I was a 5th Grade Sex God

Hi. My name is Stuart and I would like to invite you to travel back to the 1980s with me so I can share with you, how my odd little brain had me fooled into believing that I was the greatest womanizing virgin that had ever walked the Earth. I was convinced that my woman loving would go down in history, overshadowing tales of the great Don Juan Demarco and Gene Simmons of the rock band, KISS, who was my god and idol that I so excessively had posters and pictures of, plastered on every wall in my bedroom from the ripe age of 6 years old. 



The year was 1982, Ronald Reagan was talkin' Reaganomics and MTV had just invaded American living rooms the year before and actually played music videos around the clock, force-feeding youngsters with explosive pop culture. Every kid I knew, had Pacman fever after the introduction to video arcades, where we would feverishly spend every last quarter of our allowances and lawn mowing money, like little mini crackheads. In a trap house-like fashion, these arcades kept sprouting up everywhere that didn't mind becoming the main meeting place for kids of all ages. Just about every strip mall, shopping plaza, and shopping mall became our drug dealer, facilitating the perfect dark, neon-lit space to feature our favorite free standing arcade games, lined up side by side sequentially and towering over us kids like colorfully flashing, noisy, musical monolithic gift boxes from an advanced alien civilization. . and boy, was I hooked!



Our local video arcade was less than a mile down the street from my house and I can honestly say that was the one thing that motivated me to give up my Saturday morning ritualistic cartoon binge as I would shovel Crunchberrys, Trix, and Honeycomb, depending on which brand my mother had in our cupboard, in my face, completely oblivious to how the cereals rough texture was quite literally, shredding the flesh from the roof of my mouth as I chewed in a hypnotic daze, glued to our television set in the living room until almost noon.



I was in the 5th grade, attending a private Montessori school in Saint Louis, Missouri, where I was being groomed for the "real world", is carefully programmed to

operate from the conservative mindset of thinking in terms of "reality". This is when my life mission for landing Daisy Duke from the brand new primetime TV show, the Dukes of Hazzard, in my bed, was beginning to appear unrealistic and even possibly- out of the question. Perhaps I was fascinated with anything and everything sex-related, at an early age in comparison to most of the kids in my class, who were far more focused on the newest star wars movie, the empire strikes back and the always growing assortment of action figures and toys that seemed to disappear off the toy store shelves faster than they could keep them in stock. Now, don't get me wrong, I was obsessed with star wars culture and still collected the toys and played with them, but 1982 was the year that sexual awareness kicked me with a direct punt in the dingaling, to say the least, unknowingly bringing together all the components needed to create one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

It surely seemed like I was the only boy in class that started to recognize how the girls were beginning to look less like girls and more like teenagers. Two of the more obvious examples of this were Janet and Tina, who I never gave a second glance, back in 4th grade. Mostly because girls were gross and stupid and everything that they found interesting, bored the living snot out of me.



Janice was a smaller-sized girl with long, dirty blonde hair and a cute, kitten-like face. I spent hours talking on the phone with her when I got home from school every day. Tina was a little less attractive than Janice, moosey and well developed for a girl her age with big budding breasts and a big ass that seemed to catch everybody's attention in the classroom because it would carelessly bump into things, knocking papers, pencils, and books off of kid’s desks as she walked by.

But my biggest crush was on my sultry teacher, Mrs. Morgan, who was the textbook definition of the word TILF (teacher I'd like to fuck). Mrs. Morgan was a total babe, tall, and wore high heels that helped showcase her well-defined calf muscles and perfectly round ass. But what she was packing in her, sometimes revealing blouses, were two of the most shapely, soft breasts that reminded me of two bouncy, fleshy animals that were always attempting to jump out of their lace-lined playpens to say, "hi!"

She had high cheekbones and light freckles across her nose and under her eyes and hair that reminded me of Daisy Duke from my favorite TV show. She had gorgeous green eyes that glowed. no kidding. they glowed an emerald green like Bruce Banner’s eyes did when they would both get angry. The only difference was that Bruce would turn into the INCREDIBLE HULK and Mrs. Morgan would turn me into the principal's office.



Above and beyond all of these wonderful traits that made Mrs. Morgan the greatest dream in all the world, was her coffee breath and the smell of freshly smoked cigarettes that would permeate off of her clothing when she went to come back from the Teachers Lounge. I was so infatuated with this teacher of mine that I would purposely get in trouble so I could stay in from recess to look down the unaware Mrs. Morgan's blouse at her giant breasts, just her and I. Oblivious to my sexual mischievousness, she would promptly rush to my desk when I'd ask for help and she would lean over to assist me with whatever I was working on. Being the observant little shit I was, I noticed over time that her eyesight wasn't 20/20 and when I would mispronounce a word (on purpose, of course) she would lean in closer to see the small print that was giving me a problem and I could get a great view of her massive sweater puppies smashing down against the top of my desk. I inconspicuously pressed my adolescent erection up from the bottom of the desk in the direction of her fleshy pumpkins of love. I remember back, just how obviously stupid I must have seemed to her because I needed her to help every three words as I would squirm in my seat, harder than woodpecker lips! I have no idea how I controlled myself from springing into action and not copping a grope. I'll tell you that it was total torture but I loved it so much that I was always trying to think of new creative ways to get in trouble that would land me inside the classroom during recess while the kids would play outside, screaming and having a great time. And yes, I would be inside having a special one on one recess of my own in the company of my babe for a teacher, irritating the hell out of her as she would softly let out a sigh of frustration each time I would summon her back to my little one-piece desk chair combo. Back and forth like a runway model, strutting her stuff from the teacher's desk to my desk, back and forth. My eyes undressing her every step that she took as her ass swished side to side with her every stride. Everything about her sent my perverted childhood fantasies into overdrive, commanding my no longer sleepy-eyed 5th-grade pecker, to stand at attention like a valiant little knight serving his Queen. 



Towards the end of the school year, my mother announced that she was going to enroll me in summer camp at the school. Not too long after that, both Janice and Tina told me that they would be going to Camp there also. I couldn't wait for the summer to come.

Sometime around the middle of May as we were eating lunch outside together, I overheard a very interesting conversation between Tina and Janice. at first, I couldn't make out what they were whispering about but by the way, they were giggling in a secret snickering type tone, I could tell that this was something I needed to hear. I quietly snuck up, inconspicuously behind them to get an earful of their private conversation. I couldn't believe my ears! with a great big smile across her face, Tina excitedly was explaining to Janice how much she loves guys with big hairy dicks and that she thought it was a big turn-on when boys have hairy chests. I looked down my shirt at my hairless boy chest but before I could become depressed, a light bulb lit up in my mischievous little brain. This small bit of naughty reconnaissance that I had collected was invaluable and I knew exactly how I would use it to my advantage as soon as summer camp started.



Just before the end of the school year, I remember one specific morning that I had plotted to get into a ton of trouble and would definitely land me inside during recess for the rest of the year. The plan was to get my hands on every thumbtack that I could find while the kids were out at recess. I would place the thumbtacks in all of their chairs so when everyone came running into the classroom and sat down... they got a big surprise. Yeah, it was pretty mean. No, it was downright evil but my plan seemed like a fail-proof way to be punished spending the rest of my school year recesses, staring at Mrs. Morgan's giant tits until summer. 



I went to school that morning, as always. Of course, Mrs. Morgan was there sipping her coffee at her desk but something was different about her. She seemed grumpy and irritable which was perfect timing to implement my plan. I made a wisecrack during one of our lessons, earning the laughter of my classmates and as planned, Mrs. Morgan told me that I needed to stay in for recess again. During recess, when Mrs. Morgan went to go the smoking Lounge, I pulled out a little empty Matchbox where I collected as many thumbtacks that I could find throughout the day. With ninja-like speed and agility, I zipped around the room, placing the thumbtacks in every chair at every desk where the kids sat. Just as I finished placing the final little silver tack in its last seat, the classroom door opened and Miss is Morgan came in to take a look and see what kind of progress I had made on the math dittos she had given me. I hated math but there was a picture of a scarecrow and three crows, decorating the math ditto page that I took the liberty of drawing KISS makeup on the crows and the Scarecrow, making Gene Simmons the Scarecrow because he was my favorite.

My sexy teacher looked rather perturbed with me as she held up the page examining my lovely rock-and-roll artwork and shaking her head in disgust. “KISS? Really?” She asked with a smirk, handing me back the graffitied page. I asked her if she had a problem with kiss and she said something about Air Supply being a far better group to listen to. How disappointing. She just wasn't aware of how bad ass KISS was! Being totally loyal to my heros, it was my duty as a huge fan of kiss and being a proud, card holding member of the kiss Army, to bring in my KISS Destroyer record for show and tell that next Friday and I would play it for the class to seduce each and every person within earshot, into becoming kiss fans as well. I was rather experienced at making KISS fans out of the least suspecting people and the process was totally fool proof. I would put KISS Destroyer onto the record player side one and go directly to God of Thunder. I would bob my head up and down in a head-banging motion and attempt to get anybody, paying any sort of attention, to join me in the head banging festivities.

This process actually worked with my grandparents and shocked my mother when she came in to see her mother and father bobbing their heads up and down to God of Thunder as me and Gene Simmons growled his lyrics, “god of thunder and rock-and-roll, that spell you're under we're going to rob you of your virgin soul!” By dinner time that next Friday night, I was convinced that Mrs. Morgan would be burning her air supply records and rushing out to peaches records to buy up all the kiss catalog.

When the kids came running in, all of them jumped into the seats and started screaming in pain. Some of them cried, and Mrs. Morgan was so mad, her face now a deep beet red, she looked like her head was about to launch off of her beautiful pale neck like a spaceship in my favorite video game, Defender.

It couldn't have been more obvious the offender was because as much as I tried, I couldn't hold back the giant smile as the fireworks exploded in full force, kids leaping out of their chairs like Mexican jumping beans, making so many unexpected screeches, hollers and noises to express the pain and surprise when they each became pin cushion accessories to my perverted plot. I do recognize now as an adult, how absolutely twisted I was for actually following though with my plan, but even more so, the lack of compassion and empathy I had for the suffering of my poor classmates. All in the name of tits. Well, not just any tits…

The principal stormed into the classroom and escorted me out to the hallway. My mother was called and I was sent home for the day, where I was properly introduced to the business end of a rubber fly swatter for my self-serving, dastardly deed.

With a blistered little ass and the glow of optimism, unbridled excitement painted the air around me the following day. It was officially the beginning of the end of the school year with my goddess of academia, Mrs. Morgan- except Mrs. Morgan wasn't sitting behind her desk.

Now occupying the special throne that used to cradle the beloved round cheeks of Mrs. Morgan's Playboy looking posterior, was the ass some man who looked like a gym teacher. I don't recall the substitute teachers name, but he announced to the class that he was taking Mrs. Morgan's place for the rest of the year. He looked directly at me, asking if I was Stuart Conway. How the fuck does this guy know my name?! I've never seen him before today, but he knows who I am?! I confirmed my identity with a nod of my head and he loudly announced (like a dick) that I would have to stay in, for recess, for the rest of the year, to pay for what I had done to my fellow classmates yesterday. 



ok. Let me get this straight..
No more Mrs. Morgan? What the fuck?? This douche bag of a teacher guy also added that I would have to write a sentence 10,000 times in a row and if I happen to get it done by the time the school year was over, then maybe I could go to recess. What a prick! I still remember the sentence that he made me write, as if it were yesterday. “ I will not create chaos in the classroom.” To make matters worse, this asshole that replaced Mrs. Morgan, sent a note home to my parents telling them that he is extending my homework to include my brand new writing project, and as diligent as my parents were at being sure that I stayed up on all my studies, I found myself sitting in my room writing the sentence over and over again.. I will not create chaos in the classroom.. I will not create chaos in the classroom.. I will not create chaos in the classroom. My hand ached something awful the following day. There was no way that my punishment was an equal exchange of pain for what I had dished out to all of the fleshy pink asses in class. it felt like my hand was going to fall off.

My best friend in class, Joey, pulled me to the side a few days later and informed me that there was a great way of getting through my writing assignment quicker by seeing each word as a single row and simply writing each word all the way down to the bottom of the page, going to the next word of the sentence and so on. Mr. Douchebag caught me doing this and ripped up the fourteen or fifteen pages that I had already completed and told me that I have to write the sentence verbatim or else it doesn't count. By the end of the school year, I'd finished my 10,000 sentence punishment which took up approximately 154 pages of notebook paper. They say that an education lasts a lifetime. I can't argue that fact, considering at the age of 50, I can still see and feel the dent in my middle finger made by the number two pencil I used, writing "I will not create chaos in the classroom", 10,000 fucking times.



Fast forwarding to summertime, panic kicked in that Sunday after church when I realized that the first day of camp started the next day and I had to implement my plan to deflower myself with Janice and Tina.

Here's how the plan went:

FACT. I knew that we would be going to Queeny Park every day to swim and being on the Green Trails swim team, I was very familiar with the layout of Queeny Park's locker room. I knew that the Stalls in the bathroom were very private and roomy enough for me to put together my sexual plot in complete privacy. Tina's words, still ringing in my ears as clearly as if she seductively respoke them to me, right then and there where I stood in my bedroom, peeling open the two new packs of KISS bubblegum cards that I had just bought at the 7~11 down the street from our house. " I love BIG hairy dicks and hairy chests, on boys".

Submerged in thought, I chewed away at the brittle, shitty tasting, wafer thin rectangular shaped piece of gum, with a loud smacking sound.

How could a kid in 5th grade... grow a big hairy dick overnight and sprout a hairy chest, so that he could lose his virginity at Queeny Park to Janet and Tina?

My ticker ticked away and the gum softened but still tasted like a piece of cardboard that was being stored in Peter Criss's ass crack.. Wasn't he a plumber or something before he was the drummer of KISS?, I pondered away as my thoughts began to wonder out of bounds as my ADHD began to take over. Okay! I got it! The answer was obvious and how stupid of me not immediately see it, so blatantly staring back at me like a giant glowing hairy schlong above my head, where the proverbial light bulb should have been!

I snuck downstairs into the kitchen and grabbed a kielbasa from my mother's meat drawer in the refrigerator, grabbed the Elmer's glue out of the desk drawer and my gorilla mask in my bedroom that I had worn the previous year for Halloween and a pair of my mother's good scissors. I raced upstairs to my bedroom, slamming the door shut and started snipping away at the long strands of faux monkey fur, carefully placing the pieces in a zip-lock bag with the Elmer's glue and the cock shaped kielbasa. I hid the baggie underneath my bed until the next morning.

I could hardly sleep that night, tossing and turning, slipping in and out of mini dreams about how great it will be when I lose my virginity to these two beautiful girls at Queeny Park. My most memorable of the dreams was reminiscent of a hair band music video. I was wearing nothing but Gene Simmons's thigh high dragon boots and looking down at my privates, there was nothing adolescent at all, about the pornstar periscope, extending itself at full salute, to see the pretty sites around me.

LAND HO!!
On one side of me was Janice and the other side, Tina, but then, feeling something warm and smooth pressing up against my back, forced me to turn around, revealing a bikini clad, baby oil covered and devilishly grinning Mrs. Morgan, who helped herself into the normally piss filled kiddie pool, now a foggy hot tub at night, so perfectly lit with a colorful glow of rock n roll stage lighting, setting the mood of my dream. I really think it was the dream that reinforced my nerve to follow through with my well planned adventure the following day. And this is how it all went down...



Maestro, Snare drum in a soft marching cadence, please!



The next morning, my mother didn't even have to come in to wake me up. I was already wide awake, packed my backpack with the Implements of Destruction that I had gathered the evening before, as I was waiting by the car, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, like a little squirrel on the trail to finding the mother of all nuts.



My mom fired up our blue Oldsmobile station wagon and we were off!

I was beside myself in excitement as I was dropped off at school where a passenger van filled with kids was waiting for me. I hopped in and we were off to the park to go swimming. I shoved my way to the very back of the van so it was hard for Tina or Janice to make eye contact with me, as I fidgeted in a ball of 5th grade nerves and thoughts. The 30 minute ride felt like an eternity and as soon as we pulled up to the walkway entrance, I grabbed my bag and made a mad dash to the locker room and immediately took up the furthest of the stalls, as planned in the step-by-step directions I devised the previous evening.

Taking a deep breath, looking at myself in the large mirror in the bathroom stall, my plan ran through my head like a mantra on repeat.

First, put on the speedos.

Next, take the Elmers glue and cover my pubic region generously.

Now, with artistic style and precision, stick the monkey hair on my glue slathered hairless crotch.

Last step! stick kielbasa in the front of the Speedos and pull up, ever so carefully, to not reveal the source of the giant bulge now staring back at me in the Lockerroom mirror. It looked perfect, or so I thought. I stared with detail oriented intensity, examining myself up and down. Yes, of course it looks a little funny... but this must be how any 5th grader would look packing a seven and a half inch piece of meat and perfectly straight faux gorilla fur sticking out of their Speedos, right? I continued to examine. Was the dick too big? I turned my body from side to side, squinting my eyes to see if my perspective would change. It was impossible to hide the kielbasa behind my Star Spangled Banner red white and blue Speedos which clung to my little body tightly. I tore about two inches of the meat off and flushed it down the toilet, settling for a very robust 6 inches, reassuring myself that I looked like a stud. Oh shit! I noticed that I was missing something important!! No chest hair! I smeared the glue all over my undeveloped pectoral muscles and clumped on the gorilla fur perfectly between my nipples like a giant tuft of manly tit fluff, just waiting to impress the hell out of these two girls.

My Moment Of Glory was here and god dammit if Stuart Conway wasn't about to get laid for the first time EVER! I gave myself a 20th glance as I walked carefully through the locker room, looking in each mirror passing by, eyeballing the massive bulge that so obviously stood out in the protruding black nest of gorilla mask fur from my once innocent, star spangled speedos.

The temperature outside was approximately 100 degrees and the swimming pool was packed with kids and adults sunbathing, splashing around, diving off diving boards and the sounds of lifeguards stationed on every corner of the pool, blowing their whistles at kids who were either running too fastl or doing something they shouldn't have been doing. I did my best to stay not obvious and stopped myself from running to where Janis and Tina were located in the shallow end. I rushed up in front of them, at the edge of the smooth concrete pool, sporting a giant smile on my face, as confident as a peacock. I boisterously announced my arrival to the two girls who stood wading in the waist deep water. As I spoke, I thrust my little hips into the air, showing off my massive penile protrusion and black fur rug that stuck out of my Speedos like I had Don King in a leglock, between my legs. My announcement was something like, “Helloooo, ladies- I'm here for your every pleasure, so feel free to use me as much as you wish as your very own personal sex god.” Janis quit speaking mid sentence and just stared speechless at my giant hairy monster, holstered in my speedos like a patriotic package, glancing back at Tina whose eyes bugged out of her face in total disbelief.

They both seemed to be frozen in place, basking in my manly irresistibly, their mouths were both agape in shock.. or... In horror as I held my hands on my hips and made a naughty thrusting circular motion with my pelvis, only a couple of feet away from their obviously hungry mouths. It must be love at first sight! For the first time ever, they were both speechless. "Dr. Love was in... and let the Lovin begin!!" I shouted as I hopped into the pool with a big leap. I landed in the water, right in front of them, face-to-face with their dream boy.

I leaned forward for a kiss, starting with Tina. My eyes closed and lips poised for contact, relishing the glorious moment as the blaringly loud screeching sounds of lifeguard whistles interrupted my perfectly executed swan dive seduction. I opened my eyes and to my complete shock, I noticed that all of the monkey hair from the mask that I had so carefully cut and glued, was floating in the pool along side the kielbasa. Everyone within the vicinity began to scream bloody murder. Moms in a state of panic, pulling their little ones out of the shallow end by us, in total disgust.



The nearest lifeguard stood up on his post pointing at me, yelling for everyone to get out of the pool.. except for me.

"HEY YOU! Did you SHIT in the pool?!" He screamed at top volume.



I shook my head no, horribly mortified and embarrassed as all eyes were on me at Queeny Park swimming pool, staring at me being singled out with a kielbasa and a giant pile of Gorilla mask hair floated in front of me. The silence was overwhelming, as you could have heard a feather land at that terrible moment of time. And the worst part? Losing my virginity after all that work was an impossibility and it was most obvious when Janice leaned over to me on the way home in the passenger van as she softly whispered in my ear, "maybe we should forget that this happened".



To this day, I've never used the expression, "slipping you the sausage" after that sorry sorry day at Queeny Park.

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