As a young boy of about 11 years old I loved ladies legs. At this tender young age I really got excited seeing ladies legs. I really liked calves and thighs and althought I would get excited to see them in person or in movies and television I was too young to understand the connection between enjoying legs and masturbation. I didn't know what sex was yet, but I did know that I like women's legs. I was so engrossed with legs that as I would find them in movies, televison and books, I would count the number pairs of legs and keep a running track. I'm am not sure why, I did this, I just remember doing it and keeping it a secret.

Then one day I learned that if I layed on my stomach and rubed my pee pee back and forth against the cool sheets and thought of women's legs that it would feel very very good, but every timne I did it, sure enough I had to get up and go to the bathroom. I would stand there trying to go wee and nothing. Dang. Then I would start over again and the same thing happend each time. Naturaly this became fustrating but the feeling was so good it was worth having to get up each time and go to the toilet.

Then one day while my parents were gone I was in my father's garage and found his stash of pornography. Which included: 1) a nudist booklet with lots of pictures 2) a men's magazine featuring ladies in silk stockings, garders and high heels 3) some real photographs of toppless women and 4) a black and white illustrated booklet to order various dildos (I had no clue what that was all about).

 As I discovered my fathers stash my heart began to beat real fast and I was a bit shakey. I knew that I had hit the motherload but I dare not take it inside wiith me for fear of my parents suddenly coming home and not being albe to return the mags for days. What if my father when looking for them, would he supect his son had stolen them?

I flipped through the pages of both magazines as my heart raced with each new picture. There it was, not only ladies legs for me to feast my eyes on, but there bare bosoms for me to explore. Most of the ladies had average to small boobs but the one that caught my attention was this short haired sandy blond lady who was standing outside completly nude with the biggest boobs of all the ladies in the nudist magazine.

At the time I didn't know about cup sizes but thinking about it now she must have had double D or better and they were perky and full. Well that did it, I unbuckled my pants and went over to a faux leather couch that was in the garage and started to rub my dick from side to side enjoying every page. Dang! I had to go to the bathroom again, but instead of going I ignored it and kept rubbing my little chubby back and forth until I shot my first little  load all over the couch. It felt so good! But, then I had a mixed feelings of dread, excitment and panic. Was that supposed to happen? Was there something wrong with me? What was that white stuff? Was it a sin? When could I do it again, was mostly on my mind; that and finding something to clean my self up with and get my fathers stuff back where I found them.

After that day, masturbation became my best friend and my greatest secret fear. I dare not talk about it to anyone. But now I was hooked on big boobs. I became a boob man, well a boob obsessed young boy that still enjoyed a nice pair of legs.

My father passsed away many years ago but I still have that magazine and the nudist booklet, somewhere in my own stash.