Beach and pondering the term 'Horny'

Pondering Life!
Greetings my sweet little piggies of love!

As you can see, now that Spring is here, I'm pretending it's high Summer. To the right we have a picture of one of my lovely new friends, Rachelle. You may remember I met her through Tam. We went to Piha, ate cake and coffee, talked about life and the Universe, then trekked over the hill to White Beach.

I was there on Friday too, when all the World Cup Rugby shennanigans were going on. I was meant to go galvinating with T and some of her friends, but I couldn't seem to get excited about being part of a pressing crowd ... dare I say, I listened to my Higher Self and it said "stay at the beaaaaaaaach".

So yeah, two days in a row of walking over to White Beach, and of course on Friday there wasn't a soul around, it was just perfect. Was good to take a friend on Saturday though, and fortunately she didn't mind my slow pace. Got to stop and touch trees, admire the sparkling sand, feel nature loving you, giving everything to you with it's energy. Gets me really horny actually.

Horny is a funny word. Obviously it can never be the same after Austin Powers, but it also makes me think of all those Penthouse Forums I read (sneakily) as a child, and how women in the stories always seemed to be standing around with dripping wet pussies and absolutely dying to suck big throbbing cocks. Leaves an impression on a 10 year old mind, and I ended up trying to write my own 'pent house forums' when I was 12. Ahhh, those weren't the days.

I was at Whangamata Area School from the time I was 10 and until I turned 13.

There came a day when Mrs Procter, the horrible Principal of the school, was given a scrap of paper a child found in the bin. It was a little taster of one of my 'forum stories'. I would write them for friends if requested, but on this occasion I'd written a rather intense B & D lesbian scene between two girls who were sometimes really bitchy to me. In guilt, I'd thrown the paper away, but when Mrs Procter walked in waving the offending scrap in the air, I was freaked out.

She went on and on and on. Someone in here must have written this DISGUSTING thing, and they have a PERVERTED, NASTY LITTLE MIND! Shit. Guilty guilty guilty. Most of my classmates knew it was me. Everyone kept quiet. Then strangely, after Mrs Fuck Face Procter left the room, I put up my hand.

"Mr Vaughn?"

"Yes Candy?"

"Um, ah, it was me who wrote that thing. Sorry."

"Ok then," he said, not looking at all shocked, "you'd better go and see Mrs Procter".

Side note: a Proctologist is someone who studies problems to do with the anus aren't they? So Mrs Procter was aptly named. She had a face like a puckered up bum hole.

Damnit. Mrs Bum Hole was nasty. She screwed up her wrinkled, mean face even more than usual and pronounced me a dirty, nasty, horrible little girl. She said she should give me the strap but wouldn't because of my Nanna. Oh yeah, my Nanna was a primary school teacher at the same school.

I looked at her calmly.

"Mrs Procter, I think you should treat me like anyone else. If you think I should have the strap, then I should have the strap" (You have to love the 80's!).

"Oh," she sneered (yes, SNEERED), "we do think we're CLEVER don't we? Well I'll be keeping a close eye on you ... !" She reminded me that I was filthy and disgusting.

All it did was make me angry. I felt a little bad about being caught for writing something so silly, but surely anyone could see it was just an invention, nothing to do with my own actual sexuality. I wasn't interested in B & D (well, not majorly). I didn't want to suck a giant cock. I was 12. I wanted to hold hands with a boy I liked. I wanted to be kissed. The stories were just funny.

It's true that I was already an avid wanker by the time I was 12, and I thought sex was really interesting, but funnily enough I ended up inflicting Christianity on myself by the time I was 14. Aint Guilt grand?

As a result, I was an incredibly late starter in many ways, but I was also saved from other extremes. I know if I'd followed my naughtier instincts I'd have chosen a pathway laden with drugs and sex. Instead, my sexuality grew in the repressed realms of Church. Jesus was always coming!

I digress. I was speaking of nature, and although we usually refer to Nature as a She, I feel like Nature was He in the last two days for me. the hard, glistening rocks I scrambled across to reach the stretch of sand, the feeling of cold waves on bare breasts on Friday. It was Nature as my boyfriend. And I love him.

Picture: White Beach, over from Piha.