Secrets

It's like a spell, a magic spell. So seductive and enticing, liquid gold. The lushest, juiciest, richest, deepest, highest. The moments you can't explain. The dream world that's reached into reality. It's been looking for you, and unless you hide really, really well, it will always find you.

I used to be an expert hider. If I was in my room reading, my parents would haul me out and make me do housework, so I'd take a book and find a nice quiet spot at the top of a tree, or in a cluster of bushes in the back garden. Often even then I would hear their voices, building up to the yell "...Tooooui...TOOOOOOUIIII...." And then I'd have to come out, and put my book away. So I started to go further, out of ear shot.

I'd take my book and walk up the hill, to the craggy cliff that overlooked the ocean. The view stretched for miles and I could lie in the wild grasses, hidden from view by shrubs and things, the sun on my face. For a while I would go to the barn near the milking shed, it was filled with hay bales, not round Canadian style, but proper rectangular blocks that were perfect for building forts. My best friend would come with me, I needed support because of the rats.

That's where our sex games started I think, our young bodies rubbing together, playacting sex. We'd take turns at stuffing socks or something in our panties, cock-like, but touching our clitoris. That person would play 'The Man' (usually based on one of our father's) and rub their sock-cock against the other one's pussy. In the game the father would always teach the daughter's best friend the ways of sex. This continued for several months. Then, out of the blue my friend said she wanted to stop playing the game. She said it was "yucky" and "against the bible." I agreed fervently, not wanting to seem like a weirdo, but inside I remember feeling disappointed. My fascination with the game had been based on the secrecy of it. The illicitness, the forbidden. I feel the same way when I do drugs. Disgusted at myself, but seduced by the darkness.