ominously forewarning me, caught me on the way home from school to steal a

kiss. Indignant and incensed, I told my mother, who called the school. Well, the
school official guessed that I was the one who had been the aggressor,
considering that one event made me incorrigible. My mother determined to believe
them.
I can't entirely blame my
Mom here, because in kindergarten at an alternate school I ran a "witch gang"
of girls who grabbed the lads for me to kiss. The teacher, the principal and my
parents believed we were horrid, but it was howling great enjoyment at the time.
However, when a worse situation arose two years after this fifth grade kiss, it
never happened to me to tell anyone because I'd burned an important bridge
Unwittingly.
What happened is this: two
boys, Jack and Britt, ages 15 and 14, came to my house early one morning when I
was alone and still in my shortie pajamas. I had opened the door because my
Pal Peggy had only called to say she was coming over. (Jack was her
boyfriend, and Peggy liked to draw pictures of dick, presumably his. Drawing
them with her was another example of interested indifference on my part.) Jack and
Britt had seen before, so although I was uncomfortable about it, I let them
in and started off to my room to get dressed. But they followed me down the
hall.
Jack caught me from
behind, wrestled me to the floor, place his hand between my legs and I froze at
that second. Britt, standing over us, said, "Hey, she likes it!" I think my
Apparent and extreme mortification was what prevented it from going any farther.
But it went far enough to really efficiently short-circuit the connection between
my genitals and my brain for a long time. When I lost my virginity, I 'd to inquire,
"Is it in yet?" and I do not think it was just the large amount of booze I Had
consumed that had numbed my senses.
A couple of years later another
fifteen-year old lad tried much the same matter with me, but this time on the
sidewalk of a deserted road at night. Having already been desensitized,
literally, it was much less traumatic. Better yet, I had the enjoyment of
Capturing him myself, with just a little help, and presenting him to the police.
So, how in the world was I
able to become a naturist? Well, if nudity were chiefly sexual, or somehow
asexual or anti-sexual, or less than invigorating and delightful, I probably never
would have. And if I hadn't desired revolutionary change in my life I probably would
have gone on as I was, but more slowly. As it was, I managed and made progress.
By the time I was thirty,
I 'd finally overcome disgrace and frigidity to the point of having the capability to fully
enjoy sex, so long as my partner illustrated he could be trusted
unconditionally. Update 10/2015: There's no link to read Ms. Hall's full blog post because it appears to have been deleted from her web site at givenbreath.com. meant that sex had to be taken somewhat seriously. My first
marriage had failed, partly for sexual motives, and in between was hopeless. The
girl who ran witch gangs and experiments wrote dry as dust computer programs,
wore suits, spoke little, and dreamed too often of spiders and 15-year old boys
and their grins.
Well, I managed to find
someone I could trust and adore, and did so for a few really joyful years,
until he died unexpectedly of a heart attack. The grief overwhelmed me for quite a
while. And then a good buddy -- a jolly, bearded man who arranged the
after-hours shifts of coworkers who babysat until I was prepared to leave for my
empty house -- encouraged me to see a place in the Santa Cruz mountains called
"Getting In Touch." This was aa massage school and fkk retreat, now defunct.
And this was where I started to recover, partly because I had to, and partially because
the surroundings made a beginning almost unavoidable.
My first visit was for a
weekend massage workshop. I arrived early and there was no one available to show

me around or get me oriented. I was perfunctorily seen to the locker room
and encouraged to relax a little while at the pool or hot tub. I believe not making a
big deal about it, supposing that I could handle getting nude in public for the
first time free of guidance, actually made it easier than otherwise. I stripped
down, alone in the locker room, stepped out the door and Wham! Two instant
Wonders: no part of me was broken up from another and the breeze in my pubic hair
tickled deliciously! I wished right then that I hadn't made a point of having my
legs waxed, another awesome experience, the day before.
This felt so goo