But lately the memory of my childhood has been taking over my dreams and thoughts. I came across this site by chance through a friend who is, let just...say “Into tabooish things” Anyway, after reading many of the stories. I am ready to tell my story. I will try to start from my earlest memories and work up to my last memory. Please bear with me. My first memory of my childhood is etched in my mind. I was around 5 or 6, we lived in Slidell, La. It was the late 80’s. I don’t remember if it was ’87. The thought of fucking a woman next to her passed-out husband sent a dark thrill through my body; my pecker seemed to ache even more. I slipped out of the bedroom, padding through the house as quiet as a burglar.After carefully opening the door, I spied the couple on the bed. He was fat, on his back, and snoring like a saw mill, sleeping off his drunk. His wife lay on her side, sandy-blonde hair almost glowing by the moonlight. I ripped away her covers, revealing her body clad in a cotton. More

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