Sinful Sunday 460 – Grown-up

Back at the family home, alone, for the first time in many, many years. This is where I grew up.

It’s odd being back now. It’s odd being here alone. Somehow there is still a sense of having to behave. As if a grown-up might walk in at any moment and reprimand. That will not happen now, but there still feels an obligation to be respectful.

Sometimes, when I misbehave, I have to remind myself that I am a grown up. I am this grown up. And I am entitled to be who I am. I have a right to be sexual, and that is not misbehaviour.

When I lived here, being sexual felt like misbehaviour. There was never overt disapproval of sex – there just wasn’t ever any mention of it. Ever. Had my parents known about my teenage stash of porn mags, or my twice daily wank habit, it’s hard to think how they would have reacted, if indeed anything would have been said at all. But it most certainly would have met with disapproval.

Now, here alone, there is no one to disapprove. I am the only grown-up here.

This wallpaper dates from before I had grown up. I had discovered masturbation, porn and had an embryonic interest in fetishism years before (though I had no such label for it at the time), but I was still more interested in planes then pussy. Despite having left home more than 20yrs ago, like most of the house, this room has never been redecorated. I’d estimate I wanked over more than 100 porn mags and came between five and six thousand times in this room. All alone. I did a lot of growing up here.

Now I’m back. Not much has changed. So much has changed.