It was simple and logical. Boys had those wonderful things called pricks or cocks which elevated them at once to a position of inherent superiority. I... like all giror mls, only had a disgusting thing called a cunt which was nothing more than a nasty, stinking hole beetween my legs.For quite a while I could see almost NO purpose for my cunt. I used it to piss out of, just as the Boys pissed out of their manly pricks. Then my older brother, only five years to my three but almost precociously wise. The thing was that the blanket lay behind Vicdaen so I had to lean over him to get it. As I did he caressed my arms, shoulders and breasts. But he did so without the passion he had used earlier in his touch. From the look in his eyes it was possessiveness that ruled his actions, but the touch was cheerful, like he valued the feel of my skin."You're afraid, aren't you? It's not that I won't fit inside you, you fear that I won't fit with you." How awfully acute of him. Painfully correct. So, I. More

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