A Sneak Peek

Saturday, February 2, 2013


I was never one who was shy or afraid of sexuality or sex even at an early age. I was increasingly interested in it and have many a memory to attest to this. Even as a child, I knew that sex wasn’t some dirty little secret that was meant to be kept away from me or that it was “the naughty thing to do” but that it was a vessel of expression and frankly, it looked like a whole lot of fun. I of course didn’t believe this when I first encountered sex—it frankly scared me because I thought the two people were hurting each other from what I gathered from the sounds that were being made and the rapid, exertive movements they were doing—it was this very question that made me deeply wonder about sex itself, why was it something only adults did (and did often in my childhood home) and if it hurts why does it look like fun?
We all have had our first introductions with sex when, as a child, you may have “overheard” your parents enjoying the company of each other in their private quarters. And I'm sure I am not the only one to wonder “what's wrong with Mommy and Daddy?” as also I'm probably not the only one to get up out of bed and wander down the hall and ask them personally and walk in during their adult time, enacting the dreaded “coitus interruptus”. I'm sure though, in this case, I'm of the select few who then began, after the first couple of “accidents”,  to begin to do it purposely, and, I confess, to actually hide out and watch and then get purposely caught, consequently enacted “coitus interruptus” and getting a swift spanking and a rapid cart off back to my room. Sitting in the dark, with my tiny bottom sore, and a salty and devilish tear in my eye, I’d ponder what I witnessed and turn question after question in my mind about the event I saw and why I wasn’t allowed to have seen this. Yes, I became a tried and true voyeur as a child, at the wise young age of four, of my own free and conscious will. I can readily say I may have actually witnessed the makings of my younger sister at that age, a few of my younger cousins a few years later, and one of my godsons later on in my young adult life. I know, it may sound leery and creepy but actually it’s not. It might have been curiosity that killed the proverbial cat but it was an intriguing sexual curiosity that had blossomed my views of sex and coaxed my voyeurism to increasing heights. Maybe because I got a spanking each time I got caught watching my parents (or older cousins or aunts and uncles) fucking I kept seeking a voyeuristic moment or maybe because I felt the need to just watch and learn and observe…or maybe its something else not yet tapped into that compelled me to sneak a peek of people in the act…all I know of it now is that I was deeply compelled, transfixed, and sought it out, and I would do it as much as I could and would be mentally aroused by the entirety of it.

One of these early memories that I vividly recall witnessing was when I was about eight years old. 
My Aunt Linda and her husband Brian and my two cousins were moving from the East Coast to my hometown. They made an exhaustive cross-country road trip west and had to stay with us for a few weeks before moving into a house my mother owned in another part of town. It was all fun and games and a lot of getting acquainted with this family, whom I had last seen when I was a baby in my native country and I really had no recollection of ( I am the first born of the first generation of the culturally assimilated in my family and the first of only ten born of that generation in our native country. This is a distinct honor in my culture and in my family). My aunt and uncle had met and dated at the same time as my parents did and had my cousin just four months after I was born. I had never really met them or my cousins until that summer they moved into town and into my home. 
What I did know was that I found my aunt and uncle to be quite a beautiful couple. I was intrigued to see a woman, my mother’s near aged younger sibling, who had different and darker features and a different body and a different demeanor than my mother, yet the similarities were present. It wasn’t my mother reflected back to me but a different possibility of her, and a reflection of my family, and possibly of myself. Her husband was unlike any man I had seen before and he was definitely intriguing to me. He was tall, muscular, disgustingly assertive and boisterously masculine, and he was also mulatto with unique features and a deep milky complexion. My mother’s boyfriend at the time kind of looked like Brian but would’ve been the “small fry” to his champion  bodybuilder look.

One night I caught the sounds of Linda and Brian breathing heavy and speaking in hushed tones, as they were sleeping in my sister’s room next door to mine (we had an adjoining shared bathroom between our rooms and sounds carried easily through the echoing of that bathroom). My sister, my cousins, and I were all asleep in my room. Leave it to me, with ears like an owl, to spy this. It also helped that the bathroom doors to both rooms were open (on their side) and ajar (on mine). I opened my eyes and laid there for just a moment, listening to make sure they were doing what I thought they were. I crept silently into the bathroom, making sure to not make any noise to wake anyone in my room or to alert them to my presence. I actually crawled on the floor in to the bathroom and laid still on the tiled floor. They had some small light on so there was faint lighting, and I spied my aunt on top of my uncle (cowgirl style) writhing and gyrating. She was breathing  and saying his name and he was saying hers. My mother never did this with my father before or her current boyfriend so I knew I was getting my first real glimpse of unbridled enjoyment. All the few times I spied on my mother, I never got the sense that she was thoroughly enjoying it but rather going through the motions for the man’s pleasure. My aunt, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying it, not only for herself but she was making sure my uncle enjoyed it too. 
This was the first time, I believe, I saw sex as an act of pleasure and purpose, and in this moment I began to understand what the fun was all about. This was also the first time I had seen a woman on top (again, my mother was a missionary style girl) and the first time I saw an actual erect penetrating penis, and my uncle was (through current understanding) well-endowed. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing because it was so different than anything I had seen before, and I remember holding my breath for the entire ten minutes I could stand to watch. I remember silently crawling back into my room and into bed. I made no sound and had no intention to interrupt them. I remember laying back down and listening to them continue until the sounds faded to silence again. 

My head wasn’t filled with questions this time. It was filled at that very moment with the stirrings my own quest to find out for myself about sex, and to come to an understanding of how and why it was so much fun.

I never witnessed Brian and Linda having sex after that night (although I did hear them one afternoon about two years later going at it but didn’t have the guts to peek at them from outside through the window). Maybe it’s because I honestly didn’t want to tarnish or diminish that indelible image of them in my mind. I did continue to harbor my secret sexual attraction to uncle Brian (even though I didn’t really like him as a person because of his attitude and boorish nature) and cultivated it when I discovered that he gave the most thorough and delightfully intense spankings, which he quickly got an understanding of when he flat out refused to spank me ever again because he sensed (and told me point blank) that I “got off on being bad, getting caught, and liked it too much” (Oh yes, I did!!). I admit, I used to seek out trouble to get reprimanded by him and I guess because I’d never cry when he’d spank me he knew there was something else going on (Come to think of it, uncle Brian ignited this submissive spark in me too). I used to think (and sort of still do) that maybe uncle Brian knew I had spied on him and aunt Linda that night and because of my voyeurism I had this secret affection for him, and that I was teetering too close to a line uncrossable for a child of any persuasion or capacity.

All the other voyeuristic opportunities I had later on in my childhood (or early adolescence) didn’t compare to that fateful night, nor did most of them enhance or further develop my understanding from that first sneak peek of pure adult passion. 
What I know that experience did for me was open my eyes and awaken my senses to the encompassing world of an examined and cultivated sensuality of my own design, rooted in pleasure and unbridled energy, felt in my adult body and perceived in my adult mind.

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