The past never goes away

I have told three people about my fetish in real life. The first was a girlfriend in high school. I was a a geeky sophomore; she was a well-endowed freshman. Young love and crushes are awkward enough but for some reason I played the "what turns you on" game over the phone with her. She said the usual stuff -- romantic music, candlelight, soft touches. For some reason when it was my turn, I didn't chicken out. I told her the truth.

She had a sense of humor (or else I wouldn't have been dating her) and she teased me about it a little bit later, but our relationship was very chaste and no urges were ever acted upon. I also played the villain, initiating an abrupt breakup. No more about my unusual turn-on was ever discussed.

This was 20 years ago. We've remained friends as adults and we play Scrabulous on Facebook. We're both happily married and she's thrilled to have several kids. But I realized that we'd hit the anniversary for the dumping, so I sheepishly apologized again. She said I'm forgiven but the fact that I'm still apologizing must count for something -- "Power to the boobies! Long live HC!"

HC? I asked what it stood for. Apparently I'd articulated a nickname for her -- "HC" for "helium chest" -- back in the day.

All these years, I thought she had forgotten -- we'd had plenty of discussions about all kinds of other things since, but my deviant desires never came up. And besides, it sounds so silly...maybe she played it off as a joke?

I trust her with this secret. This ain't going nowhere; this is not e-flirting. We are both happy where and with whom we are today. I have since learned that this is part of who I am, but I do not feel the need to make everybody aware of that part.

But I sure was surprised to realize that she's still got blackmail on me after all these years. :)