When I was about 6 years old I began noticing I felt this strange feeling toward boys…and girls.
I found boys cute, I was labeled “fast” because I understood sex and was told I had very sexual mannerisms about me at a very young age. In truth I was completely oblivious to this until I was around 16 when a close friend started pointing out my mannerisms. Needless to say I altered my natural movements so as not to appear so available.
I wasn’t the only child knowledgeable to sex and all the feelings that come with it. I didn’t coax or influence anyone’s child, we mutually attracted at a very young age. I wasn’t the only sexually aware child.
I had a “boyfriend” I walked to school with & hung out with after school. He lived in my complex. Our parents thought it was cute. Our parents became sociable, they thought we made the perfect pair. We did “love” each other in the most purest of ways and they saw that. Everyone thought we’d get married straight out of high school and live happily ever after. Early. In reality I ruined that relationship when I was 13. We’d been boyfriend and girlfriend from the first to the 8th grade. If it were not for me we would have made it I’m sure.
Around the time him and I first met, I also met a beautiful light skinned girl with long black hair, a soft voice and the most beautiful glow about her. She attracted to me, I instantly liked her and we became friends fast. She’d hang out with me and my boyfriend after school. She lived in our complex as well.
We’d play all sorts of games like hide and seek, kiss n run, doctor, house, hopscotch, skully, all the kid games. We were kids we did kid stuff. My boyfriend and I would hold hands, hug or kiss while she stood by, watching and blushing. I used to ask her over and over again did she like boys and she always said “Ew, that’s nasty.” I’d ask her why then did she blush. She’d blush so beautifully and bat her eyes me in response.
At me. Not him.
I used to feel such a fluttery feeling whenever I knew I was going to see her, whenever she was around me, whenever she came close to me. Visually she glowed so bright to me. Her skin, her hair, oh she smelled so good! She made me want to touch her. She had seductive ways about her at a young age too and boy, I wanted to be so close to her so bad! She wanted me too. She made it clear. We naturally came together.
We kissed one day, and we liked it. We kissed again and again and we liked it more each time. When nobody was looking we’d hug each other so tight and sometimes just smell each other.
We were kids, it wasn’t about sex, it was about intimacy. We’d kiss in front of my boyfriend and it never even crossed his mind to be jealous. We all spent time together as usual after her and I became girlfriends.
Yes, we talked about it and she wasn’t to mess with any other girls but she could have a boyfriend. That way her and her boyfriend could hang out with me and my boyfriend.
Over time kissing became kissing and petting. All three of us. I can’t recall him ever touching her but I clearly recall kissing both of them, touching both of them, both of them touching me.
The three of us spent as much time together as we could. Until her mother became suspicious. She kinda tried to figure out if we were more than best friends in her own way. Whatever she did I couldn’t see my girlfriend as much as I used to. My boyfriend and I remained unchanged, we kept being us and doing us. When she wasn’t around I was sad. He was too. It was the three of us and sometimes it didn’t feel right when she wasn’t there.
Other times he was glad it was just us. He had such a brilliant smile when he was happy I didn’t have a choice but to be happy.
Around this time my mother began to figure out my sexuality because we spent a lot of time at my house. She saw things here and there. The way her and I held hands so comfortably, the way she’d lean on me or lay on my lap as we watched cartoons. How he was always on one side of me, she on the other. Even how the three of us would all hold hands on the way to and from school. We’d skip and laugh and play like the kids we were, but we were kids ‘in love’.
In a triad.
My mom asked me did I like girls one day. I said “yea” without a thought. She wasn’t shocked. She asked me if I liked girls the same way I liked boys. I told her yes. She asked me what I liked about them and I told her.
Their hair, their skin, their smell, the way they laugh, smile, their voices, the way their skin is soft, the way we can be close friends, closer than with a boy. She asked me about me and my best friend, I don’t recall what I said.
What I do recall is being caught in the closet with her not too long after. My little sister was guarding the door, my boyfriend hadn’t come over that afternoon. She and I wanted to kiss so we went in the closet. This time we decided to do a little more than kiss just on the lips. Neither of us had breasts but both of us felt good to each other & we felt wetness between our legs. That space between my thighs seemed to scream and yell at me in such a strange way, I guessed hers was too.
We weren’t having oral sex when mom popped open the door but whatever we were doing (I can’t clearly recall) my mom flipped.
Called her mom.
I never saw her again. I mean I did, for a little while. Before they moved. Abruptly. Very shortly after this incident.
Her and I lived in the same building actually-not just the same complex. Only floors apart. We went to the same school, were in the same grade. If she so much as spoke to me she’d be in a world of shit. We tried to see each other in the building staircases & school bathrooms but it seemed everyone knew. Everyone was watching. She got in trouble a few times. Finally she’d walk right past me, sometimes crying, without speaking.
I cried & cried & cried & cried.
After a time I continued on with my boyfriend. Everyone thought that was cute. Evidently her and I weren’t.
The next time I had a girlfriend I was 11 years old.
I had a boyfriend when her and I met, her boyfriend and mine were best friends.
Stay tuned for more…
-Jay Dee, Founder
P.S NEVER, EVER, EVER will I reveal who the people are in my stories. With or without their consent. Don’t ask!