Chapter 2

I need to take a little break here, just for a few minutes. That’s partly because what happened next still gets me hot, and I remember it like it was yesterday and my panties are getting a little damp. Well, they would be if I was wearing any. But that’s not the point. The point is that over the years I’ve thought about this a lot, and even talked with several men about it.

You see, most people would agree that a grown man who finds an eleven or twelve year old girl “sexy” is a pedophile. I think the primary reason for this is that girls at that age still have the primary features of a really little girl. Their pudenda are bare, and look little different than that of a baby, really. They have no breasts to speak of, but there might be swells under what are usually pale areolas and undeveloped nipples. But their other features are anything but babyish. All that baby fat is gone (assuming they have an active lifestyle) and they are often described as “coltish” because their arms and legs are growing, and they’re full of energy. Some girls are a little awkward at that age, but most have fluid movements. They can sit on the floor and stand up without using their hands or arms. They run like the wind. Their hair is healthy and shiny, and their faces telegraph what they may look like in half a dozen years.

In effect, you can look at an eleven-year-old girl and pretty well imagine what she’ll look like when she’s sixteen, and almost ripe.

And for men, it’s that imagined ripeness that is attractive. They don’t want to bang the eleven-year-old. They want to bang the sixteen-year-old they can see she’s going to become. Think of it like walking into a house where dinner is cooking, and it smells so delicious you want to eat right then and there. But it isn’t finished cooking yet, so you get chased out of the kitchen.

And the truth is that if you did eat right then ... you wouldn’t be happy with it. It would not meet your expectations. But it smells so good, it almost overpowers your common sense.

So it isn’t at all unusual for a firmly non-pedophile to observe the promise that shines forth in a young girl. Nor is it perverted for him to appreciate, in his mind, that her future holds many a lusty, lustful man, trying desperately to get into her panties.

And that attitude - of imagining a woman’s potential as a sexual partner - lasts almost forever. Go to a wedding, where the bride is all dolled up in white, to proclaim and emphasize her innocence ... her lack of sexual experience ... and just about every man present will imagine in his mind being on the honeymoon to come, and making that “girl” squeal.

At least that’s what my male friends all tell me.

Of course we didn’t know all that back then, when Shannon and I were eleven, and had no thoughts about sex at all, really. Well, I suppose there was some curiosity about it, but it was really vague and insubstantial. It wasn’t like we were eager to find out what sex was like or anything.

But that would change. And it would change much sooner than we would have imagined.

That needs to wait, though, until the appropriate time. Which is not now. Right now you need to know what happened after we heard our mother and Uncle Bob arguing about whether or not he was allowed to lust after Shannon and me.

They stopped talking, and all three of us kids leaned fractionally closer to the crack in the door, trying to listen. I heard wet smacking noises that I knew were produced when they kissed. I’d heard those noises hundreds of times.

I think it was Brinn who pushed the door open a little more. I don’t know if he intended to, or if his head just hit the door and it opened a little. But it did open a little more.

And then it opened a little more again.

And suddenly we could see them. Well I could, so I assume Shannon could too. Brinn’s face was right in the opening of the door, so I know he could see them. He was stooped over a little and I was looking right over the top of his head.

Mom was just lying back on the bed, putting some pillows under her head. Her legs were spread wide. Uncle Bob was on his hands and knees, crawling between those wide spread legs. He leaned his head down to kiss her tummy, and then sort of slid his lips up to her left breast. He opened his mouth, and then he closed it around the tip of that breast and his cheeks hollowed out, and I realized he was sucking.

That was new. I had seen him touch her all over before, including her breasts, but he had never put his mouth on them. And the way she arched her back and closed her eyes and grinned made it really clear that she liked him sucking her there. It was amazing. He switched breasts and did the same thing to the other one and she arched her back and put her hands on the back of his head.

“I need you now,” she moaned.

He stood up on his knees and knee-walked a little closer to her. His penis was sticking out straight in front of him, kind of angled up a little, and when he fell down, with his hands just under her armpits, that penis seemed to fall and land on her split.

I should mention here that Mom shaved. We didn’t know that then. All us women looked the same down there, and we thought that’s just how women looked. That probably had a little bit to do with why Uncle Bob thought we were sexy looking. I shave now, but it isn’t to look young. I do it because I like how it feels, and so do my lovers. But it does make a woman’s sexual organs look younger. Funny how we have all these mixed signals in this culture.

Anyway, his penis landed on her split and her hand came and grabbed it and moved it between her split and he pushed that long, hard penis inside her.

I know I gasped. At least I heard a gasp, and I felt the air rush into my lungs. Maybe the others gasped too, because it was loud. But at the same time my mother groaned and when she groaned I got the strangest feeling in my tummy. It was like something inside me turned over somehow. It felt delicious, but it was so strange that I didn’t know what to think. And in any case, I didn’t have time to think, because I was so shocked that that thing actually fit inside my mother. Yes, I know I told you we had seen it come out of her out by the swimming pool, but that was a surprise, and it had happened so fast it got foggy in my memory right away. But the time we could see it actually happen. And yes, I knew, academically, about how the penis goes in the vagina and all that, but the only thing that had ever been in my vagina was a tampon, and that was skinny. But when I had a tampon in, I felt stuffed. And Uncle Bob’s penis was five times bigger than a tampon. So I couldn’t believe it fit inside her. And yet that groan had been full of joy and happiness, and not pain. And then, he pulled it out, looking all slick and shiny and shoved it right back in hard enough to make Mom’s breasts jiggle and her whole body move a few inches, and she hissed, “Yessssssss,” and that thing that had turned over in my belly flip-flopped again.

There was more, much more, that first time we kids actually saw what “making love” actually meant. We were glued to the opening in that door and I know I couldn’t have moved if the house had been on fire.

At this point it becomes kind of a blur in my memory. I think my mind was overloaded or something, back then. The only other thing I remember was that at one point Uncle Bob was panting real loud and he said, “Is it safe?” and Mom groaned, “No!” and the next thing I knew he had pulled his penis out of her and it hung there, over her split, as it shot little strings of something white onto her stomach. And he was whining, and she was too, and neither of them sounded happy any more. Except that they did, somehow.

It was all very strange.

And then Mom turned her head and saw all three of our faces in that open doorway.

Her mouth opened, but by then we were already almost knocking each other over trying to back up from the door. The paralysis was gone, and we tore out of there. We went to our room, for some reason, and for the first time in a long time, Brinn closed the door. I know it was Brinn, because when he turned around, his eyes wide, and he stared at us ... his penis was hard.

I know that it’s already been pointed out that Brinn got erections back then. But Shannon and I had never seen one of them. At least I hadn’t. I wasn’t looking at her, to see if she looked surprised. I was looking at Brinn’s erection. It looked pretty much like Uncle Bob’s, except in miniature. And it didn’t point upwards. It just stuck straight out. He was just beginning to have a discernible lump of something in his ball sack, which had just been a smooth pouch of skin before this. In the next year it would turn into something that looked like it could hold a walnut, but it wasn’t there just yet. Still, it was obvious he was hard. The foreskin looked funny because it stuck off the end of his penis like ... I don’t know what. Maybe if you took a sock and cut the toe off, and then slid it onto something round. Except the sock was too long, so the end of it pooched off the end. It looked funny. Not laughing funny. More like weird funny. Which was why I wondered why I had the urge to reach out and touch it.

Nobody said anything. We just stood there. I know this sounds like an overreaction, considering that we’d seen them smooching a hundred times, and seen them making love too. We just hadn’t known they were making love. That’s why Brinn asked them if they were having sex that time. We were just making the connection between what we’d been seeing, and things we’d heard about, but weren’t really familiar with.

Except that now we were familiar with it. We’d just seen exactly what it meant to “have sex” or “make love.”

And we didn’t get a chance to talk about it either, because the door opened, slamming into Brinn’s backside, and knocking him towards us.

Mom stuck her head through the open door and looked around it.

“Sorry,” she said. I think it was an automatic apology.

She came on in. She was naked, as usual, but for some reason it seemed different. I looked at her nipples, which looked completely normal, even though Uncle Bob had been sucking on them. I guess I expected them to look different. And then I looked at her split, and other than being a little redder, maybe, that looked normal too. I said her split looked the same as ours, but there was a difference, actually. Hers had some extra skin hanging down a little bit between the same puffy lips Shannon and I had. Sometimes it hung down farther than others, and sometimes it was thicker. It was that way now, thick, and hanging down further, and darker colored.

“Are you guys okay?” she asked.

That seemed like a strange question. We were expecting to be yelled at. I know I was, anyway. But a lot of strange things had been happening lately, so this was just one more.

“You shouldn’t spy,” she said. “It’s not polite.”

We just stood there. I don’t think any of us had any idea what to say or do.

“We won’t do it again,” said Brinn, suddenly.

She looked at him, and I saw her eyes dip downwards. My eyes did the same thing. He was still hard.

“Oh my,” said our mother.

She turned around and left. Just like that.

We still didn’t move. We were still standing there when Uncle Bob came in. He was still naked too, and for some reason I looked at his penis. It looked normal now, kind of shriveled up, and lying there on top of his ball sack. He had a really big ball sack, that had brown hair poking out from it all over the place, like a bird’s nest or something. He looked at Brinn, and said, “Come with me, Sport. We have to have a little talk.”

Brinn left with Uncle Bob, and Mom came back in. She went to the bed we all shared and sat down on it.

“Oh boy,” she sighed. “What a mess.”

I think Shannon might have been freaked out. I told you she was a drama queen, right? And when she got all wound up about something, she could get pretty weird. She did that now.

“We just cleaned our room, Mom!” she shouted.

Mom blinked, and looked at Shannon, whose face was red.

“That’s not what I meant, honey,” she said.

“I’m confused,” said Shannon.

“I can imagine,” said Mom. Then she shrugged. “I guess it had to happen sooner or later. I just hoped it would be later.”

“I’m confused too,” I said. And I really was confused. All those things I’d heard them talking about were whirling around in my mind like leaves in a tornado. I couldn’t concentrate on any one thing, because it was moving too fast, and something else kept getting in the way.

“Maybe I can help,” said Mom.

And, over the next half hour, our mother went over everything we’d seen, and explained what was happening, and what it had all meant.

To say our world expanded that day is an understatement on par with saying that if you fall out of a tree it might hurt. But at the same time, having all those blanks filled in was really liberating too. Understanding what had happened made it seem less weird, somehow. And knowing that someday, we would do the same thing with some man wasn’t scary or weird or anything like that. It was really on the same level as knowing we’d get a driver’s license some day, or go shopping by ourselves someday. It was exciting, but not all that hard to wait for. You know?

Of course we didn’t actually understand it all. Not really. It’s impossible to truly understand that kind of love without experiencing it for yourself. But we thought we understood, and that made us feel better about everything. You’ve heard the term “Fat, dumb and happy” before, right? That’s what we were at that point.

Once she was finished, and we didn’t have any more questions for her, she got up, looking tired.