My Time
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2019 by AJ Martin

Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - It's interesting the things you find out about yourself as time passes. It can also be just as interesting finding out what you can do when you put your mind to it.

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction  

I think I was in Kindergarten when I first realized I could float.

Or at least that’s when my almost 6 year old brain realized what I could do and I worked out a name for what it was I realized I was able to do. I remember I almost called it “Jumping” but even at that early age, I quickly just knew what I could do was way more than just that; Jumping. But for simplicity I always affectionally kept thinking of my skill as “Floating.”

Looking back on it all after all these years, I have to admit, it’s been a lot of fun, floating, that is, whenever it struck my fancy. As time went ever onward, I continued to develop my craft and teased the limits of my seemingly singular innate ability.

Although I did quickly learn I could get myself into a lot of trouble when I floated. I actually learned that lesson the first time I actually did it. I smile whenever I think of that first time and how naughty my thoughts had been.


Our Kindergarten classroom was built for little people. You know, 5 and 6 year olds, they’re tiny people. Kid sized miniture desks and like-sized chairs filled the classroom. I remember thinking “How nice!!!” when I’d visited the classroom the first time a week or so before my Formal Schooling began.

Things like the blackboards were installed low toward the ground, within the typical tiny people’s reach. The bathrooms were almost communial. For easy access when necessary and situated pretty much behind the teacher’s desk, there was no restrictive door on the portal to the toilet and sink area. The bathroom had six toilets, three on each side of a central short wall, perhaps about 5 feet high. Each toilet area was partially cordoned off with an “L” shaped enclosure but also without a door.

The lack of privacy never bothered me nor any of the other children in my class. After all, we were children and even the most personal of sanitary attention was often attended to by our parents, siblings or other guardians.

For some reason, I’ve always remembered the central wall and the enclosures of that kindergarten bathroom. They were not made of blue or green metal partition barriers which filled the public bathrooms in most places --- you know that were pretty much like everywhere --- but were a light pastel chocolate color, perhaps an inch or so thick, made of a formidible stone like granite. I also remember the feel of my tiny hand on the smooth coldness of the wall. It always felt as if the wall was just sucking out the heat from my body.

Needless to say, even though it was inviting in its color scheme, the bathroom was not a warm friendly place. No reason to linger. In and out. Go in. Do your business and get out fast.

The first day of class our teacher, Miss Wanger, explained the rules of the classroom and how we all needed to be quiet when she clapped her hands so she could tell us what she had to say. Of course, being tiny people, she queeried if we were toilet trained. I remember as everyone’s hands went up, she smiled, then said, “Good.”

Continuing, she added, pointing, “The bathroom’s right in here and anytime you need to, just go right in and use the toilet. If for some reason, you need any help, just call out and Miss Constance or I will help you.”

Then she asked all of us to get up from our desks and follow her into the bathroom. It was oriented parallel to the wall behind the teacher’s desk with a short dividing wall running down the center of the bathroom. The first set of toilets in their individual stalls were visible at entry and then after passing the central wall, the second set of toilets was likewise visible.

I also remember Miss Wanger cautioning all the boys to never go beyond the central wall. There was no real explination given as to why boys shouldn’t go there other than that was the girl’s side. Just stay out of that area was the unspoken but understood rule for the boys.

As that information about the division between the boys and girls set in to my 6 year old psyche, I wondered why the boys weren’t allowed on the girl’s side. There didn’t seem to be any restriction like that for the girls being on the boy’s side. After all, my brain figured out, the girls had to go though the boy’s side to get to theirs.

I wasn’t the only one to wonder why the rules weren’t the same for the girls as one for the boys. One kid, Stevie Jones wondered out loud, “How come?” The expression on Miss Wanger’s face darkened and I could see he’d violated a cardinal rule: Don’t question the teacher.

Miss Wanger sharply told him and of course all of the boys, “That’s the rule!”. Then realizing that her response was a little to firm, the frown wrinkling her softened and she added, “Because girls need their privacy.”

Now that didn’t make any sense to me and I could see the question same mark go up on all the boys faces while the girls had the exact opposite reaction show on theirs. I sort of wanted an answer to why girls needed more privacy than boys when all we were doing was going to the bathroom. But, I sort of resolved that question myself as I was aware that boys and girls usually had separate bathrooms. So it really did seem natural. Or sort of???

Miss Wanger had finished her introduction to the bathroom and ushered us all back into the classroom. She told us to return to our desks as she and Miss Constance began handing out a large sheet of paper to each of us.

The sheet was laid before me and it had a series of spaced lines on it. The sheets were nothing new to me as we’d used similar ones to practice writing the alphabet and even how to write our names in Pre-School. It was no surprise when Miss Wanger said for us to write our A, B, C’s on the paper.

That task was not difficult because ringing the classroom, above the blackboards were all the letters of the alphabet. I fairly quickly completed that task and smiled to myself as I silently sang the alphabet song to myself while I wrote.

When I’d gotten through writing “L” & “M”, Miss Wanger called out that she wanted us to write our first and last names on the last line of the sheet that had been handed out. I silently chuckled to myself that last task was an easy one for a couple of reasons. As with the alphabet, pre-school had taught us that skill too and plus I’d noticed every name was also ringing the room in plackards with large letters.

When I’d finished writing the alphabet and checking the series of letters above the blackboards to make sure I’d not forgotten anything, I did the same with my scrawled name. I sat there waiting for the class to finish, when I began to feel that most natural of feelings. As tthe urge slowly swelled into my belly, I knew I was going to need to pee fairly soon.

Now Miss Wanger had told us when we needed to go, “Just go.”

So I quietly got up and walked into the bathroom. Once I’d passed through the portal for the bathroom, I made the immediate left we boys had been told to do. I could see that none of the toilet stalls were occupied so I wandered down to the end and chose the last stall.

Unzipping my jeans, I worked myself out and let loose into the toilet. Just to have a little fun while I expelled my urine, I thought I’d write a few letters in pee. An activity I’d often performed just for the fun of it. Although the furtherst I think I’d ever gotten was to almost, but not quite, completing “D”. Seeing I hadn’t had much to drink and the urgency to pee wasn’t that great, I only got halfway through “B” when my water ran out.

Standing there, my pee shooter in hand, I sort of flashed back to one time I’d joined my dad when he was peeing. There is something that makes it a bit satisfying; one boy peeing along with another. Sort of “Comrads-In-Arms”.

I mention that piece of flashback because, being around 4 or so and a member of the tiny people clan to boot, I was at eye level with my dad’s equipment. Compared to me, his was, shall we say, HUGE!!!

Anyway, as his pee stream stopped, he pinched himself off and gave it a little shake. I guess my dad had been watching me watching him because he commented, “Good to the last drop!” I looked up to see him chuckling through a smile. By then my pee had finished so I duplicated what I’d just then seen him do and smiled back to him, adding as he’d done, “Good to the last drop!” Then we shared a little laughter as we both zipped up and moved on.

So standing there in the Kindergarten washroom, I gave myself a pinch and a shake, all the while thinking of my dad and how I’d learned to shake off that last drop.

As I tucked myself back inside my jeans and zipped up, I heard a soft little rustle and a gentle sigh waft over the central wall. Almost simultaneously came a squishy, watery sound, which I guessed was from one of the girls peeing in a stall just the other side of the wall.

I’ve heard my mom peeing but this was a higher pitch and softer. Although I’d heard my mom pee, but like my dad and I had done, I’d never seen just how she peed and it seemed like a good time to satisfy my curiosity.

Well, curiosity got the better of me and like it had done to the preverbal cat, it almost got me into a heap of trouble. You see, I did what something I’d never done before. I reached my arms up and sort of stretched them up.

Even tough my hands weren’t anywhere near the top of the short wall separating me from peering over it, I just sort or floated up and was soon peering over the wall. Mind you, I hadn’t made any conscious effort to get that high, but there I was.

The next few instants in time are very hard to describe because everything seemed to happen all at once and were more of a blur, rather than a distinct series elements that must have actually transpired. From the instant where my eyes cleared the top of the wall instantly I recognized Sally-Jean from the blue ribbon she had tying her pony tail. Quickly her blood-curdling scream began, ending with me sitting back at my desk, hearing her scream reverbate throughout the classroom, ending with another blood-curdling scream; “There’s a boy watching me over the wall!!!” I distinctly felt as if everything had all happened at once.

Now I knew that I’d been there in the bathroom wondering what it looked like for a girl to pee and had reached my arms up, but I made no physical effort shinny up the wall to look over it. Yet that’s where I’d ended up.

Not that I’d seen anything except Sally-Jean sitting there, in her yellow jumper, skirt not pulled up the slightest, just resting on her lap. I did see her glance up at me, her eyes close and mouth open wide and begin to emit that horrendous scream.

But as soon as she started to scream, I knew that being there in the bathroom, peeking over the top of that short wall, was going to get me into heaps of trouble. All I did was wish I was back at my desk.

To say the least, I can tell you, I was surprised when I found myself exactly where I wanted to be.

I had no idea what I had done to get myself high enough to be able to peak over that short wall running down the center of the bathroom or how I’d actually been able to accomplish that feat.

Nor could I explain to myself how I’d been able to scamper down to my desk, which was last one at the back of the classroom, and not remember how I’d been able to do just that. All I can tell you is that’s where I ended up, sitting at my desk, watching the classroom drama unfold in front of me that first day of Kindergarten.

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