I Was a MILF Lover at Age Eleven!

On the way home from work today I passed by the corner where two asshole brothers often spend their time sitting on a park bench beside the one's home, and I had one of those EUREKA! moments (when the lightbulb goes on over one's head) when I remembered the former wife of the bulbous nosed, red-faced brother who wears his alcoholism on his sleeve, or more precisely smack dab in the middle of his face, unlike the other whose drunken stagger might be mistaken for a touch of the rheumatism by the casual passer by. I don't hold their inability to turn down a drink against them; my abhorrence runs deeper because they're like a pair of good ol' boys transplanted up here from one of those places at which Jeff Foxworthy constantly pokes fun, complete with being abusive toward their families and humanity in general. They just happen to drink too much as a bonus.

What I remembered today when I drove past where Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dumber were perched on their bench was this - that I "wanted" the wife of the big nosed brother even when I was only about eleven years old. I realized, just about an hour ago, that I was a MILF lover long before the acronym for "Mother I'd Love to Fuck" was invented. Long before I'd ever seen a hot babe naked in a magazine. Long before I had any inkling that my little dick was for more than pissing. The house where big nose beat and berated his wife and kids was on the walk that took me to just about anywhere I'd venture as a kid - grandma's house, the corner store, church, and school, and often when passing by I'd catch a glimpse of her on the porch, or doing something in the yard - and I wanted her! I remember fantasizing about her!

Now, granted, I estimate that I was in the fourth grade when my infatuation with Mrs. So-and-So first manifested itself, and my fantasies were of the kind where I imagined her in the face of some form of horrible danger into the face of which I flew as a generic masked do-gooder (slash) avenger to save her at the last minute from a most horrible fate, but nonetheless I wanted her. Wanted to be with her. Wanted her to see me as worthy of her adulation - as her knight in shining armor. This afternoon when I passed that same corner where her ex and his idiot brother sat I realized what it was that I'd really wanted. I'd wanted to fuck the living shit out of Mrs. So-and-So. Wanted to bang her like a swinging saloon door and knock her off her hinges. Wanted to fuck her hard, and deep, and fast, till she was screaming for me to stop not because I was hurting her, but because she was close to losing consciousness from the pleasure of my cock pistoning away at her cunt like the business end of a jack hammer. Of course I didn't know that at the time, but I'm sure now that that's what I really wanted when I imagined myself flying through the window in my cape and spiffily decorated lycra suit to spare her from the dentist's drill!

(I swear, everything in my entire life was somehow about my dick. Perhaps Dr. Freud wasn't as crazy as I'd thought!)