Where does the journey start?  Like any teenage boy I was overwhelmed by sexual desires.  Suddenly girls aren't just girls, they are legs, boobs, asses, moving living breathing sexual beings.  Suddenly your cock stiffens at the slightest provocation, it takes on a life of its own, you have no control over it, it controls you.

A glimpse of thigh on a bus and hey presto, a girl in a bikini at the local pool, some dancers on Top of the Pops and there you go, a picture in a magazine, the neighbours elder daughter out of reach and out of touch, your friends sister - anything she may have touched or worn, you are no lopnger a free being your cock hungry, rampant and out of control and in control.

 I was fortunate growing up.  To one side our neighbours were a young couple, to the other a greek cypriot family - at a guess early 40s.  The female half of the young couple liked to sunbathe in a bikini, always seemed to be white.  Her protected garden, the fences were nicely high, meant she had suitable privacy.  No prying eyes.  Except for my single bed room, where I slept and looked alone.  Door closed, binoculars borrowed, cock in hand, taking in every inch of her body, wanking as she lay face down, or eyes closed face up.  Even now my cock quivers at the thought of her.

The female half of the greek cypriopt couple afforded me less blatant opporrtunity.   But when it came it came!  A few times, early morning glimpses from our garden, of her still dressed in a shortish see thru nightie, I remember the outline of those white panties still.  Or entertaining friends on the back patio, shotish skirts, high heels, ample leg and thigh, and watching on, cock in hand, from my bedroom a young voyeur learning the starting steps of a life journey.