Memories of the years

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

Part 1: The Beginnings of Childhood

I was born in the late 1970s in a remote small town in Southwest China, working for a quasi-Third Front enterprise—what the locals often called "factory and mine children." I can't quite remember when my voyeuristic tendencies started, but a few things are very clear in my memory:
our factory was located a few kilometers outside the town in a mountainous area. The residential area consisted mostly of single-story houses, with a public toilet next to one or two of them. The public toilet next to our house was built next to a pine forest on the mountainside. I was only about four years old then, and very timid. Adults loved to scare children our age, and often when I went to the toilet, they would tell me that tigers would bite my bottom in the woods, which left me with a psychological trauma.
Because my father was busy with work, often working the afternoon or night shift, only my mother accompanied me to the toilet after I came home from daycare. Since I was so young, my mother would always take me directly to the women's toilet. In those days, toilets were all dry toilets without stalls; people just squatted side-by-side to relieve themselves. My memory of women's toilets is that there were five or six stalls.
Because I was small, my mother wouldn't let me squat in a stall. The width of the stall was just right for an adult, but too wide for a four-year-old. So I would find a spot to squat against the wall in the women's toilet aisle, and after I finished, my mother would shovel my excrement into the pit.
My parents both worked, and my mother would only pick me up from work in the afternoon. By the time I needed to go to the toilet after dinner, it was usually around six or seven o'clock, before it got too dark. Often, when my mother took me to the toilet, it would already be full of several older women, older sisters, or grandmothers, so I would squat against the wall facing them to relieve myself. Imagine, a tiny little kid like me, squatting down, my line of sight was just about the same height as their lower bodies. And the distance between each stall wasn't great; they were practically sitting right next to each other. If I looked left and right, I'd see a row of women's naked lower bodies right in front of me, either urinating or defecating. It was quite a sight. And there were women who loved to joke around, teasing me while they were urinating or defecating, of course, there were plenty of stories about tigers biting their butts…
This was the most wonderful period of my life when I could openly watch women urinate face-to-face. Perhaps the idea of watching women defecate sprouted in my young, innocent mind from that time.

After I started elementary school, I could no longer use the girls' restroom, and I don't remember peeping at women using the toilet for several years. It seems that without this later incident, I might never have developed that voyeuristic tendency in my life.
It was in third grade, one morning, after a heavy rain.
Let me describe the toilets at our school for children of employees. A wall separated the men's and women's toilets, and everyone squatted side by side. Under each squatting stall was a shared, tunnel-like latrine for excrement. Directly behind the wall separating the men's and women's toilets was the outlet of the latrine, where the excrement collected in an open-air cesspool.
Why do I remember it raining heavily that day? Because only heavy rain causes water to accumulate in the cesspool and overflow into the latrine, and only heavy rain accumulates so much water. Perhaps the latrine workers had cleaned up the accumulated excrement the day before or that morning, so the water in the latrine was relatively clean—I remember it being quite clear. Also, because the outlet of the latrine was an open-air cesspool, the light coming in from the outlet clearly illuminated the water surface under the two squatting stalls closest to the wall in both the men's and women's toilets. From the men's stall closest to the wall, you could clearly see the reflection of the roof above the women's stall closest to the wall in the latrine's water surface.
I glanced at it rather unintentionally, and that one glance made my trip to the toilet take almost half an hour.
There were many students using the toilet at noon. The first one I saw was a clean little white tiger (a term for a girl with no genitals), which goes without saying, since they were all elementary school girls, and they were all white tigers. I only had time to catch a glimpse of a pretty little pussy before the image was shattered by her urine. As the amount of urine decreased, the drops still formed ripples on the surface of the water. I could only vaguely see her little butt bobbing up and down before she quickly got up, pulled up her pants, and left.
Until the last girl relieved herself, when her urine stopped dripping and her feces stopped falling, and the surface of the water calmed down, a clean little pussy and a constantly contracting little anus were clearly presented before my eyes.
Although I was only nine years old, my penis involuntarily hardened instantly, and my breathing became rapid. But at that age, I didn't know anything about masturbation, so I just stared blankly at that little butt. I felt like I was acting very strange, just wanting to keep staring at the girl's private parts. When the girl was about to finish, she lifted her butt, and her gaze naturally fell on the surface of the water under the squat toilet.
In that instant, our eyes met. I was stunned, and so was she. Our hands, already holding the toilet paper to our buttocks, froze.
For a few seconds, I quickly looked away, but my gaze drifted to her bottom. She was still frozen, holding the paper to her anus. Only when I looked at her did she shift her gaze, probably noticing the situation below me, including my small, erect penis. Then, with an unnatural, even slow, pace, she wiped her bottom and vagina, her eyes glancing upwards, avoiding my gaze. It wasn't
until the girl finished wiping, pulled up her pants, and left that I finally came to my senses. I quickly finished myself and rushed out of the bathroom, my heart pounding…
I can't remember which girl it was, I only know we made eye contact, I can't even recall her face. Anyway, no teacher came to bother me in the end; back then, my biggest fear was being told off by the teacher.
My only memory is that it was from that time that I truly began to enjoy and become obsessed with watching girls use the toilet, and started looking forward to rainy days...

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