Cock Worshipper

by Jason Kason


Part 1

Okay, so this is my first attempt at writing a journal and I'm not too sure how it's going to sound. Just bear with me if it doesn't go to plan first time.

     I'm only writing stuff down because Philip, my counsellor, said it would help.  Start getting it all on paper, he said, see how it feels to have the words right there in front of you.  See if brings you ownership and closure.  Helps gain context and mindfulness.  All the usual bullshit they spout. 

     So let's start with the first day something significant happened.  The day you could maybe say my devotion started. 

     Well, to be honest, that first time was awkward as hell.   

     Before I begin, though, I should point out that all this happened in a pretty rough part of the North East right in the middle of Thatcher's eighties.  Lads were supposed to be lads back then and no-one but no-one admitted they were anything but straight, at least not in our town.  I don't want to get all history lesson on you, but it helps to contextualise as Philip would say. 

     It was a wet afternoon in the middle of the long summer holiday and me and my mate Edgy were slumped out bored in my bedroom. 

     It seemed like it might be a laugh to start daring each other to do daft things, and after trading a few stupid ones, like shouting 'egghead' out the window at the bald bloke next door, I dared him to show me his dick.  So far so good, because Edgy initially thought it was funny to get his knob out in front of another lad and I always liked looking at a dick when I had the chance. 

     That's something you'll quickly learn about me: dicks are something that to me are extremely important. 

     It's funny that in all the years I'd known Edgy, I'd never even once got to look at his cock.  He wasn't in the same PE group as me, so I never got to see it in the showers, and when we went to the baths he always locked himself away in his own private cubicle. 

     So I was really interested to see what he had between his legs and was pretty chuffed, to say the least, that he was up for getting his cock out in front of me for a dare. 

     What he pulled out through his fly had me utterly transfixed.  It was way longer than mine gets, even when it's hard, and had my eyes just about popping out at how awesomely thick it looked. 

     I couldn't help but gasp when I saw it and said, "Tell me you're running a semi, mate!" 

     He laughed that he wasn't and sort of wiggled it about to prove that he was stone cold floppy.  He really was: his dick was completely soft. 

     He just had a lovely big cock and, when I persuaded him to pull his jeans down a bit to show it off properly, I saw that his bollocks were pretty massive too. 

     I was utterly enthralled.  I couldn't believe that this lad, who I'd sat next to in most of our subjects since first form, had stashed away in his unassuming school trousers some meat and two veg that were so utterly incredible. 

     Divine, you might say. 

     Maybe that's where my whole cock worshipping thing came from: getting so impressed by Edgy's majestic set of junk in my bedroom that afternoon. 

     But on second thoughts, it probably had nothing to do with it.  Like I said, I'd always liked looking at cocks no matter who they belonged to and in any case Philip always reckons everything can be traced back to early childhood. 

     When I first told Philip this story, by the way, he actually thought Edgy's mam and dad had gone and given him a bozo first name like 'Edgy'.  And then, later on, when I was telling about other lads I knew back then, like Hutchy and Pally, he figured that in the North East everyone must give their kids stupid names like that. 

     So even though it's blindingly obvious, I'd better point out that Edgy was just his nickname.  His full name was actually Simon Edgerton but lads where I'm from never call each other by their first names, at least not when they're mates.  Instead we all use nicknames which are shortened from their surnames.  It's pretty obvious really but Philip went to a posh school in Surrey so on certain topics he really hasn't got a clue. 

     Anyway, after he'd tucked himself away, Edgy dared me to get my dick out so I could show mine to him just like he had with me, but I said, "You can't make the same dare as I did.  It's against the rules." 

     He was like, "Those aren't the rules," and we ended up arguing for a bit, but eventually he accepted it and said, "Okay, in that case I dare you to get your knob out and wank it off in front of me." 

     I was surprised he'd say that because he never normally talked about stuff like that and always blushed and went quiet when other lads made jokes about jerking off.  But I was quite turned-on by the idea of rubbing my dick in front of this lad I'd known so long and I hoped he might join in with his much bigger one, so I said, "Alright, but I'll need something to get me horny." 

     Now, these days with the internet and streaming videos and stuff, lads are pretty spoilt for choice about what they use to jazz off to.  In those days, though, porn was hard to get your hands on, and the usual way for a horny teenager to fuel a good wank was to get your mam's catalogue and bring it up to your bedroom. 

     Jesus, even though it was only thirty years ago to young lads today it probably sounds prehistoric.  Like we were all sitting around under candle-light, tossing off in front of etchings and trying not to get our spunk on the parchments.  In reality, though, it wasn't too different to nowadays: I mean, we had most of the stuff we have these days except for the endless porn coming in through our phonelines. 

     Anyway, Edgy laughed when he saw my mam's catalogue.  "Oh, nice," he said.  "Me mam gets the Kays one.  I've never looked through a Freemans before." 

     I put it on my bed and knelt down on the floor in front of it, then I turned to the pages I used to always use to wank off.  And this is where it first starts getting a bit awkward. 

     I unzipped my fly and started rubbing at my dick, enjoying how it felt to get myself hard in front of Edgy.  I pulled my foreskin back and let him see my red-end, and then wrapped my fingers around the shaft and started jerking off for real. 

     God, if I'd known how horny it would feel to whack off in front of another lad I'd have suggested something like this years before!  I turned to him and grinned at him, sticking my hips right forwards with my fist pumping quickly up and down on my stalked-up knob. 

     But Edgy just stared at me with a gawping look on his face like he was shocked and I thought I must have misunderstood the dare.  I thought that maybe when he'd dared me to "wank off", to him that must mean something else. 

     I mean, some people use weird words for private stuff, don't they?  One lad in my class used to call his dick his 'stump' and another would say he needed a 'happening' when he wanted to take a dump.  

     I stopped jerking at my cock and said, "What are you looking at me like that for?  You dared me to wank off and that's what I'm doing." 

     "Yeah, but what have you got the catalogue open on the fellas pages for?  Why are you wanking off looking at blokes in their pants?" 

     "I don't use the boys' pages anymore," I said, thinking maybe he still looked at the pages of younger lads in their underwear like I used to.  "I prefer the older guys now.  I like the way their dicks make bigger bulges and how hairy some of them are." 

     He peered at me like I was from outer space or something. 

     "What I mean is, Kasey, why are you looking at men, boys or anything on these pages?  Why aren't you looking at the women with their bras and little knickers and stuff?" 

     I shrugged, not really getting the point.  I'd always assumed that all lads enjoyed looking at or thinking of knobs when they stroked their own. 

     "When you wank your dick off," I explained – and I really can't believe I said this to him – "it makes you spunk up faster when you look at other dicks.  It's just how it works." 

     To me the symmetry had always made sense.  Looking at other lads' wangers made my own prick get harder.  Stands to reason, or so I'd always thought. 

     Edgy just stared at me with his eyes open wide.  It seemed like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

     Thinking he must need some advice about this sort of stuff, I pointed to one of the pictures of a bloke standing in just his blue briefs and a vest.  "Like that fella there, you can tell he's got a big cock." 

     I always liked looking at the men who were stashing nice, big meaty knobs in their bulging briefs.  It was why I looked forward to going away in the caravan every summer: having a twice-daily opportunity to see so many fellas in the washrooms with their man-sized cocks flopping around as they were getting dried. 

     I started jerking my dick again, thinking I was showing him how it worked.  "And you can see his bollocks in that photo, where he's got his knob up to the side." 

     "Are you fucking gay or something?" Edgy blurted out.  He didn't sound too friendly. 

     "Course I'm not!" I laughed.  "It's just..." 

     I glanced at the pages again and suddenly realised how it looked.  Maybe not just how it looked but how it actually was. 

     I'd done this for years, wanking off looking at pictures of fellas with hardly anything on or thinking of how my mates' pricks looked in the changing rooms after PE.  Even the sports pages of the Sunday Mirror could show a footballer's bulge that was worth taking up to my bedroom.  I'd never given much thought to why it worked that way for me; it just made rubbing my foreskin up and down feel a hell of a lot nicer. 

     I had to act quickly so I laughed like I was only messing. 

     "I'm just joking with you, Edgy," I said, taking my hand off my dick and quickly struggling to find the women's underwear pages.  "I was only having you on.  Of course I don't get off looking at that kind of stuff." 

     Except I did and I could see from the way he didn't laugh back that he knew it. 

     "D'ya spunk up when you look at all the hairy fellas in their Y-fronts, then?" he asked. 

     "I don't look at them, mate," I kept pretending to laugh, still desperately trying to figure out where the fuck they put the women's skivvies.  "I told you – I was just joking." 

     He nodded but his face looked totally unconvinced. 

     Eventually I found the right section and had to really press the middle spine of the catalogue down to get it to stay open.  You could smell the chemical whiff of ink off the factory-fresh glossy pages. 

     I turned to him smiled, "Yeah, these are what I always look at." 

     After what seemed like ages, he said simply, "Okay." 

     Edgy had always been a lad of few words but this one seemed especially heavy with meaning. 

     We looked together at the pictures in the women's underwear pages and, although they made Edgy's jeans get a big lump that he couldn't help but touch, to me it seemed a bit pervy to be ogling girls in their next-to-nothings.  It didn't feel sexy at all but more like we were a couple of peeping toms spying on women in their bras and panties.  It felt a bit seedy, if you know what I mean. 

     I never felt that looking at the men's pages.  Look at fellas making nice big sausage-shaped mounds in their tight, skimpy briefs always felt exciting, especially when it was a brand new catalogue that had just been delivered with loads of new blokes I'd never seen before. 

     As I was pretending to wank off looking at the women, but was really more interested in Edgy's knob making a rising bulge in his jeans, I said, "Will you not tell anyone about that stupid joke, mate?" 

     He nodded without looking up from the models.  "Just don't say anything like that again, Kasey.  At least not to me." 

     I knew he wouldn't tell anyone: he wasn't like that.  He was aware that I'd just accidentally let him know something really secret about me and he didn't want to talk about it any more than we already had. 

     Now that Edgy had pointed it out, it seemed pretty obvious that other boys must think of boobs and fannies and stuff when they wank.  It had just never occurred to me until that moment.  From the very first time I'd wanked off, I'd just assumed that, for some reason, a cock gets bigger when there's another cock to look at. 

     Did that make me gay, like Edgy had said?  I figured it might.  It probably did, actually.  Or then again, it was just as likely that Edgy had spent a while thinking of dicks before he moved on to women's bits, so maybe in time my own tastes would slowly change just the same. 

     There was no way I was going to ask him: it would be like admitting that I really did look at the men's pages when I wank.  In any case, even if he had jerked off over the blokes in their underwear in his mam's Kays catalogue, how likely was it that was going to tell me?  He'd made it unquestionably clear from his face what he thought of lads who look at other lads when they play with their dicks. 

     You're probably expecting that the catalogue moment with Edgy had a profound impact on me and that I'm going to start going on about how I struggled to come to terms with my sexuality and battled for years to accept myself. 

     But for me it wasn't like that.  The whole sexuality thing has never really bothered me, to be honest.  If it had, the fact I was whacking off looking at blokes in their underkeks would probably have struck me as significant long before that afternoon with Edgy.  As it was, I just figured that I'd do whatever felt good and not think into it any more deeply than that. 

     Perhaps one of my earlier counsellor's reports was right about me.  Perhaps I really do wear "emotional blinkers". 

     Anyway, what I'm saying is that my focus wasn't on thinking through whatever sexual leanings I might or might not have; my sole motivation was on watching how big Edgy's cock was growing in the front of his jeans and figuring out how I was going to get to see it at full mast.  I wanted it out in the open and to see him jerking it in front of me.  I wanted to find out how much spunk a big pair of knackers like his would produce. 

     That's always been my problem.  I ignore the bigger picture when there's a cock closer to hand. 

     So I asked him, "D'you wanna wank off together?" 

     Without taking his eyes off the catalogue, he said, "That was my dare for you.  I thought you said we couldn't copy each other's dares." 

     I'd actually forgotten that we were playing dares.  That big bulge in his trousers was pretty much filling up my whole brain. 

     "Your dare was for me to wank off, mine is for us both to do it together.  It's different." 

     Without any further persuasion, he nodded and started unzipping his fly. 

     I think he just wanted an excuse to jack off looking at the women in the catalogue.  I hadn't realised he was so into wanking off over pictures of women in their underwear but, like I said, Edgy never talked about stuff like that.  His mam probably said that sort of talk was dirty.  She looked like she would say that, even to Edgy's dad. 

     He pulled his massive knob out again, this time just about fully hard with the foreskin half pulled back across its purple, slimy head. 

     And my first thought on seeing the gargantuan thing was: "I want that in my mouth." 

     I hadn't even thought of licking another lad's cock before, never mind putting his whole swollen bell-end in between my lips, but as soon as I saw Edgy's big, wet cock head, that was where my mind went straightaway. 

     He started slowly wanking himself, not taking his eyes from the pictures for a second.  Pretty much the whole time we both had our dicks out, he was totally engrossed by the scantily clad women.  It was like he was fascinated by them; his attention held completely by their lacy bras and skimpy panties. 

     Maybe he had a thing about ladies' underwear; maybe he still does.  Or maybe he knew I was turned on by his knob and wanted to send out a clear message from where he was directing his eyes that he had absolutely no interest in mine. 

     I loved the way his foreskin open and closed across his cock head and the way his piss-slit oozed clear liquid which gave the purple skin a smooth, shiny lustre.  It was really quite stunningly beautiful: so much better than all those vacant-looking tarts in the catalogue standing around in their undies. 

     How could I get the thing into my mouth?  What could I say to get him to let me taste it? 

     I should make it clear at this point, that Edgy's cock never got anywhere near my mouth.  Not that afternoon, not ever.  There was no way on god's earth that he was ever going to let me.  In spite of how placid he normally was, I could imagine he might have thumped me pretty hard if I had tried to go down on him. 

     So the front of Edgy's jeans wasn't the venue for my first blowjob.  That was still a few months away next to the level crossing on the edge of town with a lad called Bulmer who I'd barely even spoken to until then. 

     But that story will have to wait until my next journal entry.  At least it will if I keep going with this; I can't tell if writing all this out is helping me the way Philip said it would.  I'll have to get him to read through all this, see if he thinks I've done it right. 

     So back to that afternoon in my bedroom when, still wanking myself at the same speed Edgy was jerking his own much bigger dick, I said, "Have you got another dare for me?" 

     I was hoping he'd dare me to lick his bell-end.  I mean, like he would ever have said anything like that! 

     But that's my problem: once there's a cock in my vicinity, all reason and logic goes right out the window. 

     "Single-mindedly penis-focussed."  That's what it says on my record.  I'm thinking of having it inscribed on my gravestone when the time comes. 

     I'm surprised, looking back, that Edgy still wanted to play the game.  Unlike me, he seemed single-mindedly bra- and panty-focussed, the way he was staring at the catalogue like he was in a trance. 

     Eventually, he said, "I dare you to spunk up." 

     I laughed.  "Oh come on, mate.  That much is a given.  We dared each other to wank off – of course we're gonna spunk up!" 

     He reached up to turn the page over and then asked, "Is there a ladies' swimwear section?" 

     I shrugged.  How the fuck would I know? 

     He leafed through the pages until he found the bikini pages and then started wanking himself a bit faster, probably imagining himself at the town swimming pool ogling all the women and lasses in their skimpy cozzies. 

     "Come on, what's your next dare?" I asked, willing him to ask me to lick his knob-end while he jerked his foreskin up and down. 

     I even had my response ready.  I'd laugh like it was the daftest thing I'd heard and say well okay, since it was a dare I suppose I would have to do it.  Then I'd start lapping at the thing, licking up his precum, like a cat in front of a saucer of milk. 

     But he wasn't playing ball. 

     He said, "I dunno... what else is there, Kasey?  I mean, what sort of stuff did you have in mind?" 

     I couldn't suggest he ask me to lick his knob.  Not after the whole thing about me looking at fellas in their pants.  Something like that had to come from him. 

     So I said, "You could dare me to wank your dick off." 

     Without even glancing up at me, he replied, "I'm not gonna ask you to do that, Kasey.  No way." 

     "They reckon it feels better when it's someone else's hand," I persisted, as if it was the sort of thing I'd just overheard in conversation.  In fact I knew full well how much better it felt from having had it done to me in one of the caravans at the campsite. 

     "I don't want you touching my cock," he said flatly.  There was to be no shifting him on this, his tone made that clear. 

     When I told this story to Philip he asked if I'd been – and I paraphrase, because there's no way he'd use these words – hoping for a fuck.  He didn't specify which way round, but I assume he thought I might have been working towards getting Edgy's prick up my bum. 

     But I wasn't.  I didn't really think about stuff like that until later.  I'm not sure I even knew back then that having another lad's knob up your butt could be enjoyable.  I mean, I'd heard about bumming and stuff – and everyone knew that there were fellas who hung around the town hall toilets who liked to knob each other's arses – but for me, the appeal of Edgy's cock was for its own sake.  I was just in awe of it for how big and thick it looked and wanted to touch it and lick it and get its spunk all over my face. 

     It's always been that way with me and cocks, ever since that first time with Edgy in my bedroom. 

     I mean, I'm not saying that these days I don't like a cock up my arse; don't get me wrong on that score.  But I didn't figure that out until later that autumn, in the back alley behind Fishburn Street as it happened.  And I'm not saying I don't like having another lad bend over for me; I soon got well into that too on a rain-soaked building site the next February. 

     But right at the beginning it was just a case of cock worship, plain and simple.  I couldn't take my eyes off how totally awe-inspiring Edgy's knob was in front of me and I was desperate to have a lot more to do with it than just look at him wanking it. 

     "Okay," I said to Edgy, trying not to sound too disappointed.  "You could dare me to... I dunno... maybe rub your nuts while you're tossing off." 

     He didn't say anything – just kept looking at that fucking catalogue instead of at me – but I could tell from the way his hand sped up a bit on his dick that he liked the idea of having his bollocks fondled. 

     Having me touch his cock was out of bounds for him, but letting me rub his knackers seemed like it might be okay.  It wouldn't have been my first choice of what I'd want him to dare me to do, but as a consolation prize it was better than nowt. 

     Taking his silence as a positive, I went on, "You'll have to pull your keks down a bit, though.  And sort of squat down so I can get my hand underneath you." 

     Jesus, this was the lad whose mam and dad had taken me to Alton Towers with them.  Was I really putting him through this: making him do this stuff with me? 

     He didn't look at me at all as he pulled his jeans and pants down around his ankles.  His face was flushed, his cheeks deep scarlet.  He was intrigued about the idea of having me do this to him but he was also feeling embarrassed that it was turning him on. 

     He squatted down like I'd told him to and I reached underneath him to grab his bollocks with my left hand while we both kept wanking off, by now pumping ourselves quite quickly.  Again his eyes were on the tarts in the catalogue; at no point did he look at me while I was fondling his nuts. 

     They felt large and heavy in my hand, full and swollen with his hot, creamy spunk.  I kneaded them between my fingers, enjoying how much bigger than mine they felt.  The skin of his scrotum was soft and wrinkled: unlike the base of his cock which bristled with a thick pubic bush, his ball-sack was practically hairless. 

     He flicked back through the catalogue and found the underwear pages again.  His hand got even faster: he was on the home straight.  I sped my right hand up on my own to match his rhythm.  I wanted us both to cum at the same time: I knew once he'd finished he'd be totally disgusted to have to watch me beat myself off. 

     I kept rubbing his bollocks, loving the feel of them in my hand.  I was wishing I could get my face underneath him and have a good sniff of them and maybe lick them while he wanked his dick off above me but I knew if I suggested that he'd probably call an abrupt end to all this. 

     I worked my hand a bit further back, feeling the wiry hair between his arse-cheeks and the moister, matted clumps where his arsehole must be, but he grabbed my forearm with his free hand and said, again without shifting his gaze, "Just my nuts, Kasey.  Not back there." 

     Again, my first go at fingering a lad would have to come later.  That'd be my cousin, round the back of his dad's pub. 

     I held his balls firm while the two of us jerked ourselves towards our orgasms, him looking at the bras and panties, me with my eyes fixed on his magnificent dick. 

     I whispered to him, my voice getting breathless, "One more dare, okay?  When you cum, I dare you to bust your nut on my hand." 

     He went bright red again.  He must like the thought of shooting his jizz on someone else's hand but was even more embarrassed about it. 

     He didn't say yes; instead he muttered, still focussed on those god-awful women, "I'm pretty close." 

     I let go of his bollocks and raised my hand up in front of his big, shiny bell-end as his foreskin jerked frantically back and forth across it.  He abruptly stopped wanking, looked down at his throbbing cock with the foreskin pulled right back, and directed his gaping piss-slit at my palm.  Then he wanked it again quickly but making much shorter movements until squirt after squirt of hot, white spunk started shooting from the head. 

     I caught a little puddle of his cream and then, acting purely on instinct, raised it to my mouth and had a taste of it with my tongue. 

     Still cumming, but now squirting his load all over the carpet, Edgy stared at me with a look of absolute horror.  When I saw his face I tried to smile, lapping away blissfully at his freshly-shot seed, but his expression didn't change: he was genuinely appalled that I would want to taste his spunk. 

     He looked even more shocked when my own cock started firing off as I was licking his jizz, adding to the mess on the carpet between us. 

     While I was still cumming, he stood up and started pulling his pants up. 

     "I can't believe you just did that, Kasey!  That was, like, totally out of order." 

     He was finding it difficult to cram his spent hard-on into his briefs and had to shove it up to one side so that it made a thick diagonal rod running up towards his left hip.  The sight of it prolonged my orgasm and I kept jerking myself off, my spunk still squirting.  If only the fellas in the catalogue looked like that in their underwear! 

     He yanked up his jeans and said, "You said you wanted my stuff on your hand – though fuck knows why I went along with it – but you didn't say anything about licking it." 

     The rhythm of my hand slowed and the shooting of my own spunk eased to a trickle.  I managed to say, "I didn't mean to, Edgy.  It just seemed... I dunno... like it would be funny." 

     "Funny?  Jesus, mate!  You're fucking well screwy today.  First the blokes in the catalogue, now licking at my goop when you were nutting off.  I don't know what's wrong with you." 

     I grabbed some tissue and started wiping up our mess, my trousers still pulled down and my softening cock still hanging out. 

     "I just... I dunno... I sort of had it in my hand and then I thought you were gonna dare me to lick it.  So I did it before you could say." 

     Edgy looked really pissed off.  He fastened up his belt and said, "I would never have said anything like that.  You know that.  I don't even know why I let you put your hand on my balls.  Or why I wanked off with you in the first place." 

     He walked over to my bedroom door.  He was going home, no doubt to mope in his own bedroom about what we'd done. 

     "Don't tell anyone about what we just did," he said before he left.  "And don't ask me to do anything like this again.  I mean that, Kasey.  Never again." 

     And that was pretty much the end of that. 

     However, of all my many sexploits with other lads back then, Edgy's reaction wasn't quite the worst.  Bulmer, who my next journal entry will be about, outclassed him good and proper on that score. 

     Other lads I did stuff with were usually okay about it afterwards.  The cousin I mentioned whose bum I got to finger asked me straightaway when the next time would be! 

     But Edgy was never really comfortable around me again.  I once joked with him, when we were playing cards one afternoon, that we should play strip poker and he glared at me and said, "You know what I said, Kasey.  It's not gonna happen." 

     So groping his bollocks was all I got to do with him.  That and sniffing his dirty pants one day when a few of us were at the swimming pool and he'd forgotten his twenty pence so we both had to share a locker.  I sneaked back while the rest of them were swimming and grabbed his briefs and took them to the loos.  But that doesn't really count, does it? 

     Anyway, I don't know if writing all this out has helped with anything.  As first times go, it didn't amount to much but maybe it sets the scene and helps explain where I'm coming from. 

     The next few times I did stuff with another fella was a bloke called who I used to see when I walked the dog.  He was a bit older than me and, while our dogs were running around in the wood near our house, the two of us would go into the bushes and wank off together.  It started when we both needed a piss and then, long after we'd both finished peeing, we stood together with our cocks still out and started fiddling with them, watching each other.  Soon it became a nightly ritual, standing in front of each other with our hands whacking away on our dicks at full speed. 

     Once again, though, I messed it up by pushing it too far.  The whole cock worship thing got the better of me like it did with Edgy.  It turned out that, while this guy was happy enough for us to pull our puds and watch each other nutting off, he got freaked out when he said I came on too strong.  He didn't flounce off like Edgy had, but he said it would be best if we just stuck with walking our dogs and chatting about what was on telly. 

     So that's why my next journal entry will skip ahead to that autumn when I got to suck Bulmer off near the level crossing.  That was maybe the proper start of it all, because, unlike Edgy, Bulmer put word around school about what I'd done.  And while most lads acted like they were disgusted and called me a skanky knob-gobbling puffter and all other kinds of stuff, some saw having a cock worshipper around for the opportunity it really was. 

     So, yeah, that was where it really began