yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


When I was 7, I went to my first sleep over. I had stitches in my knee and worn clothes. I was excited to sleep over at someone�s house, away from my wrought iron bed and splintering plywood floorboards. My feet were always cold and I clung to my stuffed animals. But at my cousins house, nothing bad could happen. Her house was warm and huge. She was older, more knowledgeable about the world. My Aunt loved me, too. Aside from one incident involving a stapler and my finger nail, I stayed out of trouble. The first time I slept at my cousins, she held me like I was her child. She kissed me on the lips and filled me with warmth and sickness. I pushed her away and slept at the other end of the bed. She showed me what was between her legs and I showed her what was between mine. She told me that she put silly-putty between her legs and it felt really great, wet and cold. She put her fingers between my legs and I was surprised. She told me to brush my teeth because she wanted to kiss me and I did. She put her tongue in my mouth and explored my teeth and I was paralyzed. She touched my nipples and kissed them and told me to taste hers. I never said no thinking back now. I don�t know if I knew it was wrong at the time. She called it sex but I don�t remember her orgasms. I remember the way I thought she was beautiful though and thinking that I could never be as such. When I went home the next morning, I remember feeling ashamed. I remember her telling me that I could sleep over anytime but not to tell. This would continue for a few years. I don�t know if I hated it. I can only remember once asking to go home and it was midnight and she told me to stay in the fucking bed. Eventually it got to the point where I felt bad about myself and about what she was doing every time our parents were gone. I think she probably told my Aunt about what she�d done because I didn�t see her for years but sometimes someone will lean over me and smell just like she did. I blocked all of this out for quite a few years until I went to my Grandmothers in Belfast. My cousin and I had spent the summer in the ocean caves there and she�d pushed me up against a wall and fingered me a ton of times. Of course, fingering a seven year old does relatively little except make her hate being touched at all. Later, A friend of mine would tell me that I should fuck around with her in the third grade because she�d fucked around with my cousin. I felt older because I�d had my ears pierced and I would say okay and she would touch me and I would look at her days of the week underwear and her mother would find out. We only talked once again after that on the back of the bus in hushed tones. She told me we weren�t aloud to talk. I wasn�t sure what I�d done wrong. I still think about the confusion of our third grade lesbianism. I wonder if everyone has these experiences. I saw my old friend coming down the stairs today and I wondered if she remembered that it was a Thursday eight years ago that we�d laid under blankets on a basement couch.
d-land