So, recently, I had a reader trying a naughty cyber with me where he was being naughty with me on the bus. It made me think of the situation, but I imagine it different.
I was such a good girl. Always got straight A's. Tried my best to make my mom and dad happy. Left the boys alone. Catholic school honor roll. Best in high school.
I was.
On the bus, riding to the library. My parents don't let me use the computer. They refuse to give me a phone. I don't mind. I am a good girl.
I watched out the window when you sat down. Why did you sit next to me? A man, close.
My father told me about you men. How you will hurt good little girls. Be mean to them. Only want one thing. One evil, wicked, naughty thing. I didn't understand what that was, I just knew on faith of my daddy's words.
I looked away from the window, watching the city roll by, and glanced at you, only to look away again. Quickly. That strange expression on your face. Your eyes not looking in mine. Why are you sitting next to me? The expression I don't quite understand upon your face.
I am just a good little girl.
I watched you, out of the corner of my eye. I don't understand you. A puzzle. A look.
I saw your hand rub the front of your pants. Why do your pants bulge like that? I don't understand.
"Boys will hurt you. They have wicked parts, that they will try to hurt you with. Never let a boy touch you. They are evil."
"But daddy, I don't understand. You are a boy."
"But your father isn't like other boys. He is a good boy. We went to Sunday school together, camp together. Our parents were good friends, and both families agreed that we would make a great couple."
"Yes, and I loved your mother. But I knew about the wickedness from Satan. And I pray to the lord to overcome and be a good person, not giving in to my wicked nature. Most men don't."
"I understand," I said to them, although I didn't, not completely. But, the message gets through if told often enough. I eventually understood, and stayed away from boys. I had a couple friends who were boys, but they were in my church. Most I avoided. Boys were wicked. They pulled my hair when I was younger, and called me named when I was older. Like prude.
Why did you sit down next to me? A wicked man.
Your hand rubbed the bulge hard. What is that? What is down your pants? A cat? Why are you rubbing it?
Maybe you are hurt, and swollen up.
"Get out!" my dad screamed.
Oops. He was changing. But, I have seen a butt before. I have one of my own. Why would he yell like that? I guess it was me being bad. I knew better than to go in their room without knocking. But it was so unfair. Why didn't he close the door if he didn't want me to come in?
He stepped out, having finished dressing. "Sorry for yelling, but you should knock first." He sighed. "Honey, do you understand why I was upset?"
I shook my head no. My dad was kind, if strict. "Because a girl should never look at a boy with no clothes. It is wicked." He liked that word, wicked. I guess other people might find it strange, but I was used to it, and understood.
"You are not allowed to look at boys with no clothes on until you are married. And then only your husband." My face screwed up. Me, married? Eww. Boys were icky, and wicked. Why would I ever want to marry one?
"That way lies lust, and temptation. That way lies the devil. 'And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil' You know what will happen if you let the devil get you, right?"
I gulped, shook my head yes. He would take my skin off. He would stab me and rip out my eyes, use them for his dice. He would burn me, forever and ever and ever. His demons would hurt me, whip me, torture me. Do unspeakable things. I was not sure what they were, but my mommy made sure I knew they were scary.
He nodded, seeing I understood. "I am sorry daddy. I will not look at any boys with no clothes on."
I watched you rub your pants out of the corner of my eye. I understand aches and pains. I understand Eve's burden. Every month it happens. I cramp. I hurt. But that is where your naughty parts are. You shouldn't rub in public. What if someone saw you? Why couldn't I stop watching, out of the corner of my eye?
Your hand reached over and took mine. My throat closed up in panic. A man, touching me. Was he going to hurt me? Stranger danger. But I couldn't scream through my panic.
Your hand took mine, put in on the bulge. My skin felt hot. Why did it feel hot? I looked at myself in the window reflection. My skin was all red.
You moved my hand, rubbing where you rubbed. As my wits gathered, I pulled my hand away. I am a good girl. I don't touch men. Especially not there.
You rubbed more, as I watched out of the corner of my eye.
You other hand reached back over, placed on my knee. My skirt kept it from touching my skin, but it still felt hot.
You rubbed my knee as your other hand kept rubbing your pants. You moved closer, pressing up against me. Too close. You shouldn't be that close. The seat had lots of room, so why were you so close?
Your hand reached down, undoing your zipper. I saw a flash of white, your underwear. This time I knew I was blushing. You should never show your underwear in public.
"Don't you look away while I am talking to you." My head suddenly rang, my mother's slap hard on my 8 year old cheek. "What do you think you were doing?"
I looked back in her eyes, tears welling up. "But mommy, I was just playing on the bars."
I didn't understand why she was so mad.
"You were upside down! With your skirt around your waist, showing everyone your underwear!"
I looked away again, and felt another sting as she slapped me again.
"You wait until I tell your dad that you were showing your underwear to everyone on the playground," she growled.
I panicked. "Don't tell daddy," I pleaded. "I won't do it again."
She looked me in the eye, and some of the anger left her. "I won't tell him, this time. But, if I ever see you showing your underwear to anyone again, I will tell him. Promise me you won't do that again."
I nodded, and she seemed satisfied. From that moment on, I knew that I should never let anyone see my underwear.
You reached into your pants and continued rubbing the swollen...whatever. I would have felt sorrier for you if you weren't still rubbing my knee. Jesus wants us to help our fellow man, to treat them with kindness.
You took your hand out and took my hand again, pushed it more firmly against your pants, unzipped, showing your underwear. I looked at your face, and the expression was unusual, and intimidated me. This time I kept my hand there, and tried rubbing like you did. Your face looked excited. I looked down at my hand and focused on rubbing. Poor you. I had to make you stop hurting. But, I was scared. I shouldn't touch a man. I was torn, and kept it up in my confusion.
Your hand pulled my skirt, raising it from midway down my calf to my knee, above. Your touch on my bare knee was electric. I stopped rubbing, I was paralyzed. Your hand was rough, warm. A bit like my daddy's. Maybe you knew my daddy. Maybe that is why you sat next to me. But, I had never seen you. So if you knew my daddy, why didn't I know you?
Your hand moved to the inside of my knee. I tried to put my knees together, but your hand kept them separated. They moved up slightly, squeezing me, your hand closing, then opening.
I was 6. I had walked into my parents room,and saw them, doing something. No clothes on, they were twisting this way and that way. They didn't notice me. I saw mommy, bouncing up and down. It looked like fun. But, daddy was on his back, laying there. I couldn't see clearly in the dark, but it was like when I would play horse with daddy, only backwards. I would sit on his back, and he would move around the house on his hands and knees. Maybe they were playing horse. I wanted to play too.
Daddy looked over, and saw me in front of the door. "Get back to bed!" he roared. My heart jumped, and I ran back to my room. I curled up in a ball and closed my eyes tight.
My mom and dad came into my room a few minutes later, standing at the door. "Don't you dare get out of bed again." They closed the door and left. I covered myself with the blanket. The scary monsters couldn't get me if they didn't see me. I wish I could sleep with mommy and daddy. Maybe play horse like mommy was.
Your hand moved mid-thigh. I breathed heavily. I knew I shouldn't let you touch me there, but I was afraid. What would happen if I tried to stop you? Anyways, everyone was around us on the bus, so I knew you wouldn't do anything bad.
You shoved my hand in your pants. I could feel your underwear. Slightly damp. A slight smell, coming from there. I rubbed. It felt like you had a hotdog inside your pants. My fingers explored a little as they rubbed, trying to understand the shape. You didn't stop me, you just continued to rub the inside of my thigh.
It felt hot there. So hot. For some reason, my down there started feeling hot as I felt it, trying to figure out what it was. Heat in your pants. Heat between my legs.
You pulled my hand out, and reached inside yourself. You pulled your underwear down. I watched, seeing your skin. Seeing you. What was it? Your down there. All veins and ridges. All swollen and red at the top. Almost purple. Now I knew why you kept rubbing. It looked so painful. Did something break and swell?
"It was a serious break, but it will heal with no last effects. She will just need to take it easy with that leg for a while. In two weeks, we can see about getting her a walking cast, but until then, she needs to stay off it."
My parents nodded to the doctor, but kept shooting glares at me. When the doctor finished giving them instructions and left the room, my parents exploded.
"What were you doing on the roof young lady?"
"Sally told me I couldn't, and teased me. She kept looking down from the roof and saying I was scared."
"I don't care what Sally said. You know better than to do things like that! Has the devil gotten into you girl? I will beat him right out if he has." I knew it was no empty threat.
The skin around the break was red and purple, bruised. It looked similar to the top of your, whatever. Poor man. But still, you shouldn't take things out of your pants. Someone might see your naughty parts.
Still unsure what it was, I kept my hand back. My leg hurt when it was touched, so I thought it would hurt you to touch. You took my hand anyways and put it right on top, then moved it up and down.
I rubbed, unsure what I should do, but knowing I still shouldn't touch you, a wicked man. But I didn't know what else to do, so I continued. Like rubbing a table surface, hand flat, I pushed down slightly. Slowly. Your hand moved further up my leg. Almost to my underwear.
My hand rubbed harder, faster, although I don't know why. I saw a wince from your face, and stopped.
You wrapped my finders around it, and moved them up and down. Like when I would polish the candle holders at church. Squeeze my hand, pull up, push down. It is so hot. Like you were on fire. Were you the devil?
You adjusted my grip, the way I moved my hand, once, twice, three times, then sat still, your hand pausing on my thigh. A new look overcame your face. This seemed to have made you feel better.
Your hand continued, then moved up, touching my underwear. My insides curdled. I felt like I was going to be sick. I couldn't move. My hand stopped. My mind froze. You were touching my underwear. You shouldn't touch my underwear. Why wasn't I stopping you? Why was I frozen?
Once I could move again, I tried to push your hand away. You were so strong. I couldn't move it. I was scared. I didn't want you to hurt me.
Your hand caressed my skin, the edge of my underwear, where the two meet. My hand pulled up and down, no rhythm, inconsistent. You leaned over, your lips brushing my ear. I froze again.
My butt hurt so bad I couldn't even sit down. "What have I told you about boys?" my dad asked.
"Not to let them touch me," I mumbled through tears and hiccoughs.
"I can't hear you." he growled at me in warning.
This time I spoke up. "Not to let them touch me."
"So why were you caught on the playground, kissing Tom?"
"I'm sorry dad. He told me it was fun. It seemed like fun."
"'Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry.' The bible tells us that it is wicked. It is impure. Is it immoral. I have warned you about boys. Your mom has warned you about boys. You are a wicked daughter. Now bend over."
I bent over, and his belt struck me again. Again. My sobbing renewed. It was a wicked thing, kissing a boy. It was evil desire, and immoral. We had to be stronger than that, and stop the devil from tempting us into that behavior. I deserved to be punished. Otherwise, I would let the devil get me.
"For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God." He continued quoting scripture I had violated when I kissed the boy I liked while the belt continued slapping across my butt.
Your mouth met my ear, not brushing it, but kissing it. I felt tingles run through my body, sparks blossom from your kisses. My hand continued rubbing as you took my ear in your mouth. Your other hand, freed from comforting your red and purple, angry, thing, came to my stomach as your other continued tracing my skin and underwear, exploring where they met.
You moved on from there, kissing my jawbone, kissing my cheek. Your hand moved from my stomach to my chin, pulling me around until I was looking into your eyes. Your lips touched mine.
Stunned, suddenly at a loss of breath, I didn't know what to do. Your lips were parted, while mine were closed. I could feel your tongue push against my lips, trying to get between them. I held them firmly closed. This was too much. I took my hands away, and refused to keep trying to comfort me while you tried to do something so wicked.
But, I also knew men liked to hurt girls. If I fought you, you might hurt me. But, all these other people around, surely you wouldn't try to hurt me. I didn't know what to do, so I just sat there, letting you kiss me. Maybe you were the devil.
You lifted my skirt more, exposing my underwear. I tried to pull it down, but gave up, seeing the futility of it. I hoped no one would see my exposed underwear. You shouldn't be showing them. Why couldn't I seem to stop you?
Your fingers pressed against the fabric, pressure put on my down there. I felt so hot. My down there felt like it was wet. I didn't understand. You press harder. I know what is down there, but I don't touch it, except to wash it.
My mother opened the bathroom door.
"Are you okay? I thought I heard something."
My moan drifted out. She looked at me through the mirror. In our house, we didn't even look at each other when we had no clothes on.
"What are you doing!?" She looked at me. I could feel her eyes on me, with my hands between my legs. I felt so hot down there. I don't know why I started, but I felt I needed to do something. My fingers were rubbing myself, the two folds of skin slightly parted. I pushed them in a couple times before my mother came in. She stepped over and grabbed my arm, pulling my hand away from my lower area. "Why would you touch yourself down there?" She screeched. I blushed like the sunset. "The devil has gotten into you!" She pulled me out of the bathtub, grabbing my arm. It felt like she was about to rip it out of the socket.
"But mom, I felt so..."
She cut me off. "I don't care what you felt. You don't do that!" She dragged me into the living room. I stood there, dropping water, naked, in front of my dad. She told him what I was doing.
He took me and pushed me down over his knee. His hand slapped my butt, hard, again, again, again.
"Father,
hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
your will be done,
on earth, as it is in heaven.
Give us each day our daily bread,
and forgive us our sins
for we ourselves forgive everyone who is indebted to us.
And lead us not into temptation."
He said it over and over as he spanked me. My butt was bright red. I sobbed and cried and screamed, begging him to stop. I wasn't sure if I would die from the spanking, or from the humiliation of being in front of my parents with no clothes on. Eventually, he stopped spanking, and I had a long time to think about what I had done as I said my Lord's Prayer and Hail Mary. I wondered if Jesus would forgive me for giving into my lustful nature.
I sat there, paralyzed, as you rubbed harder. Almost pushing your fingers inside me through my underwear. My skirt was above my panties now, and your, that, was sitting there untouched, you were so focused on kissing my lips and rubbing my that.
I felt the heat I had on that previous day. Like I needed something. But inside, I was screaming. I was chanting. I was saying the Lord's Prayer over and over, trying to forget where I was, and what was happening to me. But, why did it feel so...right? Why did my body feel so good? Then again, my parents always told me that the devil had the sweetest lies.
After a while, a realization came over me. It wasn't hurting. My parents told me so many times men liked to hurt girls. But it felt wonderful, not painful. My body and mind were at war, mixed messages, leaving me still for whatever you wanted to do to me.
Your fingers went to the edge of the fabric of my underwear. Then, pushed it aside. Goose bumps rolled over me as your fingers met me there. In the place that was washed, but not touched. You gently stroked the outer part, fingers running through the hair, and over the skin. So sensitive. My mind was numb. I was open to your touch.
You pushed against the skin firmer. Firmer. Finally, your fingers pushed inside me, a slightly wet sound. My insides spasmed, my mind rebelled. I pushed at your arm, but it wouldn't budge. My throat locked tight.
Your fingers continued to push inside me, deeper. I looked in amazement as they disappeared.
"But mommy, Sally said I should use these," I told her while holding a box of tampons.
"Put that away. Do you want others to see you holding it? What kind of a girl will they think you are." She looked at the box of tampons in disgust. "Good girls don't use those, since you have to put them inside your naughty part."
I thought about it, and thought she must be right. But, Sally was my friend, and she said I should use them. That they would be better than pads. And Sally was a good girl. She got into more trouble than me, but she was still a good girl. But I could see my mom wasn't in the mood to talk about it, so I didn't bother asking.
I finally gave in, and let your tongue penetrate my lips. I watched your face as you closed your eyes and explored my mouth with your tongue. Your breath was of slightly old food, a little sickly sweet. While it wasn't unpleasant, it wasn't the worst thing ever. I wondered if this was what it was like to be a princess, like you see in all the cartoons. True loves kiss. But, I didn't love you. So why did I feel so dizzy?
You turned towards me, sitting slightly sideways, and pulled my hand back onto your thing. I didn't bother to resist, but didn't do anything. Your one hand pushed inside me and pulled back out as you continued a long exploration of my mouth. Your other hand reached up, palm pressed against my breasts, and your first two fingers pushed in my shirt, between my buttons.
Sometimes my skin pinched slightly between your fingers and the edge of my underwear, but it wasn't painful.
Undoing one of my buttons, you slipped your entire hand in, reaching inside my bra. You found my nipple, and rubbed it. Mouth, kissing, fingers, pushing inside, other fingers, rubbing and pinching. My body felt like it was on overdrive. My parents, always warning me that men wanted to hurt me. But this wasn't painful, it was blissful.
I will finish this up, but honestly, I need to take a break from it. Too much right now. As for those who are wondering, "is anyone this naive", yes. I had a friend once who one day asked me a "personal" question. Her boyfriend kept bugging her about kissing him. He couldn't understand why she wouldn't. After some gentle questions, I finally had the full picture. See, she had grown up in a very religious family, and her parents had kept her very sheltered. I found out she had been having sex with her bf and had been letting him play with her breasts, cum in her pussy, things like that. The strangest part is, she thought you got pregnant by kissing. She didn't understand sex. No, she wasn't young, she was my age. We had some long discussions about this. I think she came to me more because I was "the exotic foreign friend", and she was worried other Taiwanese would tease her. Plus, I was married, so I must know all the answers to boys. Anyways, yes, some people are this sheltered, and while the internet makes it less common, it still happens.
Anyways, I will try to finish this up later. Hope you like what I have so far.
