Until I started working on the List, I had never really thought much about my ability to relate to women or the many relationships I had. Growing up, I was reasonably good looking and had natural athletic ability. I had dirty blonde hair, brown eyes and a boyish face that meant I was often told I was "cute." However, it wasn't just my looks that made me popular with girls. I was smart and well spoken, always at the top of my class. That helped, as well. I was a natural leader and often the alpha male in any group I was in, whether or not I wanted to be. That also contributed to my popularity.
But, the thing that I believe attracted girls and women more than any other factor was how I was able to talk to them, to relate to them, to understand them. I listened. I was confident and exuded maturity and sexuality that acted as a magnet. I wasn't born that way, I suppose. I never even realized I was popular with girls at the time. If you had asked me, I'm sure I would have said "no way."
But, as I worked on the List, the more I thought back and remembered, the more I realized that my relationship with females was due to my childhood and formative early years. Inadvertently, I learned so much about what girls wanted from hanging around my sisters and their friends. I was an honorary girl scout, which meant that I was always socializing with girls two to four years older than me. They all loved me, thought I was adorable, and included me in all their activities. I heard and saw everything, recording it all in my brain. I had no male friends back then, no male role models. I developed strong feelings of caring, sensitivity, and vulnerability that made me attractive to women.
That may sound like a horrible childhood for a boy. Trust me; it wasn't. I got to experience things that other boys would never get to enjoy. For example, when the girls would have slumber parties, I was in the middle of them. When they started talking about kissing boys, they would demonstrate on me. As we got older, things became more daring, and I was always the guinea pig. I played "doctor" and "show me yours, and I'll show you mine" many times.
I was also exposed to sexual situations early on. My parents were swingers. They hid it from my sisters and me, as much as they could. I was always perceptive and curious, so I figured things out long before my sisters did. Over the years, I caught them in many compromising situations.
My dad ran a "head shop" in the middle of the red light district of a military town that was frequented by strippers, hookers, and the occasional tranny. I would hang out at his store on weekends, and the ladies of the night found me deliciously cute and would tease me. They would flirt with my father, too, but you could tell it was different. With me, they were just being playful and teasing me with glimpses of tits and ass. With Dad, they would be much more aggressive, eventually going into his office while I was left to "watch the shop." Fifteen minutes later, they'd come back out, and the girl would adjust her clothes or touch up her lipstick. He would give them gifts of merchandise, and they'd leave, blowing him a kiss and flashing me their boobs.
My mother was just as philandering as my father. She was a looker, knew it and knew how to use it to her advantage. When my mother enrolled me in Cub Scouts, the other boys shunned me. They all were friends and lived near each other. I was an outsider. Mom wanted me to have a male role model, someone to fill in for my father, to teach me manly things. She fucked one of the scout leaders, and in exchange, he took me under his wing. That lasted until his wife found out and I had to quit Boy Scouts. So, mom enrolled my sister and me in the 4H and started banging the guy in charge of that. We would spend many days at his farm, doing archery while she was in his house getting boned. How did I know? Remember I said I was curious and perceptive? Well, I thought something was up, so I spied on them and saw them having sex.
She wanted us to learn how to ride horses, so she found a guy with horses and would bang him in exchange for lessons. I got free classes, teachers, and mentors on a wide array of topics and suspected she was giving sexual favors as payment. Mom also never once paid for repairs and maintenance on our house, well not with money.
For a period of a few years, my parents always hung out with this other couple. We even called him Uncle Don and her Aunt Angela, even though they were not related to us at all. They were my parents' swinging partners, and they would come over on weekends every few months. They would all drink heavily and send us kids to our rooms, and then they would swap partners. Dad and Angela would go to the master bedroom, while Mom and Don would go to the guest bedroom. How did I know? I spied. I saw things. Also, we would have to listen to the sex off and on all night.
That all came to a screeching halt one Sunday when Dad caught Don trying to fondle my sister. It was the first time I ever saw my father literally beat the shit out of someone. He punched Don so hard and so many times, he shit his pants. We never saw Uncle Don and Aunt Angela again.
I found my parents' collection of dirty magazines, erotic books, Super 8 reel-to-reel porn movies, and sex toys. I didn't know what half of it was, but I was intrigued enough to find out. I also found in a nightstand next to their bed three books: Sexual Behavior in the Human Male and the corresponding version for the female, otherwise known as the Kinsey reports, and Masters and Johnson's Human Sexual Response. I would sneak them into my room and read them cover-to-cover.
So, my parents never needed to have "the talk" with me. Dad tried once, and I just told him he didn't need to. I told him in exacting detail that I already knew how babies were made. The knowledge I had acquired came in handy when I experimented sexually with girls. I was able to do things to them that completely blew their minds. Some people might think that I was doomed to sexual addiction, but I've never once felt it was an unhealthy obsession.
When I was in the fifth grade, I had a massive crush on this beautiful blonde-haired girl from the seventh grade, named Shirley, who lived in a mobile home behind my house. She played a game with the boys her age, and older, called Seven Minutes in Heaven. The game was basically that the boys spun a bottle and whoever it pointed to got to spend seven minutes, alone, in a dark storage shed with Shirley and do anything she'd let you. Even though I'd kissed many girls when I was used as a guinea pig by my sister's friends, Shirley was the first to really kiss me for pleasure.
I was in love with her, and she thought I was cute and harmless, so she would let me play the game with her. She took her time to teach me the fine art of French Kissing. She taught me how kissing can be used to drive a girl insane and how to do it.
Apparently, some of the older boys weren't quite so harmless, as a few years later Shirley ended up pregnant, strung out on drugs, and working the streets for her pimp, Carlos. I know this because when I was a teenager, she would come to my dad's shop to spend some time with him in his office in exchange for bongs, crack pipes and cosmetic jewelry.
All of that came later. Back when I was in love with Shirley, hanging out with her made me "cool" with a lot of the girls my age, and even some of the older ones. I got a reputation for being a great kisser and great to make out with. So, I had to make out with all of them.
There were three sisters in one family, all stunningly gorgeous. One was my age, one a year older and the third two years older. One summer evening, I'd been outside hanging out with all of them, and some other friends. After I went home, I was in my bedroom and heard a tapping at the window. I look out, and it was Melissa, the oldest of the three girls. She wanted to kiss me, so, I made out with her through the window. After fifteen minutes, she left. No sooner had I laid back down and someone was tapping at the window again. I opened the blinds, expecting Melissa to be back, but it was Meghan, her younger sister. I made out with her for a while, then she left. Again, after a few minutes, someone tapped, and this time it was Madison, the youngest of the three sisters. She climbed in the window, and we made out on my bed until she realized how late it was.
That summer was often crazy like that. Sometimes, the neighborhood girls would sneak me into their sleepovers, or they would sneak out and climb in my window. We would have big makeout parties, just all these girls and me. I would "go with" one of them for a week or so, then we'd break up, and I'd move on to another, then another, then another. While all the guys I knew were busy playing little league baseball and Pop Warner football, I was having makeout parties with their sisters and girlfriends.
It wasn't all that long before the makeout sessions advanced to light petting parties, then heavy petting. I had opportunity after opportunity to go all the way, but for some reason, I didn't. For me, it was more like a game. I was so into playing it that I failed to finish the game.
Then, I got severely injured playing football and was nearly paralyzed. I spent a year rehabilitating and during that time, life went on for everyone else. All of my friends completed their Junior year and went on to be seniors. When I was finally allowed back in school, it was determined that I'd missed too much and had to repeat my Junior year. All my friends would graduate a year ahead of me and go off to college without me.
I hated it. I was depressed and miserable. All my life, I'd hung out with friends who were at least my age, if not older. Now, I was stuck, surrounded by little kids and girls I had no interest in. I didn't want to date anyone and stayed home, alone, for months.
Until I met Doreen.
She had just moved to our neighborhood, having transferred from a different school on the far side of town. She was different than most of the girls my age. She seemed more mature. She had massive boobs, the hair of a shampoo model and the body of a Goddess. I pursued her hard and heavy. We lived near each other, and we would walk home every day together. But, she had secrets. There was a hidden darkness to her. You could see it in the backs of her eyes and in the way she carried herself. She didn't like to go home and would almost never let me near her house. So, instead, we'd go by my house and hang out. We talked and talked every day. Eventually, we started making out.
