I was small for my age,painfully thin and with soft, pretty some people said, features and,though I did play sports I was only good at tennis and runn...ng. I wasextremely good at school, especially history and languages. I was quietand withdrawn, having few real friends and those of a similar nature tome. I was, as one of my more execrable acquaintances said, a selfsatisfied, prize prig. He was, of course, right. But my mother, and myfriends, found me acceptable. But where was I different. I. And that level of tingles had been with me since Saturdaynight when Brad told me to slip on Carol's panties. The simple act ofsliding them up my almost-hairless legs had set me on a tingle journeythat hasn't stopped, because I had been wearing lingerie almost everysecond ever since. So I understood tingles. I was having them all thetime now.But, I reasoned, when my tingles go absolutely ape-shit ballistic, so farit has only been when I'm around a masculine man, who lusts for my kind. I couldn’t help but say things like “I’m sure the boys are lining up down the block to be with you,” and she would take it as a brotherly nice thing to say. Meanwhile my hand would be on my cock out of the screen. When classes came to an end, I was thrilled to be heading back home, even though I knew I could never do anything but fantasize.After a couple weeks, however, I found ways I could act out and tease around with my fantasy in a relatively safe way. Her bedroom was right by mine and in. .." Mattie said surprising me a little with her candor, though by now we'd arrived in the kitchen area where Myra was just finishing up with the prepared salad she'd created, saving me an awkward response."So, Mattie ... like I said, he certainly doesn't look like any sort of serial killer, or a rapist now does he?"I was a little taken aback by that, though I shouldn't have been too surprised by her comment either. I'm sure they'd had a pretty lively discussion once Myra had informed her by.