Growing up, I shared a bedroom with my sister while my brother – the only boy and the eldest kid – had his own room. Especially during his tween-teen years, the entire family was happy for the fact that he had a private dungeon to hide in and contain his death metal, body odor, and attitude. Except for me. I thought my brother was the coolest ever and wanted to be a girl version of him. I’m sure the fact I had a huge crush on his best friend added fuel to the fire of my fraternal infatuation.
My brother was protective of me, which was good when I was in trouble with bigger kids, but not so great when I hung out with boys at school dances. There, he and his friends would follow me around, crossed arms rested on puffed out chests, making sure I wouldn’t get too cozy with any boys. I was around 10 years old, and though I had already kissed my cousin a few times, I was positive no one knew about it – I would’ve kicked his ass if he ever told a soul. While I kind of wished my brother would leave me and my friends alone, I was happy that he cared enough to pay attention to me.
In his teenage years, my brother hid a stash of porn magazines in his closet. I’d snoop around his bedroom, looking for what he was reading, listening to, drawing… I wanted to know what I had to like in order to be cool too. I guess it didn’t suffice that I was already a fan of Guns N’ Roses and Metallica, and had a yellow belt in TaeKwonDo from the same school where he trained.
The porn ‘zines were hidden in the bottom of a box filled with boy crap, all buried under clothes. Yes, I dug deep. Obviously I was good at it because he still doesn’t know. The black and white photos told stories of lingerie-clad babes somehow lost in the woods, and found by one or a few hunter-types. There also were school girls coming of age together while the parents weren’t home, housewives who offered more than lemonade to their hard-working pool boys… all sorts of original, compelling and realistic scenarios. Brazilian television programming had pretty racy content but I’d never before seen explicit sexual imagery. I liked it.
My mother rarely ever censored films at home. I remember picking out Christiane F. at Zebra, our local video rental store (aptly decorated in zebra stripes), as my brother protested our mom’s leniency with this particular title. One glance at the back cover and I was sold: “sex,” “prostitution,” “heroin,” “death,” “David Bowie.” It turned out to be an excellent film with imagery that remained ingrained in my brain for years to come, warning me of the dangers of drug abuse. It also got me into David Bowie and enamored with European nightclubs. I watched Disclosure at age 11 with my mother sitting five feet away from me; I used to talk a lot during movies, but was speechless as Demi Moore sort of raped Michael Douglas… with the power of boobs, or something.
I wasn’t a shy kid and I indulged my curiosity. I’m still like that. So it’s undoubtedly with a bit of a proud grin that I present to you a selection of internet search terms used by individuals ’round the world who ended up on my blog. The content may not have been exactly what they were looking for, but the mere fact they landed here makes me happy.
dirahea sex video [sp]
huge titted moms
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http://www.porn in the douche.com
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twizzlers +side effects on male libido
toilet sex girls good [sp]
beeg friends hot mom deep throats her so [sp]
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genital tatoos [sp]
inspirational words for menstruation
picking out groupies
I embrace my audience and will feel thoroughly accomplished when someone searching for “japanese octopus sex” skims through my silly words and leaves a comment.