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He whispered in my ear, “Do you want to get fucked?” I mean I enjoyed the energetic feeling of his desire for me.) (I am not making a euphemism for his erection. I was still enjoying the feeling of being touched in a way and feeling his desire for me.
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I started to feel more conflicted now, not liking the way he pushed into me or his wet kisses that now felt almost like he was drooling on me. He was more forceful now, pushing me against the wall next to the gate. He said I could have one more hour.Īs soon as I came back out, Dicky had his mouth on me.
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He was always seemed to know what was in my head. There were beer bottles, money, ashtrays, and cards arranged neatly around the circle. My dad and his friends were still sitting around on the floor playing cards. He waited at the gate for me while I went in to ask. I decided to ask for more time so I could get more of this. I didn’t really like how wet his kisses were, but I liked being physically close to him and feeling his desire for me. My front door was actually a gate to an alleyway that led to a back apartment. This time, Dicky walked home with me my house was just a few blocks from the basketball court. Too soon, my hour was up and it was time to go home again. I went back to the basketball court for more Marlboros and more of the good feelings. I asked him if I could go back out, and he said yes. I went in to find my dad and his friends sitting around on the floor playing cards.
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I decided to ask my dad if I could stay out later. As my curfew approached, I knew I wanted more of this good feeling-the perfect weather, the cigarettes and pot, the feeling of belonging and being special. My father was new to parenting, but he knew enough to give me a curfew (maybe 9 p.m.). This attention and cred was giving me everything I thought I needed in life: the euphoria of attention and a place to belong. His attention gave me a little cred with the other kids at the basketball court because of his tough-guy reputation and his criminal enterprise. I wanted to be that-cool and hard and invulnerable. He had no heart, he was cold as ice, and this may have been the most attractive part of him. He was older and sexy with his beautiful skin, thin, muscular body, and big lips. He had never really paid attention to me before. I felt good about being alive in that moment. When this boy/man (let’s call him “Dicky”) talked to me and showed interest in me, the sensations in my body felt good. The euphoria that I felt from obsessing about boys, fantasizing about sex, and being in love was satisfying my need to escape reality. I hadn’t had sex yet (other than a few kisses and childhood sex play with peers). The intoxication of intrigue and sexual desire had already become a drug for me. I was looking for thrills, excitement, cigarettes, attention-anything to keep me away from the pain of being me, of being alive. I was not particularly interested in making girlfriends in this new neighborhood. The summer was spent hanging out in the neighborhood, around the basketball court. There was no camp or summer vacation for me that year. It was early summer, nice enough to be outside but not oppressively hot. I had recently moved in with my father, after years of conflict with my mother. I was 12 years old, the summer before I turned 13. This is the story of how I lost my virginity against my will. This event, being raped at 12 years old, was one turn in the long and winding road back to myself. This experience is integrated into the fabric of my being, a bend in the road of my sexuality. ~ This story does not define me or my life.