some delitefully nostalgic pix came my way, that i just had to share.
don't like to get tooo specifica about my personal history, but i spent some of my formative years in europe. i am sooo continental, hahaha!
grew up on french/italian/german vogue. if you were wondering where my style comes from. that which isn't intrinsic dahlings.
even then i was the twisted little girl who liked to tear down and oil military grade automatic weaponary, tie up g.i. joe dolls in sailor knots before strangling them with armature wire, and other fun stuff.
les fotos here, whilst not me (i was much more the long legged teen than this, nevertheless, cutie) brought me back to a summer in normandie. even then i was a nascent lezzie...ooozing fantasies about the franciase jeune filles i'd see about the small towns and countryside. homemade dildoes joined my military weapons tear down manuals, and decapitated g.i. joe dolls, as young, sexually awakening playtime materiel.
imagine my sheeer delite as a burgeoning hot, sexually misunderstood pube teen coming upon the remains of some of the world war deux gun emplacements along the french coast!
sooo many young coming-of-age girls take to horseback riding as their surrogatia for the male of the species. a big steeeeming animal you can control, between your booted legs...longgg rides where your riding pants become oh so moist in the most embarrassing place!
after riding large caliber nazi artillery as a superheated randy pubescent honey, could i ever consider a male's dinky piece of flesh?
i had a few summers like that. but coming (pun) across the gun emplacements on the normandy coast was much more instructive for my future sensualite than riding a gelding.
was this the reason i came to associate the grandest sexual thrill with killing the phallic member of the human species? ohhh, there are so many reasons that happened, i can't go into it all here. but i'm sure large caliber german armour played a delicious part.
i'd often wait until sunset, when it would be deserted. i could then do as the lovely sweetie here...undress, and climb aboard a real weapon. is it any wonder i prefer women? after riding large caliber nazi artillery as a superheated randy pubescent honey, could i ever consider a male's dinky piece of flesh?
the few men i ever tried did equal the big guns of the third reich in one way. emotionally they were as cold as the german steel. and just as rusted.
getting off target (gun pun).
i've things to do. including finish my little hit recollection for you. but do enjoy these pix, which so fondly took me back to my sweet tender youth.
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