Mostly True Bullshit (semi-autobiographical)

[EddieDavidson]

I have for years thought a good ENF story would be based on my many odd encounters as a shy kid growing up in the 1980s. Tits were all around me back then. Women used to wear no bra and these wonderful green tube tops that showed off their oddly shaped natural tits.

The problem with many of my stories was that I often did the dumbest things and did not take the opportunities that presented themselves. I was shy, naive and wet behind the ear. I was too smart for my own good.

One summer, I spent in Georgia with my cousins. If you remember Delta Burke from the show Designing women - picture the big brunette hair, chesty but short and fresh faced teenage cousin that chews gum and talks with a sweet southern georgia accent. She used to win local beauty pageants.

First thing I did when I got there was go skinny dipping with her and my other cousins. "Go ahead and look, get it out of your system, you perv."
She joked. She put her knee to my crotch while we were swimming and demanded that I date her friend. I didn't realize at the time that her friend was a basket case with more pimples than common sense. I was exposed to racism first hand and I was (and still am) embarrassed to say it came from my own family.

I didn't know enough about the world to really process it when I was there. Deep south Georgia was just different than where I came from. Where I came from, it was 50% or more hispanic and some of the coolest guys were hispanic and the hottest girls. I had three black people in my high school. One was a valedictorian, one was a football player and the other was a hilarious rapper who told a joke that I still remember to this day.

"Your momma so fat, takes one parachute for her to make a pair of parachute pants!"

Which hit a lot harder back when people knew what those were.

I've channeled my experiences in many of my stories but I have never really sat down and wrote what happened because of incidents like the racism and the missed opportunities from being a shy dipshit with literally no game. I was lucky I was handsome when I grew up, because I had no idea how to flirt with women.

My life had been a little like a porky's movie. I remember going to a campground in the 1980s that had a screen over the shower area. You could throw a rock and walk slowly past and see these big titty 80's women showering with big bushy pubes, soaping up in the shower. I nearly got my ass kicked by boyfriends/husbands/dads but It was a fun thrill to see who was in the shower.

The problem with that story is it ends there. I saw some tits, got in trouble, ran off before I could get my ass kicked, and the end.

So, I am truncating some of the characters to make the story easier to follow, and embellishing here and there. I'll see how it goes as I write it. That's why I am calling it "Mostly true bullshit".

Sometimes I start with an outline, but other times I begin with a premise and write by the seat of my pants. The pants stories are the hardest to end because it just keeps going and going and going. I may make this a vignette sort of thing and jump around a bit. We'll see as I proceed.

I do finish my stories, and I plan to finish a lot of the older ones. However, usually on SOL, not here.

[EddieDavidson]

No shit, there I was, stuck on sunny, mosquito infested Marco Island for the summer at my cousin's house. Nothing to do and all damn day to do it. Back in the eighties the whole island amounted to a stretch of beach, a Winn Dixie, a sub shop, a marina, and a couple of tiki bars, and not one bit of it interested me. I was stuck at my Uncle Dennis's house with my cousins until their parents came home.

It had been raining off and on all afternoon. I was on the floor of my cousin Alan's bedroom watching his Betamax for what had to be the tenth time that week, because Alan owned exactly one tape. Pendragon. No cable either. I can still recite most of the lines from that movie, but I’d probably never watch it again.

Alan did have a nineteen inch color set, which back then was the size of a small refrigerator, so I guess that counted for something. Alan had just turned twenty one, and his parents had rewarded that achievement by giving him the biggest bedroom in the house, bigger than the one both his sisters shared between them. He kept it dark and messy and stuffed with every piece of Star Wars merchandise Kenner ever shipped. Door always open. We weren’t really talking. We never really talked.

Alan was a rough and tumble kind of kid, that liked the outdoors and I was an only child that liked my peace and quiet.

We perked up when we heard the stereo crank up in Kim and Denise’s room. Ray Stevens delivered his iconic line from the Streak "DON'T LOOK ETHEL!".

That song was old even in the 1980s, but it still made us laugh.

“Oh yes, they call him the streak. Boogity boogity. He likes to turn the other cheek. Boogity boogity. He's always makin' the news, wearin' just his tennis shoes!”

My cousins were across the hall in the bedroom the girls shared. I heard Kim first.

"Do the dance, Denise. C'mon, boogity boogity."

"No. Don't make me."

"I don't make monkeys, I just train 'em. Now do the streak. It's funny."

"I can't, Eddie's here. What if he walks in and sees us?"

"Then he sees your big ol' butt going boogity boogity."


“Shut the door, and I’ll do it!”


“No, it’s hot as fuck in here, so what if they see? You are the streak,” Kim laughed dismissively and sang “ If there's an audience to be found, He'll be streakin' around, Invitin' public critique! Oh yes, they call him the streak!”

“That’s HE, I am not a He!”

“You sure about that? Look at that little worm between your legs!” Kim cackled “Oh, yes, they call her the streak, Boogity, Boogity! Her butt is big and round! Her poop comes out big and brown!”

“Stop it, It does not,” Denise crowed.

Kim was the type of girl that Willy Wonka made sure got a Golden Ticket, just so the Oompa Loompas that work for him could sing a little song of their own, and boil her in her own bologna.

Alan was already up, grinning from ear and making his way toward their room, and I followed him. I was kind of shocked that he didn’t knock but their door was wide open.

Kim wore a yellow high waisted bikini, that was French cut to show off her thighs. She was short, and only a few months younger than me, but she always acted like she had more on the ball than I did.

Her auburn hair was teased out in a curly classic 1980s big hair-do. She had big droopy tits that hung down and a bigger ass. She wore a sarcastic, bemused smirk as she watched us walk in uninvited.

Her little sister Denise was a year younger and the only thing they had in common was their mousey features, and big asses. Denise was only a year younger than her, and she was usually quiet, and frequently grinned impishly for no reason. She didn’t strike me as being very bright.

Fart jokes were king at my Uncle Dennis’s house, and the girls found them hysterical.

Denise wore her hair short, in the iconic 70’s wedge cut made famous by Dorothy Hamill. She had her sister (and mom’s) big butt, and curvy figure but she had almost no boobs at all. I’d grown up with her and knew her all my life, but I’d rarely spoken to her because we simply had nothing in common.

“Do the Streaker dance, Denise! C’mon, Boogity Boogity!”

“No, don’t make me!”

“I don’t make monkeys, I just train them, now c’mon, do the Streak! It’s funny!”

“I can’t, Eddie is here! What if he walks in here?”

“Then he’ll see your chubby butt, and tiny tits!” Kim snickered.

“They aren’t tiny!” Denise insisted. “Shut the door and I will dance, Kim. I am serious.”

“No way, it’s hot as fuck in here! You are the streak. People are checking out your physique!”

“Stop, Kim! Let me put my clothes on!”

“Her butt is big and round, and her poop is smelly and brown!”

“No, it isn’t!” Denise insisted.

I could picture my cousin Kim shaking her ass to the song and teasing Denise about it. I had to see what was going on. I hustled behind Alan into the room and stopped suddenly because I couldn’t believe what I saw.

“Oh my god, get out of here Alan and Eddie! We are just dancing,” Denise blushed, and slid her hands in front of her pubes, and faced her big milky white butt toward us.

The girls still had Barbie dolls mixed in with all the curling irons, makeup and bras flung over closet doors.

Denise was completely stark naked, barefoot and bare-assed. She blushed and immediately looked down at the floor as shame washed over her.

“You are the streak, Denise! Dance around for us!” Kim teased. She did a double take when I walked right into her room behind Alan.

Alan stopped in the doorway, but Denise didn’t move. That was what hit hardest. She could have turned, could have bolted for the bathroom, could have grabbed a shirt off the bed and covered herself properly. Instead she stayed where she was

She seemed to need Kim’s permission to stop.

“Don’t be shy, Alan has seen your big old butt crack plenty of times!” Kim bobbed her head to the Ray Steven’s song and sang “(Boogity, boogity) he likes to show off his physique! Ethel, you shameless hussy!” she called out.

“The song says HE, Kim. I am not a guy!”

“You could have fooled me with those micro tits and that flapper dangling between your legs!” Kim snickered. “You are the streak! Boogity, boogity!”

“The song is over, Kim! Let me get dressed, please!”

“The show must go on, Denise!” Kim started rewinding the song. “Hands down!”

“C’mon, Guys please don’t look at me!” Denise’s fingers twitched as she held them both tightly over her pussy hair to protect it from our gaze.

“Denise is just afraid you’ll laugh at her fat dumplings, and little titties,” Kim laughed hysterically. It wasn’t a mean laugh, she was having fun.

I wasn’t turned on by Denise, but I have to admit that there was something provocative about the way Denise seemed so vulnerable and stood there shivering and tried to cover herself.

“Your hair pie isn’t that wide, Denise! You could cover your tits with one hand, and your pussy with the other,” Alan offered with amusement.

Denise instantly switched her strategy, like a contestant on jeopardy when they suddenly think they know the answer to a question. She quickly pulled one hand away and used her arm to shield her nipples.

“They can still see your dookie hole, Denise,” Kim chuckled as if Denise hadn’t accomplished much by shifting her arms.

“So? It’s just a butt crack! I don’t care about that. It’s like I am mooning them,” Kim bent forward, and stuck her tongue out as she looked over her shoulder at us.

I noticed the pink of Denise’s pussy lips from behind, as she bent forward and arched an eyebrow because I’d never actually seen a girl pose this way and I can still see it in my head even though it was so many years ago.

“You don’t care they can see the hole you poop from?” Kim scoffed.

Denise second guessed whether she should be embarrassed about it. She quickly decided that she didn’t need modesty when it came to her ass. “It’s just my farty butt! Girls show their butts in thongs at the beach all the time! I’d rather face my butt toward them and cover my boobs and vagina!”

“What boobs?” Alan laughed as he sat on the bed. He was clearly amused enough that he didn’t plan to leave.

“And don’t call it a vagina. Call it a pussy!” Kim added.

Denise’s face turned deep red in contrast to her milky white skin. She scrunched her nose in disgust and said “No, that sounds nasty!”

“It is nasty! It smells like fish!” Alan said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Denise argued.

“Your pussy smells just like Snook that has been laying out all day!”

“It does NOT!” Denise argued.

“Then let him smell it!”

“No! That’s gross!” Denise frowned.

“I have one thing to say to you, Denise Herman!” Kim pressed play on her tape recorder and Ray Steven’s began to talk like a sportscaster about the how a streaker was spotted down at the grocery store. “Hello, everyone, this is your action news reporter,” she said along with the entertainer and Alan joined in. “With all the news that is news across the nation!”

“Why do I have to be the streaker? The song says he is a guy!” Denise insisted they answer, but Kim and Alan just continued repeating the song.

“Pardon me, sir, did you see what happened?” Kim held up a blow dryer to Alan’s face like it was a microphone.

“Ayep, Hurpa-durr, I seen his ding-a-ling, goin-a-jing-aling, and I called out between the mayo and the hair gel, hey look at Martha!!!” Alan crowed in a Hee-Haw style hillbilly voice.

“That’s not how the song goes!” Denise shouted angrily.

“How does it go, Denise?” Kim turned to her with the microphone and sang into it with her sister “Boogity, boogity, There he goes! Boogity, boogity! And he ain't wearin' no clothes!”

Denise had gone from frowning to wiggling her hips, and dancing along to the music with Kim as the two of them sang the chorus.

“Hands behind your head this time so Eddie can see you aren't hiding anything,” Kim commanded, as she held the blow-dryer up to Denise’s face.

Denise rolled her eyes, took her hands away from her body, revealing her bushy pubes, and the most enormous clit I’d ever seen. I genuinely thought Denise might be a boy.

Most of my knowledge of female anatomy came from my Uncle’s Playboy magazines. The airbrush never showed any imperfections, or hang down clits and labia. Tits were always perfectly symmetrical and never lopsided or droopy like theirs.

Denise’s tits were seriously undersized, but in retrospect, I think I got excited by how puffy they were. Compared to Kim, it was like two tangerines to two long, droopy eggplants.

I felt bad about watching, when Denise lifted her arms and placed her hands behind her head while dipping her hips and shaking her ass to the “Boogity Boogity”.

She knew every word by heart, and sang them silently as she danced in a hurky-jerky motion – even while the singer talked. Denise maintained a pained expression on her face like she really didn’t want to be doing this but if she was, then she was going to recite every lyric.

"Look at Eddie, he’s afraid he’s gonna go blind!" Kim teased and nudged me. She turned the blow-dryer back toward Denise to use as a microphone.

My cousin continued bobbing her hips to the 'Boogity Boogity' lyrics. "It's okay, Eddie. She doesn't mind. Denise is a natural-born exhibitionist, she just didn't know it until today. Right, Niecy? You like having an audience for your little routine."

Denise had a dumbfounded expression on her face as if it took effort to recite the lines. She waited until there was a break in the song to stop reciting and shout “Nuh-uh! This isn’t my dance routine.”

“What is your dance routine?”

“Don’t you want me, by that band, the one from England! Spandau Ballet,” Denise floundered a little as she tried to catch up on the lyrics and continue dancing. There were only a few choruses left of the song.

“Nobody wants you, Denise! You are a chubby chipmunk with a farty big butt, and little tits!” Kim stated bluntly. It sounded degrading but strangely Denise began to chuckle even though she looked humiliated.

“I am not, Kim! Stop, you are messing up the song!” Denise said as she shimmied her boobs.

“Don’t you want me is by the Human League,” I corrected Denise.

“What?” Denise frowned at me, angry that I interrupted her concentration.

“The band that sings the song you like. It’s called the Human League.”

“You are such a nerd,” Kim laughed as the song hit the finale. She clicked play.

“Good, I did it. Okay? Now can I get dressed?” Denise released her hands behind her head and without any modesty at all, bent over to pick up her shorts and panties from the pile of dirty clothes on the carpet by the bed.

Alan made a rude farting noise with her voice at the exact moment that Denise bent over. She stood up, covered her ass with both hands, and insisted with fresh pink emerging on her face “That was NOT me!”

“Why are you covering your dookie hole? Were you going to prevent the fart from coming out?” Alan asked.

“Puddin Tain! Ask me again, and I’ll tell you the same,” Denise glowered at her little brother as if that was a coherent answer. It was a response Denise gave a lot when she didn’t have any come back.

Kim snatched the shorts out of Denise’s hand and tossed them up onto the dresser. “Not yet,” she said with a laugh, but with enough certainty in it that Denise froze again. “If you want to get dressed ask Eddie real nice whether you did a good job.”

“Oh C’mon,” Denise squirmed. She didn’t look at me, because she was clearly humiliated. She didn’t wait for Kim to acquiesce and show her mercy. Instead, she asked me like she was fishing for a compliment. “Did I do a good job as a dancer, Eddie?”

Denise slouched, and let her hands drift over her tits and pussy, subconsciously protecting it from my view. I might have been feeling contact embarrassment from my cousin’s blushing, naked experience being exposed and vulnerable.

“Did I do a good job as a dancer, Eddie?” she repeated, in a thin and reedy voice that was desperate for acknowledgement. She sounded like a kid asking if they’d finally gotten a math problem right after being yelled at by the teacher.

I wasn’t sure what I should say. The way Kim and Alan looked at me, I assumed I was supposed to tell her she had done a terrible job.

Denise stood there with her shoulders hunched forward. The posture made her small chest look even more vulnerable. She didn't look me in the eye. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on a stray Barbie brush on the carpet and her unpainted toenails curled into the pile.

I cleared my throat, and felt the heat rise in my face because now I felt I was on the spot. It was impossible to ignore the fact that she was bare-assed and shivering and seemed to need to hear she had done a good job. “Yeah, Denise. You... you kept the rhythm. It was a good job,”

“REALLY?” she was delighted and jumped up and down. Her hips shook, and her ass cheeks clapped together, even though her little tits stayed right where they were.

“You did good,” I shrugged. I wasn’t going to drag things out, and I didn’t want to seem mean or perverted.

“Eddie said I am a good dancer! So, I can get dressed!” Denise pointed her finger at her sister like a wrestler challenging a foe before entering the ring and bent over to grab her clothes.

“Yeah, Eddie liked it,” Kim chirped. “That means you have to keep dancing!”

“No! that’s not fair!” my cousin stood up and dropped her clothes. I was puzzled why Denise didn’t just put her clothes on if she wanted to get dressed. It wasn’t like there was any consequences to refusing.

“Eddie is a guest, and if he wants to see your big fat turtle butt, then you have to dance for him!” Kim said.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t have to do what he tells me!”

“Yes, you do,” Kim insisted.

“Me too,” Alan interjected brightly.

“Absolutely not, you are my LITTLE brother,” Denise insisted while looking at Kim to see if she agreed. Kim was already shaking her head no with a grin. “No, that’s not right! Eddie is older and a guest, but Alan is just my little brother.”