Just because you are born with a penis doesn't mean you automatically know what to do with it. My first memories of getting to know my penis involved aiming at the cheerio in the toillete (its how my parents kept me from peeing on the seat). After that, it was water pressure in the boys locker room and seeing how far back I could stand and still make it in the child size urinal. With water pressure and "pushing it out" came the opposite of "holding it in." This is when I inadvertantly discovered the PC muscle. Google tells me that women like this muscle to be strong as it can help during the sexy time. However, I was 4 and going on 5, so my fascination was that I could consciously move my dick.

I never really talked about my penis to anyone. My parents totally sucked about the whole sex ed talk. My mom was vacant about it and my dad asked me if I wanted to get some icecream at the store, which allowed him to take the scenic route and tell me spefically about ejaculation and how good it felt. I still remember that bastard smacking his lips; "yep! smack it feels pretty good! smack so do you have any questions?" In retrospect, the pervert lured me as an 8 year old into his pedo-van with candy... and I digress.

Anyway... the point is that my parents did what most parents did and totally fudged the sex talk. And I should have gotten some introduction about "this" and "that" before deciding to show the other kids what my dick could do. Before you starting thinking I was whipping my pud out for classmates, teacher, and apparently GOD to see (I was at a lutheran kindergarten school, by the way), I will say I wasn't.

I had no idea that my dick had an ability to do strange things. As far as I was concerned, I was the same as everyone else with nothing significant about me. This was the case until swimming class later that school year. As me and the other boys were changing in the boys bathroom, we couldn't help but be curious about the lone kid out of the 15 of us (or there abouts) that had foreskin (yes... this means I am a U.S. citizen unfortunately. For some reason it is a cultural norm to mangle your dick as a baby for "cleanliness" and so the doctor can make an extra 500 bucks off of a 3 minute procedure).

Back to the kid with the foreskin... Boom! the kid was strange but not in a bad way. We had childrens' eyes and were mostly curious: "what is that? were you in an accident? it looks like my dog?" Little did any of us know that he was born normal. Still, he was unique and getting attention. I think I was jealous so I became the new freak as I asked them all to look at my dick as I made it move. Noone wanted to touch it, thank god, but they all looked with amusement and we got dressed into our swimming trunks and off to teh pool.

I remmeber sitting on the wet cement floor as our class listened to the swimming instructor speak. It was hard for me to pay attention as my mind kept drifting to the exhileration of my classmates looking at me. So, I happened to show my dick power again: "hey jenny!" I said.

She didn't scream but she wasn't calm either. I don't know exactly what that look was on her face but I know it wasn't good. Maybe, for her, I was a freak, because of that creepy thing in between my legs that she didn't have... I dont know what really happened in her mind, but I do know that that was the first time in my life that I remember feeling some sort of shame.

I hate to think that my childhood shaped me, but I know it's true. So, how did that shame shape me? I'm not quite sure yet. However, i do think that my desire to get naked and run around while drunk has something to do with it. The evidence that is more damning is my current catchphrase: "look at my penis!" Of course, Im not naked when I say this: It's just a carry-over from childhood just like how being inebriated unlocks childhood pathologies of wanting to be nude.

I remember helping my father go through 3.5 floppy disks that were blank. We would put them in the machine and run it from the command prompt (this was before windows) to see what was on it. And that is when we found the game modeled after monopoly: "Sexcapades" by sexy software. It was a game for swingers and video would click on with a coinciding square with instructions "player 1 eat player 2's ass." I remember the androgynous voice, too. It freaks me out now just thinking about it: "show us your cock" and then some guy on screen masterbating.

I was too young to really know what I was looking at. I mean, I was still sticking my penis in the shampoo bottle at this point because it felt good. It never occurred ot me to use my hand and sin to my hearts content. I was SERIOUSLY too young to comprehend what I was looking at. The 8 bit video porn on the screen just seemed to stick on my brain. I never saw the disk again...

Until I was rifling around in my older brother's room about 6 years later. I was 13. I recognized the gray disc and put it in the computer. Noone was home and so I fed my adolescent porn habit in peace until 6 o'clock would come around. That's when my ride to a boyscout meeting would arrive to take me to church. The time came and the disk would not come out of the computer tower. The sleave on the plastic disc was catching on something. My panic got worse when I saw the lights through the windows and a knock at the door, And me being the dumb ass I was left all the lights on in the house to indicate someone was home. The rush was terribly incredible and I could do nothign but hope they would leave so I figure out a way to get the damned thing out of the machine.

The van left and I was left to my more focused self. I slid a metal ruler in the machine to press the slide down on the disk and yanked the thing out. I put it back in my brothers room at what I would guess was the correct position. It took some while to calm down no one knew what I did. And, if for some reason my brother suspected anything, what could he do? He would have to admit to owning the porn disc to accuse me in the first place.

Ah... childhood memories.

when I was about 4-5 the only thing I can remember is standing infront of a table looking at myself in the mirror and thinking "I will remember this moment" Has anyone experienced anything similar?

We had a two car garage when I was a little kid, but we parked the cars outside because there was so much junk in the garage. My father would often go to the county dump to get rid of our yard debris and then he would pick up something interesting in the pit that he could fix and sell. My father's mania of creating fell away as soon as he got home and the pile in the garage would grow as a result. His catch phrase was "i'll get to it later."

I liked going into our garage because it was like this strange treasure trove. There was so much shit burried in there that, even though I had daily access to it, I would find something new. I would have to step carefully, though, because paintcans, and grinders, and buckets, and saws, and throwing knives, and sewing machines, and... fuck there was everything in there. I remember finding two slide rules (for those of you that don't know, slide rules are what we had before calculators, and it's what NASA used to calculate apollo 13s return path to earth after shit hit the fan). I even found national geographic magazines from 1908. When I say there was everything in that garage, I mean there was everything. I will likely have more stories about finding things in the garage but this story focuses on me finding stuff to make what my 4 year old mind thought was a firework.

Now, me being the creative lad that I was, I was convinced tht I could make my own firework by wrapping 4X6 index cards around a bottle rocket without the stem. Somehow, I could take credit in spite of the company that made the actual rocket. Whatever. I was 4 at the time and I had my fantasies and imagination.

In the end, I had a paper wad mass that was about the size of a softball with the fuse burried. This was my firework. I told all of my family about it. I told them that I had made a firework. You can imagine everyone's reaction to such bold claims of a 4 year old. "oh, thats nice," they would say. My brother, on the other hand was like "get out of my room!" I was ignored.

But, with enough persistance they finally listened to me. They figured that if I could demonstrate my firework that I would leave them alone. Everyone came outside and stood on teh steps and I put the balled up mass on a piece of wood as a kind fo launch pad.

I brought the flame down to the paper and part of the card stock lit. My family was expecting to see the ball of indexe cards catch on fire and burn out and that would be that. And that is how it would have went had it not been for the bottle rocket I stashed inside.

A yawn and ten seconds later and the thing took off. Even though it was encumbered it still took off. And, this is when I realized what that stick was for on the bottle rocket. Not only is that stick to keep the rocket pointed up, it is also there to give a bit of drag so that the bottle rocket would go in a straight line. I snapped that stick off so I had a rogue ball of firey cardstock.

My firework shot south and and spun around and came so close to hitting my father in the face. His feet were stuck to the ground in shock as he bent back to avoid a firey sucker punch. then the thing changed directions again. It went out toward our front lawn and exploded.

No one was mad at me as they were all too shocked to figure out what just happened. In the end, my father asked me about the process of what I did and where I got my supplies. I told him I found it all in the garage so it was his fault and not mine.

In the end, they all went about their business with a lesson learned to take me seriously. And, I got to show them my firework. I'm still proud of that till this day.

My parents were divorced and I was living with my father at the time. My decision to live with him was based on the flip of a coin. Although my parents don't really know that. Living with him ultimately led me to be who I am now, though I am not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. I do suspect that had I stayed with my mother then I would have been a totally brain-washed mormon with short hair. Instead, I have lovely locks, I swear like a sailor, and I love eating pussy. I don't know why I put the eating pussy comment in there... just seemed relevant somehow. Maybe it's because the mormons I know think oral sex is a sin. As far as I'm concerned, it is a sin worth sinning.

You know... come to think of it I didn't want to live with my mother because I didn't want to live in Utah. That place is seriously fucked up. Women like the butt-sex as it preserves their virginity, and couples go to vegas to get married so they can have sex on the weekend and then they get it anulled so it is sanctioned in god's eyes. Maybe it wasn't so much a flip of the coin that determined which parent i lived with. However, in retrospect, it was still a toss up because living with my father was a terribly fucked up experience for a whole slew of other reasons... some of which helped me get into a psychiatric facility.

Fuck... where was I? This was totally going somewhere good but then I lost it.

Ah! yes... I remember now. I was living with my father. Basically, the pretense to the story is that he was a fucked up man. I will be sure to tell you other stories in the future about that. Trust me. They get better, or worse depending on how you look at it.

So, to add to my father's character: he is one of those fathers that bonds with his children by going to a movie. Now, for some of you in the know, you don't do that on a first date or even a second date. The reason why is it really isn't bonding. Living with my father was like living with a room mate. He basically had a sock on the door when i came home from school to let me know he was with a woman. That kind of paternal bonding I just don't want. The relationship was strange with no foundation except for movies and the fact that he fed me... kind of.

So, I go along with the habbit of seeing movies with my dad. This was a bi-weekly thing and I had to keep up with the movies so I would get movie tips from my friends at school. I had a few intelligent friends and some of them were more intelligent than others, and of those intelligent friends were a few assholes. All I can say now is I will never forgive that specific ass-hole that suggested I go see boogie nights with my father. He described it as a coming of age story... said ti was hard to explain but that it was actually pretty good. I had no idea it was a movie based on the life of John Holmes.

For those of you that don't know, John Holmes was a porn star that died of a horribly painful Aids related death. However, BOOGIE NIGHTs didn't get that far. It just covered the stardom and downfall and comeback of a pornstar's career. And this particular pornstar by the name of "DIRK DIGGLER" happened to have a penis the size of my arm. All throughout the movie the size of that man's dick was alluded to. One scene you actually see the buldge in his underwear as it nearly wraps around his leg and touches his ass.

So, I watch this movie with my father and its just one sex scene after another. How could it be anything else? The movie was about a porn star! Of course there was a lot of fucking.

AND IT WAS AWKWARD

However, with enough exposure to a certain stimulus, you can drown it out and even get accustomed to it. So, all that nudity and sex really wasn't that traumatizing. I believe the darklights helped a bit as well as my amazing ability to dissociate. But, what snapped me back to reality is when the main character pulled out his dong at the end of the movie. And let me tell you: seeing that thing on a forty foot screen was terrifying. I looked into the abyss with that one. I experienced the dark night of my soul because of a 10 foot dick that made the sound of a descending bomb whistling before it crashed against the pant leg of the porn star. My reaction and everyone elses reaction in the theater was to push themselves back into their seats to get away from the monster: all heads moved back in unison though noone's eyes looked away from the predator.

Dirk Diggler put his dong away and the movie ended and my father and I didn't talk to eachother walking out of the theater nor on our way to his truck nor on the drive home. It was teh most uncomfortable silence in the world and, again, I was begining to get accustomed to it. That is, until my dad decides to open his mouth: "I'm surprised he didn't pass out with every erection." My father snapped me back into reality as if he had slapped his dick against my face or forced me to watch a 10 foot dick on a 40 foot screen. I didn't say anything. He sensed the strangeness and to his credit, he left me alone.

Some years later I saw that movie again. It was like going back to the field of battle after the war ended. It gave me closure somehow. But, more importantly, when that dick fell on a smaller screen, I skoffed: "it's not that big."

Steely Dan- countdown to ecstacy, Alanis morrisette- jagged little pill, aerosmith - pump, Elton John - goodbye brick road, David Bowie- spiders from Mars

I was a little naive back then. I am a 23 year old young woman, going on 24 now. We always had neighborhood kids come over in and out of that yellow house ... back then. We liked to play pretend. So to make a long story short I’m going to just go on an report what happened. I was playing with a toy book with pushable buttons. It was always fun to play a part. I acted like a priest and pretended to propose to this black girl who was a little older than my age. (Black is all I can use to describe her other than the fact that she smelled of that old neighborhood smell. ) Anyways we were only little kids when it happened. After we “got married” she led me into my room at that old yellow house. We hopped onto a bed and laid down like a “couple”. She was behind me and I just stared out of the window dumbfounded. Then it happened. First she started behind my neck. She licked me side-to-side behind my neck (I wore a ponytail at the time). Yea, something wasn’t right. I cringed for her to stop, but no. From there, we ended up with a blanket onto the floor next to that window near my bed. From the outside of my door we could not be seen. Long story short, she laid me down and pulled up my training bra/hick shirt. I also had on long waisted shorts. She gently started french kissing my breasts. The last one was my left. Afterwords, she traced my lips with her tongue with both my eyes closed. I winked out of the window at this light. And just lied there. Ha. After she was “done” we got up and ate popsicles like the event was business. She tasted and smelled horrible. I will never forget this. It’s not much but I hated it. She was black and I was me. me and my boobies and fragile lips done and had. There. Like I said not much and I hated it. The end. I’m not lesbian and hopefully saying no and a push will befall me in the future. I just laid there.

Okay so I'm not sure if this is the right community for this but I'll give it a shot. I'm 18. When I was in I think 1st grade, our guidance counselor showed us this movie (or possibly show) that looked like it was from the 80's or 90's. It was about this girl who gets pulled into this fantasy world where she meets a rabbit (who's just a kid dressed like a rabbit) and this "black knight" who she turns into a "light knight" (or something, I know it sounds mildly racist). And so the three of them have to save the land from this evil wizard guy named Zorc, Zor, Zar, Zarc (you get the picture). It's very very low budget, incredibly cheesy, and I'm pretty sure the theme song went like "Let's be friends, let's be friends". If anyone knows the name of it or knows where I can find it, please leave a comment. There's always a chance I just hallucinated this, but I'm 99% it's real.

I think I was 8 or 9 or 10 or something, and I sometimes liked to watch memes on my parents' phones. I saw some why is the FBI here memes and I actually thought that if I searched up "where is the lamb sauce" then the FBI would track me down, so I never searched it. And still today, knowing that the FBI is completely okay with it and it's just a joke, I still haven't searched it. I might do it after I post this.

So, I'm pretty sure that this is just a weird nightmare I had as a child but I still think about it a lot. The only thing I remember about the whole episode is the end part. Phineas somehow knows who Perry's real identity/job is and he's like "Wait, Perry don't go!" While Perry looks back with a kinda sad expression. The whole scene is really dark, there's rain and dark clouds and they're standing on their house's roof. Perry then flies away from the house on a flying surfboard ((idk)) unaware that HIS TAIL IS LITERALLY HELD DOWN ON THE ROOF BY A NAIL. And instead of stopping to take it off, he keeps going and his tail rips off. The episode ends by Phineas and Ferb waking up and realizing it was just a dream. I'm 99% sure it was just a nightmare because Disney would never show that but it just felt like i was legit watching the show. That memory still freaks me out even after 6 years.

my dad would kiss my neck for years and i didn't really want him to but he always explained it away. he had a game called the palate game where he'd tickle the roof of my mouth with his finger. i asked him about this game and he said "what? you don't do that with your girlfriends?" for years he'd wrap his legs around me when we were watching tv in bed together and stuff. he once had me drink a cup of vinegar water once when i had a stomach ache. he'd pressure me to eat a lot, he doesn't really eat and it's like i was eating for him. he's been a victim of a lot of abuse so i feel so awful having these feelings but sometimes this bad feeling just hits me and i feel really fucked up. he loves me so much, but sometimes it almost feels like too much, why the fuck am i complaining about that thats not a problem lmao! my grandma says he treats me more like his wife than his daughter but she doesn't think he'd ever hurt me. he conflates our identities a lot and acts like we're the same person. just, shit feels... off. i don't see him too much these days, i'm 17 and have kinda distanced myself (my parents are separated), not for any express reasons, but there is something that just sits at the back of my mind and comes up once in a while and i can't seem to disappear the thoughts this time, were the things i described appropriate? i know they're really small so it's stupid to fixate, i wasn't even thinking so much about these specific things at first, there's just this feeling of doom and OH SHIT SOMETHING HAPPENED that hits me sometimes and those are the only things i can really think of

When I was in elementary (maybe 3rd or 4th grade) and I was at this fundraiser. I remember having this weird sweet or something where it was either a stick of licorice in a lemon. It was really sweet or something and I loved it but I dont know what ot was. Please help figure out what ot was.

When I was a kid I picked up a camera chip the wrong way on accident and had 20 volts go into my finger. Now have a scar. Was pleasantly reminded the other day when I electrocuted myself. Ever since that time which was in fifth grade, each time someone brings up anything slightly related I get a flashback Sorry for the shitty pun for the title.