Chapter 1

I was raised in a backward religious community in north central Ohio. It was affiliated with 26 other groups around the country. They shared a common organization that controlled and set regulations for all the groups.

The men were required to wear long-sleeved shirts buttoned clear to the neck, long pants, and all in an approved limited number of colors.

The women wore dresses that were a specified number of inches above the ground and couldn't vary as much as a quarter of an inch shorter than that; ankle length for most of them. The dresses had to be home made and of a specified limited number of styles and colors.

They had to wear high-necked full slips made out of plain white sheets, with double layer cotton in the front and back so that the sunlight wouldn't show the shapes of their legs if it happened to be in the right position.

They had to wear seamed nylon stockings of a heavy weight, and of either one shade of off black or white. They finally agreed to permit off black pantyhose in the late 1980s when the last company manufacturing making the approved style closed.

We were not permitted radios or televisions, and record players were discouraged. Tape recorders were permitted as it was considered a method of recording indoctrination sessions and reinforcing the teachings. Telephones were permitted for the members instead of just for the pastors in the late 1970s, but their use was strictly regulated.

The children went to church schools so that they wouldn't come into contact with outside people any more than necessary. In fact, contact between people in the religious community was also strictly regulated outside of church and school. It was the policy of the group to have either a teacher or a preacher monitor any get together to ensure that nobody questioned any of the teachings, or doubt the validity of any statements that these "leaders" made.

Church was held three times a week, Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and midweek. There additionally were two or three week series of meetings twice a year, and then one week sessions of 4-5 meetings a day during spring and fall, and a ten day, 6 meeting a day, marathon in the summer. As you can see, life was simply a reason to support the church and re-indoctrination efforts.

My grandparents even had to get the preacher's permission when they wanted me to help them following their move from the farm.

Higher education was prohibited outside of the one church sponsored preacher and teacher training institute. The approved job lists for people was very small. It was almost non-existent for women. Unmarried women were allowed to work in housecleaning, and married women who had children weren't allowed to work outside of the home.

While many people confused us with our Amish and Mennonite neighbors, there were a few distinguishing factors. We were allowed to drive cars of a limited number of colors and styles. The men of our community were not allowed to wear any type of facial hair. The women didn't have to wear prayer coverings all the time, but were expected to wear hats at church.

And that, my friends, was the setting in which I was raised. I will refer to the church as Reformed Orthodox Rastafarian, or ROR so that I will not offend anyone using a real name.

My mother's parents had gotten involved following their marriage and had raised all 10 of their children in this culture. Three of them followed them in this way; my mother, her oldest sister, and her youngest sister. The rest of the family had gone other ways.

My grandparents sold the farm the summer I was 14 years old, and moved to a rented farmhouse so that they could remain separate from the surrounding world, but would no longer have a farming responsibility. My aunt, mom's youngest sister, was sixteen and was the only child left at home.

My grandparents went to the pastor and got permission for me to stay with them for a few days to help settle them into the new house. After due consideration, he decided to allow this for a maximum of two weeks.

My parents had been injured in a car accident and were barely able to take care of themselves, and they felt that a few days away from their needs would be good for me and helpful to my grandparents. My grandparents and Aunt Naomi stopped at our house to pick me up on Monday morning. They had picked up the last load at the old house and were ready to start getting settled into the new place. We worked like dogs getting furniture placed in the proper rooms and getting it assembled. Grandma and Aunt Naomi did the cleaning, while Grandpa and I assembled, moved, and unpacked the critical boxes first.

We were exhausted by supper time; Grandma and Grandpa were almost zombies. They were in their middle seventies, after all. Naomi and I offered to do the dishes so they could bathe and go to bed.

Grandma said she would find some sheets so that I could sleep on the couch. Naomi told her that there was a cot in her room that I could sleep on since the couch was both covered with boxes and uncomfortable.

"Having him sleep in your room would be questionable."

"I've been taking care of him for years when he was little and since his parents got hurt, Mom. He used to sleep in my bed and that was alright; this cot is clear across the room."

Thank goodness for semi-senile people. "Well, alright, if you want to fix it for him, I'm exhausted." Grandma took her bath and Grandpa dozed while he waited for his turn. Grandma told us all goodnight when she was done then went into the bedroom and shut the door.

When my grandparents were done bathing and had gone to their bedroom, Aunt Naomi told me that she would finish up cleaning the kitchen and putting away the unpacked dishes the while I took my bath. She took me into her bedroom when I was done, and I helped her open the cot. It was actually some type of a rolling bed that folded up and could be rolled into a corner or a walk-in closet. We unfolded it and spread sheets and a thin blanket onto it. The pillow cases needed were found and the pillows placed in them.

I got out my suitcase and started rummaging in it while she was finishing getting the cot ready. "What are you looking for at this time of night?"

"I forgot to take clean shorts with me when I took my bath."

"You don't wear shorts to bed, do you?" she asked, and then continued, "You need to let your body air out instead of wearing clothes all the time. I sometimes sleep without anything on at all."

This was a stunning thought to a repressed teen who slept wearing shorts and a tee shirt under pajamas, but I decided to try her suggestion of only PJs. I felt half-naked when I took my robe off, but quickly became accustomed to the feeling. What I didn't realize until she later told me was that the fly kept buckling open as I moved around, giving her good looks at my package.

She decided that she was ready to take her bath. I started to leave the room, but she told me to just turn my back while she got undressed and I could stay in the room. I turned away from her and realized that I was facing the mirror in the chifferobe and could see everything she was doing. I kept my mouth shut and my eyes wide open as she got undressed. She rubbed her breasts and the marks where her bra straps were red on her skin when she was naked, and then slipped her robe on. Our eyes met in the mirror as she turned around before I quickly averted them to a safe location.

"You may turn around now," she told me. I decided that it was fine with me if she wanted to maintain the pretense that I hadn't seen anything.

She left to take her bath. I grabbed one of my dirty socks and started jerking off into it as soon as I heard the water running. It was still a relatively new experience, but I had found out the first few spurts would go anywhere, and the last ones would pool in my belly button right under the head of my penis if I didn't cover the end of my penis. Oh my, the wonderment of youth. I shot off 3 climaxes in a row, never even softening before I heard the water shut off.

She came back into the room and latched the door behind her. "They're both snoring so loud that I don't think anything can wake them." She went to an unpacked box beside the dresser and stated sorting through her nightgowns. "Do you have a tee shirt I can borrow? All of my things smell like they need to be aired out."

I got up and got her one of my old but clean ones. It was worn thin and had holes in it, but not bad enough for me to want to throw it away.

"I'll put it on if you turn around again." I turned around and peeked into the mirror. She was facing the mirror but studiously avoided looking at it. "All right, you can look now," she told me, and threw her robe on the bed. The tee shirt clung to her body like tape. "I forgot to dry myself before I put it on. I guess I will just have to air dry."

She sat on her bed, leaned against the headboard, and motioned for me to sit at the foot of the bed facing her. We visited for about an hour before she told me to get to bed. I went to my cot, got in and tried to settle down, but my mind was in overdrive.

She got up and put her robe on. "I've got to go to the bathroom," she said, as she slipped out of the bedroom, leaving the door open. My cot was at the far end of the room from where I could look out the door and down the hallway. I saw her stop at the door of the other bedroom and listened for minute or so before coming back into her bedroom. She closed the door and then I heard her lock it behind her. She walked toward her bed, turned a lighted wall decoration and her reading light on, and turned the rest of the lights off.

We talked softly for a while, and then she started telling me how hard I had worked and that she wanted to help my sore muscles. I protested that it wasn't that bad, but she came and sat down on the side of the cot. "Turn over; I'm going to rub your back." I rolled over as she rubbed some baby oil in her hands to warm it, and then started massaging my back. "Your top is in the way; take it off so that I don't get oil on it."

I briefly hesitated, but decided that things were way past worrying, so I took it off and lay down on my stomach. She stroked my lower back, nudging my PJ bottoms lower with each bump. She applied more oil, but dripped it from the bottle onto my lower back and exposed butt cheeks this time. She gave the bottle a little extra squeeze over my crack, and I felt it running down to my balls.

"Oops," she exclaimed, "I got too much, didn't I? I don't want it to soak into the bedding," then she slid her hand down my bottoms and started rubbing the oil into my skin. I never knew that I had erogenous zones where she was finding them.

She finally told me, "Just pull them down so I can do your legs." I would have done whatever she told me to do by this time. I slid them off and lay face down completely nude with only a slight hesitation. She massaged my legs and butt cheeks. She kept touching my butthole in the process. All I knew about it was that it was where things came out; I knew nothing about the sensory pleasures that could be had from that area.

"Roll over," she told me.

"I can't right now."

"If it's because you are hard, you are supposed to be hard. Roll over now." With my heart pounding in the back of my throat and my ears ringing, I turned over.

"Oh my," she exclaimed as her eyes got big, "You are a grown boy, aren't you?"

I was embarrassed and started to cover up, but she grabbed my hands. "Most men would be proud to be that big. How big are you?"

I don't know, I never measured it."

She grasped my penis with on hand around the base and the other hand on top of the first one as if she was holding a bat. About 2" extended past her hands.

I cautioned her, "Be careful it's about to shoot off."

"Good, what do I have to do to see that happen?"

I had her oil her hands again, and she started stroking and playing. She then started sliding her hands down from the tip to the base, hand over hand. It felt as if I were entering a never ending tunnel. I started bucking and trying to meet her hands. She just gripped me firmer and kept stroking.

"Here it comes," I gasped, as I started shooting off my first orgasm that wasn't self induced or the result of a wet dream. She bent over to watch when I warned her, and caught it full on her forehead and in her hair.

She just kept up until the head was too sensitive and I asked her to quit stroking it.

"Are you done, you're still hard?"

"For the moment, but I can come again if you keep playing."

She got a towel and wiped her face and hair, and then took my hand and placed it on her breast. "You can feel them if you want to," she told me, "I don't mind."

"You take your clothes off too," I told her. She shrugged and pulled the tee shirt off over her head, and then she stopped. She covered me up and put her robe on, then opened the door. She tiptoed down the hall way to listen at my grandparent's bedroom door. When she was satisfied that everything was still safe, she returned to the bedroom and relocked the door. She hung her robe over the door knob and came back to the cot."

"Bring your pillow and come to my bed; it will be more comfortable for you." She stopped and got a pair of panties out of her drawer and a bottle of alcohol from the top of the dresser, and put them on the bedside stand. "Would you like to check out a woman and see how everything looks and feels?"

I couldn't nod my head fast enough. Do dogs like meat, do kids like candy... ?

"Wash your hands with this alcohol first, I don't want to get pregnant." I poured a little in my palm and rubbed my hands together. She made me do it a second time, and then gave me the towel to dry them. She lay down on the bed and I sat on the edge.