Back in the City

Gerald B. 

Back home on Dexxxxx Street, there was a high-school boy named Gerald B, who lived a few doors down from our flat.  He was at least 15 and he was often home alone in the afternoon, as I guess his parents worked.  One day, he saw me through his window and called my name, inviting me into his place, and I just walked right in. He brought me to the kitchen and gave me some hard candy which was in a fancy little glass jar with a lid.  The candies were red and white, striped peppermint, and I dislike those kinds of candies to this day. He took me to his room and motioned me to sit on his bed.  He looked straight at me and bluntly told me to take my panties off, which I did, without a moment’s hesitation. 

He laid me back on the bed, opened a drawer in the mahogany desk next to it, and got a flashlight.  He spread my legs and looked closely at my vulva and vagina.  He carefully opened the labia and inspected everything.  Then he put his index finger a little way into the vaginal opening, which was uncomfortable but not very painful and he did his best to look inside my tiny vagina, pushing it open as much as he could and trying to shine the flashlight in there. The whole time, I lay there like a dummy and said nothing.  I made no complaints, no protests, nor showed the slightest resistance at all. 

Then he pulled his pants down and lay on top of me. He pushed his rather large penis against me – not inside me by any means – just against my genitals. He began to move back and forth, starting off a bit slowly and then, of course, he became more excited and moved very quickly until he ejaculated, which was almost instantly. Though he had a small towel ready and wiped it up immediately, there was still a tiny puddle of sticky white semen on my belly, which was messy but certainly did not hurt. It was a curious thing to me and I put one finger in it.  He got some tissues and cleaned it off, telling me to get up and go home.

This went on for weeks.  I didn’t much like it but neither did I really mind it and I believe I was about eight or nine years old.  Now Gerald was much older than I, and certainly he was not one of my small group of friends, but he did make sure that none of the other kids on our street bothered me, which was helpful, since I was easily pushed around by some of them. So I guess I was ‘buying’ protection! One day, for no reason that I can think of, I actually did tell my mother about what was happening to me.  It’s possible she realized that I was taking a long time to get home after school and asked me about it, but I don’t recall her initiating any inquiries.  More likely, I felt a need to say something to someone.  I clearly remember that we were standing on the little balcony that faced the street as I told her that Gerald was looking at me and touching me and doing some ‘things’.  Oddly, she didn’t seem particularly concerned, nor did she ask for any details. She simply said, “Don’t do it anymore.”  No other action was taken by her. I doubt she ever dared to tell my father who I am convinced would have surely done something. But in any case, I did not listen to my mother.  And, since she showed little emotion and no worry about what I had told her, I did not feel upset either.  Children have their ways of ‘hearing’ what adults say and not necessarily internalizing it as the actual words are spoken, but rather by the emotional message, as it were.

So I continued going to Gerald’s house after school, since he was always home alone and called me in whenever he happened to see me. He surely knew the usual time I was returning home and he had learned to give me English toffee candy which I loved, so we had these visits often.  Yes, these games continued for many months or perhaps even a year – I am not really sure at all. In any case, if my mother actually noticed that I was still coming home late most days – she never asked why, nor did I ever tell again.

Shulim K.

One of my first encounters with a grown man who touched me ‘in a bad way’ that actually felt good, while it also felt wrong, was when I was at least 10 years old.  It was one of my father’s employees.  He was young, probably twenty-five or so.  We had just moved to a new house on a nicer street, and my father had a business, where he hired guys to do work for clients. Almost all of them were immigrants or French Canadians, and they all had heavy accents when they tried to speak English.  This young man had come to our house, where he was waiting for my father to come home, either to get paid for a job done or to find out about a new job. He was in the living room sitting on an upholstered chair that was a pinkish color.  He had thick black hair, large, heavy-lidded eyes and very full lips, and he was dressed in work clothes.  My mother was in the basement, busy with laundry. I dreaded that dark cavern, so I was not about to go down there, since there was a person upstairs with whom I could visit. I had seen this young man before and he had always been cheerful and said a few words to me.  He smiled at me as he took a package of gum from a jacket pocket.

“Chewin’ gom?” he offered me a piece and I reached for it.  He grinned and quickly pulled his hand back behind his ear.  As I was off balance, with my arm outstretched, I sort of fell towards him – my body went forward, landing against and between his widespread thighs. He then ‘caught’ me between his legs and held me there, laughing, but gave me the gum. I stayed there, unwrapped the gum – Dentyne I think – and started chewing it.  

Suddenly, his hands went all over me. He quickly slipped his fingers under my panties and felt the hairless vulva.  He softly moved his fingers along the outer labia and then tickled the inner lips.  I definitely had a jolting realization that he shouldn’t have touched me, not there for sure – but it also felt hot and very tingly and definitely nice.  I remember seeing his full lips coming closer and he kissed me.  Oh, I didn’t like it at all! His mouth felt so slimy and repulsive to me, yet I did not even try to get away. But the whole time, he kept stroking my labia ever so softly and that sensation was powerfully pleasant, yet strongly mixed with the clear awareness that what he was doing to me was ‘wrong’. But I felt warm all over, with his fingers between my legs and somehow I could not budge.

He was wearing very loose trousers and he pulled my hand and pressed it among all those folds of cloth, onto the hardness in his crotch.  He kept a tight hold on my fingers – squeezing them around his cock under his pants.  He firmly held my body between his strong thighs, and I just stayed there, allowing him to do whatever he was doing, since I simply did not know what else to do. It just never occurred to me to try to get away! He kept grinning at me with those reddish slimy lips. I knew I was trapped, yet I did not cry out or struggle at all.  I just kind of froze and stayed put.

Suddenly, we heard my father’s voice as he entered the front door. Whoosh! All hands away and all hardness gone!  I was quickly released. Just the chewing gum remained.  Never a single word was said about any of that other stuff – ever.  

Published by rozhinka

I am a writer, artist and a woman who is exploring and reflecting on many things. In writing this very personal Diary of Secrets and Fantasies, I am looking backwards in trying to understand myself - and I am looking forward in exploring new paths of pleasure and possibilities. It's a precarious and precious journey. It's already been quite surprising - and often shocking.

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