I never had sisters, and there was a whole world of girlie things I never got to experience until met you. I remember visiting your house with my family, sometimes when you weren't home. Your parents would direct me to a big bin in the basement with all of you and your brother's toys. I was 12, and still I remember pushing past your brother's old transformers to get to your pretty barbies. And undisturbed on the floor, I'd play for hours ... until I'd hear voices coming down the stairs. I even remember the afternoon when I, locked the door and undressed Barbie, imagined touching a woman that smooth and sexy, imagining wearing clothes like hers. And there on the floor of your old playroom I exploded a hot, wet, passionate orgasm all over your doll.
I took it home that afternoon. I didn't want anyone to see or know what I did. And I kept that doll. I kept it with the bras you left at my house. Kept it with shoplifted playboys and JC Penney swimsuit catalogs. Kept in an old gift box that had gifts all its own. The gifts of dozens and dozens of orgasms. Some of my first and some of my best.
It was the same box I would dig out when you babysat me at our house. When I knew you would be too distracted with TV or with your boyfriend to pay any attention to what I was doing. Or else you knew to give me my space - something my parents never learned. Sometimes thouse even my secret box wasn't enough to distract me from wondering what you were doing when he was there. And I would sneak ...
The things I learned, Stacy, I'll never forget. The sight of your breast as he slid your shirt off, making out with you. And the night I can never forget, watching him, sitting naked on my parent's couch while you sucked his cock ...
As I passed by a row of barbie dolls, I thought of all these things. In honor of all of those memories from my first year of exploration, I bought a blonde Bratz doll. Brought it home ... and though of you some more.
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1 comments:
YESSS!!!
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