Coming to terms with Barbie and my mother

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Coming to terms with Barbie and my motherAlicia and I went to a house in Palmdale to whore For Al Lombardi. Our whore names were Brenda and Janet, She and I were hugging and kissing on the pink bed. I had most of my clothes off, and Janet still had most of hers on. I wanted to get things going. I looked into one man’s eyes. ”I need some dick to suck tonight. Can you help me out?” I blew him while Alicia played with my pussy and slid her tongue in and out of my ass. We had practiced a little before we left Los Angeles. The guys at the party were standing around the bed, just looking at us. I had thought a lot about this before we got to this house, what it meant to have sex and to be the girl doing these crazy parties. I wasn’t nervous at all, I’d had plenty of sex, with single lovers, boys, and girls, men and women, my own sister, my own mother, even my guardian angels! Maybe these guys were nervous, I couldn’t tell. They were pretending not to be. While we were waiting for all the boners to come out, I wasn’t thinking about sex, I was thinking about my BarbieWhen I was four or five, My dad got me a Barbie. This was in a time before any girl was jaded about Barbie. The doll was tall and thin, with weird looking legs. She had a big boob rack and a tiny waist and hips. sarıyer escort She didn’t look like any girl or woman I had ever seen. Perhaps that was part of her mystique? I was just making a developmental transition, at that age, from regarding my Barbie as a personal totemic being with extraordinary powers to understanding her as a toy that my dad got at some big store. Now that I understood that Barbie was a product I thought I should talk to my mom about some special concerns I had.“Mom, can you get me a short Barbie? You know, like me.” I did my version of a ballerina turn.“Honey, we need to talk. Sit down, Syl, stop jumping around like that. You are driving your mom fucking nuts today. Okay, look, here’s the truth. There isn’t such a thing as a “short” Barbie or a Negro Barbie, or a Jewish Barbie, or a Barbie with glasses. There is no such thing as a fat Barbie either. I’ve never seen a Barbie who is short, like us, or one who has a shaped nose, like your sister. As far as I know, there is only one kind of Barbie. She always looks like this.” ( Later, Barbie developed many sizes and identities, but this was around 1960.) It took a week or before I completely absorbed the idea that Barbie wasn’t ever going esenyurt escort to look like me or Rachel or my mom or anybody I ever knew. My attitude toward her changed. Rachel (my sister) and I regularly tortured and defiled Barbie, pulling off her legs and arms, and burning her breasts with wooden matches. We cut her long legs down so she would move the way that Rachel and I did. It wasn’t very long after that that I began to form some ideas about sex. Like any k**s, Rachel and I had Barbie’s panties off as fast as we could discreetly do that maneuver. To our shock, Barbie had nothing “down there” at all, just a blank, bare nothing where her pussy cleft should be. Except for my dad, it was an all-woman household. The idea that this toy could be shaped like a girl, without essential girl body parts freaked me out. It bothered me so much that I was afraid to talk to my mom about it, and I talked to her about everything! At that moment,. Rachel and I got our clothes off and looked at each other, then held “Barbie” up. A girl with no pussy and no asshole, either. Rachel and I, four and five, agreed on the spot that that was really strange. We just couldn’t understand why she was made that way. A week later my cousin Lee, age eight, came avrupa yakası escort over. Lee seemed like the avatar of sophistication to my sister and me. He had his own “Ken ” doll. He put Ken directly on top of her. He said we were going to make Ken “fuck” her now. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. He pushed the Ken up and down on her and made all these weird noises in his Barbie voice. “C.mon baby, give it to me” and other odd stuff. Lee said, “Ken” didn’t have a dick either, so Ken and Barbie were pretending to “fuck”, whatever “fuck” meant in that context. “Fuck ” was a word my mom used all the time, but I had no idea what it had to do with these two weird dolls. I was so upset, I began to cry. I threw Lee and Rachel out of my room, laid on the bed, and cried and cried.A a few hours later, I pulled myself together and went in search of mom. She couldn’t explain why Barbie didn’t have the body parts that we did, she said: “It doesn’t make a bit of fucking sense”. She explained to me what ‘fuck” and “fucking” meant. “Honey, listen to me. There is a lot here. You know, you can get a sip from the garden house, but you can’t put a fire hose in your mouth, so we’ll go nice and slow with this Don’t worry, I’m going to tell you what’s going on, just not all at once.”She was right. I had way too many questions She sat in the kitchen and talked to me in thirty-minute bursts from Monday through Thursday. I learned about biology, and I learned what ”fucking” was.That’s when I became aware that I was in love with her. Ten years later, that became an event that changed the direction of my life.

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