How did I become a pervette?

I think it started when I was 2. I was sitting on the carpeted floor, next to my mom’s closet. It was daytime, but the room was dark. My mom walked over to the closet and she began to take off her shirt. Maybe she was getting dressed to go somewhere. I was sitting next to her feet. As I looked up I noticed she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Whoa. I was trying to make sense of what I saw (I should mention I was never breastfed as a baby). They were two perfectly smooth balls of flesh that protruded from her upper body. They looked like squishy toys with eyes staring back at me. I was in awe. My mom grabbed a bra from the closet. I wanted a closer glimpse of these strange toys, actually I wanted to touch them. I got on my feet and started reaching for her fleshy pillows. Before my mom can put on her bra,  she detected my grabby hands coming for her. She quickly covered herself with her hands and bra. That didn’t stop me from wanting to touch her. I reached for her. She spun around. I followed her, laughing. She spun around some more. I was chasing her in circles. Now it’s just a fun game. Grab the balls! But before I could, she yelled at me to stop. I recognized that tone in her voice. I’m gonna get punished for this. And punished means being on your knees, facing the wall, for hours. So I stopped. She put on her bra and a very 70’s magenta blouse with puffy sleeves. And that was that, the first and last time I saw my mom topless. But what stopped there continued in my mind. I spun fantasies around these weird jubbly things. Fantasies of them being exposed and their owners being embarrassed because of it. I learned later from my sister that what I saw was actually called boobies. Even its name sounds like a toy. Why do moms want to hide their toys from us? And why are they punishing us for wanting them?

It’s all too Freudian I know. A child looks up and sees her mom’s breasts and develops a boob fetish. Her first exposure to embarrassment was seeing the look on her mom’s face as she’s trying to cover herself. Boom. Humiliation fetish. I think it was as simple as that. I have this theory that if you’re a curious person you’ll eventually find your way to kink. But was I always curious? Or did it begin when my mom took off her sweater that day and I realized all the interesting stuff was underneath?

(To be continued…)

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