I don't have a specific or single memorable instance, as far as I can remember that led me into this world I find myself venturing further and further into. I don't have any witty repartee or comments about my desires that drew me towards painful pleasures and towards my submissive inclinations (if inwardly rebellious). Rather than ramble on for hours, which I am want to do unless I am careful to hold my tongue, I will recount one of my earliest erotic memories.
Back when I was but a little thing (think ages 8 to 10), I would spend several weeks at my grandma's house in the summer holidays. I think it was a ploy to give my family time to be able to work without me distracting them but I loved it. For once I would be left alone to fall deep into my fantasy worlds, where I often inhabited multiple characters; I could read for hours; I would be left in my attic room. It was my sanctuary. It had its own door up to the winding attic in the roof of their Tudor house, in the cupboards were my Mum's old children's books, my Grandma's wedding dress and other clothes she no longer wore, and the lead-paned windows looked out across the picturesque village. It was a place of dreams (if you were a child who spent most of her time delving into novels of abandoned children that is - think Frances Hodgeson Burnett). But it was the granddaughter of one of my grandma's neighbours who'd caught my attention: Henrietta (with an odd emphasis so it sounded more like Honrietta. I think it was because she was posh or something.)
Henrietta and I became firm friends. We looked rather different. Opposites in fact. Her with her long wild dark brown curly hair, slim frame and pale freckles, whilst I had straight hair was dumpy and already had budding breasts (I think due to baby fat but I can't be sure). She was several years older than I, already in her teens. She fascinated me but I found her games somewhat confusing, if exciting. We would pretend we were married, a couple, a straight couple. She was my husband and I, her wife. She would stroke me, kiss me and hold my hand. Though the part that excited me the most was when she said that we were having a child together (you must remember that I was quite the chubby child), so my breasts were heavy with milk. She decided that she ought to suckle on them for nourishment (there was no milk there). So as often as she could we would sneak up to my attic room, lie down on the floor and the ritual would commence. I'd be lying there without my top; she'd lie on top of me, then kiss, nibble and suck my breasts (and we'd have some mouth on mouth kisses too). This occurred for several summers. It seemed the most natural thing that whenever she'd wish for my attention, I'd be there. Sadly I can't remember why it ended but the last I heard of her she is now a very successful young woman, who is happy with her man.
Those summers with Henrietta and our time together marked a trend in several future friendships. There would be an erotic component. I would be faithfully devoted to her and do her bidding. There was an intense attachment that was utterly single-minded. But I will write more about one of those on another day, as my first post should be dedicated to the memory of what happened with Henrietta.
Yes, I think I've found the purpose of this blog. It will be a space for me to record and reflect upon current happenings, memories, ideas and fictional musings. Until next time. x
