I will write a lot about myself – beginning with certain of my personal experiences from what I recall as a very young child, and moving through my earlier years to the present. It’s essentially about my sexual world. I need to tell this story, for myself and for anyone else who finds it relevant. It’s important to say this: Children are ‘alone’ in many ways. This makes them open to many types of abuse, from adults and from other children.
I say this, as a cautionary point: When I was a child, the people who loved me and whom I loved and trusted, and to whom I was so close – seemed to know pretty much nothing about what was really going on for me. We may as well have been on separate planets. Actually, it is almost as if we were different species! And it isn’t just me – it’s all kids – or surely most of them! Looking back now, it’s rather startling how so few adults really connect to the children they care for, even though they might think they do! Really, most adults have no idea what is happening with kids. Children have a very secret inner life; there are precious few adults who enter into it, ever.
To be clear, I am not doing a complete of everything about me, so this isn’t an autobiography, or any such thing. It is a confession of sorts, a cathartic pouring out of many of my innermost thoughts and feelings, opening my heart and soul about some very private places, very sensitive, often painful areas, which I have not dared to look at this closely before now. It’s about things I thought were far from my present world, yet they have imposed themselves into my life at this time; there is no way to avoid them.
So everything I write here will be a pure, simple, direct, intimate account of certain things I feel are important for me to re-visit. It’s also, I guess, ‘an open book’, for any one of you, the readers, to look at and reflect upon, to recount and review your own experiences, and to consider and comment on anything at all, for whatever reasons may help any of us to understand any of it, for my sake or yours. I feel very strongly that there are memories of mine that others are going to be able to relate to. Some of this journey is sure to be very painful and I can say that it already has been. I have wept and agonized over much of it, and there will be many more tears; I know that for certain.
Patty McC.
When I was a kid in Canada, we went to stay in ‘the country’ every summer. All the ‘dads’ stayed in the city and worked and all the ‘women and children’ went to the country so we could go swimming in lakes and pick wild berries and just have a great time. We rented a place from a farmer, just a big old farm house – it was very cheap, and we stayed for two months. And there were other families there of course and all the kids played together. I had one friend who was about a year or so older than me. She was Irish and had long red hair which she wore in two fat braids, light blue eyes and soft brown freckles everywhere. Her name was Patty McC. Her dad was a cop. A sergeant – a big heavy man! She was only about a year older, but a lot bigger and stronger than me (I was a wimp!) and her dad was a cop, so I was scared of her anyway. (I guess I just said that her dad was a cop twice – but it was a big deal!)
Anyway, Patty liked me and we played together, going swimming and wandering around the farm and watching the cows, poking cow pies with sticks and watching out for the bulls, and whatever struck our fancy – or Patty’s fancy actually!
We used to go into this huge barn-like building called ‘the ice house’ – it had giant blocks of ice in it all covered with heaps of sawdust. Even though it was quite hot outside, it was much cooler in there. Patty had a little game we played. She was my doctor and I was the patient. She had some little jars of ointment and she would have me lie down and she’d examine me… and the way it always turned out was that I had to have her put ‘medicine’ on my vulva and in my butt – I was 10 going on 11 and I had not really started puberty, no period yet. I had just the slightest swelling at my nipples. Nothing else! And she would put her finger in this funny shaped ointment jar – it was very smelly like menthol – it was called Tiger Balm. Then she’d touch my hairless little vulva and rub it between the folds …and oh, that stuff burned! She’d put a very tiny dab of it on her middle finger and stick it into my butt and I would really squirm and scream and thought I would die of the burning feeling for a long time, but she had no problem with me suffering at all. In a very matter of fact voice, she would say, “It’s medicine; it’s gotta hurt to make you better.”
Well, I can fully attest that it did hurt a lot! It burned like fire, for about an hour afterwards, but that’s how that went! I always tried to sit on the big hunks of ice to soothe my parts. That was one game we played that year. Of course, nobody’s parents had a clue of what went on with all of us kids. Nobody knew where we went or who we were with or what we did all day long, so Patty McC was in charge of me all summer. Whenever she came to our house and asked me to play, I always went, because I was really kind of afraid not to do what she wanted. She was tough and got mad easily and would smack anyone in a second if she felt like it. So I tried not to get her mad.
The other thing that I didn’t understand till I got older is this story:
The next summer, I was 11, and I did have a few tiny hairs on my pussy and my breasts were a little fuller but still no period. Patty was 12, nearly 13. And we went right back to summer games, she was still the doctor, but this year she also had little jars of Vaseline or cold cream, and if she decided I needed ‘medicine’ she also had an extra ‘treatment: she had me open my legs and she had a little paintbrush with a short handle – kind of like a make-up brush. And she dipped the brush into the little jar and ‘painted’ my pussy parts, so they wouldn’t be so sore. That part felt pretty nice….the soft brush bristles were caressing and soothing and made my parts feel tingly and quivering hot – in a good way… a way I came to like a whole lot…
One night she asked me to sleep over at her house. Again – her dad was a COP, so there were no arguments with Patty- ever! My mother had no problem with me sleeping there, as it was only two houses away. So I got some clothes, and went to Patty’s house. We all had dinner and it was light outside still, so we played in a big army hammock they had, and chased fireflies and just did whatever came into our heads till it got really dark and that was pretty late, maybe 10 pm, in the Northern part of the continent.
At night, we lay down on her bed together. We talked for awhile and then I fell asleep, lying on my right side with my back toward her. Somehow, during the night I became vaguely aware of a hand softly touching my buttocks and slipping between my thighs from behind. I was so sleepy, I felt I must be dreaming.
The hand moved further and I shifted a little and sank back into sleep, or tried to. I was very groggy, but the feeling was so very pleasant – so I just let that delicate sensation spread over my pussy and thighs and I felt it inside my belly. I relaxed into it, dreamy and allowing. But suddenly I was startled and kind of woke up, and I felt my stomach tighten slightly … I realized something different was happening… I felt soft caresses on the outer lips of my vulva, back and forth…
Then, just very slowly, those exploring fingers began touching me inside, between the folds. I was still so sleepy, but I succumbed to how wonderful it felt. I let myself snuggle into the bedding and closed my eyes again, easing into that feeling. In my very relaxed sleepy state, it made me tingle all over and I didn’t care who or what was doing it – I loved it and I was going to let it happen. I felt hot wet juices start up, inside me, which had not ever happened to me before like that.
I had been touched by so many men (yes, molested) but I’d never felt this before – a delicious, hot, wet, slippery juicy sensation – I had been too young. Until now.
I really felt excited, intensely wanting it to continue, and I knew it was Patty, but I kept my eyes shut tight, and pretended to still be ‘sleeping’. She kept caressing me and then rolled her fingers over the little hard bump that was my clitoris which actually made my body jerk. She kept on doing it and I started to moan; I was definitely aroused. I surely did not want it to stop. I started moving back and forth to meet her touches. She clearly knew I was responding fully. Suddenly my whole body convulsed in an explosion of pleasure.
That was the first time I had an orgasm. I did not know what it was at all but I knew I wanted more of it! FYI, I never considered it a lesbian experience – it was ‘kids’ still — but looking back – oh yeah – whatever it was, it was a real thing.
Lettie
Lettie hated boys and men, especially men. With a vengeance. She told me, “All men are disgusting. We’re gonna smash them right in the balls. It’s really easy, I’ll show you.”
Lettie had a mission: she was going to grab and crushingly squeeze the balls of any man she should get close enough to do it to. She told me that her father had touched her for years and she hated him and she knew without a doubt that all men were hateful. She hated her mother too, for not stopping it, as she was sure her mother was aware. So, we did go on ‘patrol’, Lettie and I, and as far as I know, she did not do this with any other friends – just me. This was the deal: we would get specially ‘dressed up’ in what we felt were sexy clothes and sashay around the street, going along Parklane Avenue, a main traffic road in the city. We often put on some high-heeled shoes we got from our mother’s closets and stuffed Kleenex into the toes and we also stuffed Kleenex into our bras, to make our young titties look ‘bigger’. We put on heavy red lipstick and a coat of shiny Vaseline on our lips. For all I know, we looked like underage whores!
Feeling super-sexy, we’d walk along the business area, where many people were on the sidewalks, shopping, going to restaurants and stores. Lettie and I would walk arm in arm, swaying our hips and laughing gaily. If we saw a lone man coming opposite us on the sidewalk, we’d sort of split up and walk as if we’d go around on both sides of him.
The men seemed to like seeing two pretty young girls going ‘around’ them and usually smiled at us. Then Lettie would make a fist and walk right into the man, smashing her fist into his crotch, grabbing his balls and squeezing as hard as she could! This obviously was quite a terrible moment for any man! Especially since we both were so young and both of us were pretty, and we had been walking so provocatively, which had made him look at us in the first place. Lettie and I would then laugh our heads off about this victory of ‘justice’ over the ‘disgusting men’ of the world.
My friend Lettie had taken over all sorts of things in my life. She was always highly critical of how I dressed, looked, moved and acted. She showed me how to put lipstick on and how, if I didn’t have any lipstick, to pinch my cheeks and bite my lips to make them pink so as to look prettier. She had plans for me. Lettie really hated men, and I was going to be her pupil in finding ways to hurt any man who came close enough.
The whole and sole point was always to learn, practice and use ‘tricks’ in order to be more diabolical with boys and men so as to entice them, and to be able later to do something degrading, insulting or simply to punish them in any way possible, just for being male. The method was to excite them and then cause them pain, to torment them, by teasing and toying with them, but never really ‘falling in love’, never, ever being in their power. I guess she had a kind of ‘Carmen’ syndrome, really. Or, maybe a budding dominatrix?
She tried her best. She really did, but in the end I just didn’t have the ‘balls’ for it. Yes, I was indeed ‘naturally’ sexy, but I was still just me – who loved being female and who truly liked men and boys. You see, I was simply thrilled to be able to make men notice me. Oh, there was no question that I loved being a bit of a tease – I so much loved that bit of power and I enjoyed and craved the attention from males in every way!
But I never, ever wanted to hurt them, like Lettie absolutely did. No, no, no! I was simply far too attracted to them and far too empathetic to what might hurt anyone else and I just could not ever see all males as bad or any such thing. However, I surely did want to make them desire me and I also really wanted them to do things to me; and I found I could easily learn and practice all those charming ways and wiles and accomplish that.
Oh, yes! I loved being alluring – Lettie could see that I was a natural at it, and of course, I still am. But she carefully instructed me anyway… so, some of Lettie’s methods stuck with me. But there’s no doubt in my mind that my own yearnings and my own natural sensuality were always dominant in my behavior, as they still are. Yet I also believe I learned quite a few tricks from her.
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