He stopped short of buying me a toy gun, though. I had to save up my allowance for almost three months to buy my own gun.Daddy kept buying me dolls and stuffed toys and other girlie things for my birthday and Christmas. I put some of them on the shelves in my room and the rest I smuggled to school and sold to my girlfriends. He also kept buying me dresses and girlie clothes. I made a habit of wearing them to soccer practice. It only took him about a season and a half to surrender and start buying me boy's jeans. By the time second grade came, I only owned two dresses. One of them was a long black one with long sleeves and a high collar that I wore to Uncle Saul's funeral and Christmas Mass. The other dress was a light blue dress that stopped at my knees. It was frilly, lacey, and I hated it. I only wore it to Easter Mass once before I hit my growth spurt. Thank God for hormones! When Easter came around in 1982, the damned thing was too tight and I got to throw it away.I really think. With a loud plop and fart that brought another groan of embarrassment he pulled his fingers from my clinging asshole. Smearing Vaseline on the length of the rod sleeve and began to insert the long makeshift dildo up my cringing small pink butt hole.As the fishing rod sleeve sunk deep into the gunk of my butt hole, I almost lost control and spunked right there on the spot. I still strained and struggled to expel the wide rippled rubber dildo and free myself from this humiliation.Beads of sweat broke across my brow as I fought to endure the pounding as Ma’am’s brute strength threatened to split me wide open. My anal instructor and her massive strap on dildo, at least that was how if felt. However, the truth was somewhere in the middle. She took joy from the look of agony on my face as she began to roughly remove the rubber dildo from my barely bleeding asshole.The pressure of the air reluctantly into my bottom hole caused gas bubbles. With a cry of anguish and strange euphoria came.
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