|
|
| Post War Era #6:- My New Fetish- B= 0; S= 100 |
I re-discover the enjoyment of wearing loose comfortable shorts especially when I would be playing with my balloons. <Ret. to Post War Era Index> |
In August of 1948 my step mom's family held a Sunday family picnic reunion at a small amusement park located about an hours drive from the house. All her relatives were there, but there were no other kids near my age present in the group. It was a small park and they had perhaps six mechanical rides along with the usual swings, slides, jungle gyms, etc. For a fixed fee per head, families could enter the park, use picnic tables and a fireplace, and ride all day on the mechanized rides.
We arrived just after lunch time and most of the other relatives were already set up at a table in the picnic pavilion. We unpacked our eats and then mingled with the others while my step mom introduced Dad and I around because we were strangers to many of them that hadn't met us before. When this preliminary gab fest was finished and all the relatives had arrived we filled up on all the yummy food that had been brought.
After eating I was pretty much left on my own. I wandered around the park for about a half hour then started riding on the several mechanical rides. The park was fairly crowded and it usually required a bit of a wait at each of the rides. The young men who were manning the rides gave every patron several minutes. As I was standing in the line waiting to get on a rotary ride called a Tilt-A-Whirl I noticed a boy about my age riding on the carousel. What immediately attracted me to him was the fact that he was wearing a pair of white, what I presumed were, tennis shorts. As he swung into view again and again I couldn't take my eyes off his strong muscular leg jutting out below the hem of his shorts as he gripped the flank of his steed. The leg of the shorts was nice and loose and in his seated position extended about a third of the way down to his well formed knee. He was not holding on to the pole but was keeping himself securely seated on his prancing wooden mount through leg pressure alone. Before he got off the carousel it was my turn to get on my ride and I lost sight of him.
He was the first boy over perhaps six or seven years of age I had seen wearing shorts except for occasionally older boys in their scout uniforms when they were involved in some official scouting function. There were perhaps a half a dozen other very young boys wearing shorts I had seen in the park, but most of them still probably had diapers on underneath. After I got off the Tilt-A-Whrl ride I made a concerted effort to find the boy again so I could see what he looked like when he was standing up and his shorts would be loosely hanging about his well muscled legs. It took a while but I finally spotted him over by the picnic grove.
He was standing talking with the adults he was with. His back was toward me and he looked even better with his white shorts hanging freely away from his nicely muscled thighs. He was wearing white calf length socks that surprisingly weren't crumpled around the top of his Keds he was wearing. I thought how much better he might have looked with nicely cuffed over knee length stockings forming a nice turnover roll just below his nicely formed knees. I didn't dare stare at him too long because my group was standing nearby and might wonder what I thought was so attractive about him. Also I didn't want them to see the hard on I was getting as I looked at that sexy boy wearing his beautiful white shorts.
I was hoping to get a chance to perhaps talk with him to find out how he had found sufficient courage to sport his pretty bare legs in such a public place. I hadn't seen him as he was walking around but I bet he attracted plenty of stares and nasty comments. Unfortunately when I glanced back in his direction a few minutes later, he and his family were across the open area and headed for the gate.
I couldn't wait to get home that night. I wanted to see if by some luck the blue shorts mother had bought me two years earlier when she had burned my Mickey Mouse balloons would still fit. They had been over size for me at the time. Unfortunately dad, my step mom, and several of the other relatives were embroiled in a game of penny ante and we didn't head for home until nearly eight at night. When we got home it was a least nine and I didn't think a massive search and find operation in the attic would go unnoticed. Also I didn't think answering their question that I was searching for an old pair of shorts because a kid that had been wearing shorts at the park had gotten me sexually stimulated would have played too well either. I would have had trouble sleeping that night if it weren't for the relaxation my jack off produced. Since I was five years old this was the first time I had fantasized about cotton rather than rubber during a self indulgence period.
As soon as dad and my step mom left for work the next day I rushed up to the attic. To my surprise I had little trouble finding my formally despised abbreviated pants. They were still packed in with the rest of my winter clothes from years earlier. I rushed downstairs and into my room with them.
I was able to get the shorts on. Unfortunately they were not loose and comfortable as I had remembered them the day mom had burned my Mickey balloons. In fact the seat of the pants felt like it was going to bust open when I squatted and bent forward thrusting my buns into the seat of the sadly undersized garment. HOwever, just having them on and viewing my pristine white legs in the mirror was sufficient to give me a hard on. The trouble was the tightness at the waist and about my hips did not allow any room for frontal expansion and my erection became rather uncomfortable.
I sadly removed the shorts and slipped back into my jeans. I found a metal wire clothes hanger and took it and the shorts out behind the barn where our incinerator was located. I buttoned up the shorts and hung them by the waist from the hanger. I then held a lit match and touched it to the hem of each leg. The flames soon ate their way through the heavy hems then started racing up the cotton legs. From that point it was only a few seconds until the entire pair of shorts was engulfed in flames. The cotton was quickly consumed and within less that a minute and a half there was only charred ash and memories left of my good pair of blue camp shorts. Watching the flames devour the cotton gave me the same sexual stimulation I got when I watched balloons burning. In the following years many more shorts would get burned in a similar sacrificial manner to stoke my sexual pleasures.
From this point on I found wearing shorts very stimulating; even more so during the times when I was playing with balloons. All the old memories from the balloon fun time with my dad when I would be wearing shorts would come flooding back. In addition the rubber contact with my bare legs really added to my sexual stimulation.
Although I was sure wearing shorts around the house and to play in would have been quite acceptable to my father, the fear of the ridicule from my friends and the memory of the beating I had received years earlier from other boys caused me to keep my love of short pants under wraps the same as I did with my love for balloons.
Because I had no financial or even readily available physical means of obtaining short pants that would fit a thirteen year old other than gym shorts my only recourse was to truncate the legs of an old pair of comfortably fitting chino slacks that I had worn to school the previous year. This got me the desired leg exposure but it wasn't the same as actually having on a nice pair of full cut shorts with baggy legs. I'm sure if I had asked my father he would have bought me shorts to wear; but I was afraid of the questions he would ask because all the boys my age that I knew wouldn't be caught dead wearing shorts. Even if I came up with acceptable answers he would certainly insist that I wear the shorts all the time around the house where my two buddies Dave and Mike would see me, and worse possibly even when I might be out in public around other kids or adults. With my introverted psyche I wasn't about to try to deal with the jeers and stares that wearing such childish pants would surely generate.
In those days the pants legs of blue jeans and chino slacks were relatively thigh hugging and the remaining pant leg did not have nearly the excess space that a properly designed pair of shorts would have. One of the great features I found wearing shorts is the ease in which I could urinate by simply lifting the inside hem of one leg and sticking my stem out. With my cut-offs this was difficult because when the cut end of the leg was pulled up to the crotch area, the limited amount of material in the leg made it hard to reach in with my hand and maneuver the required hardware into position. I realized that at least for now this was all I had to work with, so I painstakingly with needle and thread, sowed up a hem on each of the cut off pant legs. This task must have taken a good three hours; but I at last had a pair of sturdy short pants that would allow me to run around in the woods and get my exposed knees dirtied and maybe skinned up a tad.
I also wore these shorts inside the house on Friday and Saturday nights when my dad and step mom were out. During those years my much younger step brother would stay at his grand parents house over the weekend, so I was home alone. Many nights I wore the shorts outside after dark when no one would be likely to see me. During the day when I was outside I wore them only when I was far down in the woods where I would also play with my balloons. On these occasions I would put the shorts on under my long pants that I would jettison once I got to my play area. On one occasion I was so anxious to ditch my long pants that I forgot where I had taken them off and stashed them. It took me over two hours in the gathering darkness to finally locate them and I was panic stricken that I would have to go home wearing my cut off pants. That would have been really tricky to explain to my dad and step mom. Fortunately I was just late for supper.
A few weeks after the picnic my
eighth grade of school started and I was issued a white and a green gym
outfit. These gym shorts were used exclusively in the house during my balloon
play up in my room. They were nice and baggy and were super great to jack
off in. Rev.
Date 4/03
<Continue to Post War Era #7>