.  I didn't believe it, but one day he showed me how to watch my mother and step-dad doing it.  It seemed strange, and so simple, but really exciting to watch;  especially at the end when one or both of them acted a little crazy.

I remember one time when I was about two or three, a boyfriend of hers was playing with me on the bed when I got out of the shower. He was blowing on my stomach and kissing my neck . . . then when he kissed my face and mouth, I stuck my tiny tongue in his mouth. It only lasted a second, but his face got red and sweaty, and when my mother came in he could hardly talk.  I really liked the feeling. After that he was always so gentle with me, and brought me candy.  You can't imagine how nice it is to see the hunger in someone's eyes and be the focus of their attention;  all that from a little "innocent" kiss.  All he ever did after that was touch me here and there [sometimes under my clothes and often between my legs] but always too quick;  I wanted more.  

He liked to kiss me and wiggle his tongue in my mouth, but when he sucked my tongue too hard,  it hurt.  Once he sucked my tiny nipples so hard they stuck out like a little marble on top of a volcano.  I looked in the mirror and was so proud of that, but the physical feelings weren't as good as the first time.  I knew it was a secret, but he was always so scared someone else would see us that it made me nervous too.   I liked what he did, but most of the time all I could do is think about it.  When my mother broke up with him, I never saw him again, and her new boyfriends were more interested in her than me.  I didn't learn until later what I could do to change that.

Anyway, my mother saw me watching her and my step-dad doing it through the crack in the door when I was about seven.  She talked to me later and seemed embarrassed, but said all women do it "when the time is right".   I wanted to ask her why it didn't hurt when a guy's big cock went into her, but I was afraid she would find out about my secrets, and even then I had sooooo many.

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