How It All Began
Copyright 2016 by NAMB
all rights reserved
* * * *
story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced
spanking, and/or sexual activity of preteen and young teen children. This
is fantasy, and the
author in no way endorses or practices these things on real life.
If you are not of legal age in your community to read or
such material, please leave now.
* * * *
story is autobiographical. It is based on childhood memories. Some events I can
recall very clearly, some are vague memories and others are conjectures of what
could have happened to get from one island of memory to another. Some events
are fabricated, but nonetheless, there is more fact than fiction here.
to what I’ve read in reputable articles, many men develop their fetishes at a
very early age. This was certainly true for me. The fetish was already
established by the time I started grade school.
the characters in this story are real. Only their names have been changed. I
could see their faces and sense their personalities as I wrote this story.
of you who have been reading my Make a Boy Hard series may wonder about how the
rubber ball fetish began.
started with an event that happened when I was about 4 years old. I really
don’t remember a lot of things from back then, but this event managed to stay
in my mind.
was a trip to a public pool that did it. My mom and the woman next door, Mary,
were the leaders of this expedition, with them were Mary’s two daughters, Peggy
and Chrissie; my sister Becky and me and another boy and girl whose names I
can’t recall, possibly the twin niece and nephew of “Aunt” Mary.
Mary was of no relation to us, but we referred to her and her husband as aunt
and uncle anyway. Our dads were “war buddies” and everyone knew each other from
growing up on the Lower East Side of Manhattan during the Depression. They were
good family friends and our families did all kinds of things together including
vacations to the country.
was the oldest child in the group. At the time of the incident she was probably
about 8 years old. She was a tall girl and even after we all grew up; she was
still taller than most of us including some of the boys. At that age she
absolutely towered over the rest of us kids.
was a very nice girl, very nurturing and protective over us younger kids,
treating us in maternal fashion, I guess, as her younger brothers and sisters.
We all looked up to her (more than physically) and liked and respected her.
sister is two years older than me. That would make her about six years old at
the time. We got along fine as children. She wasn’t a bossy older sibling and I
was not a pesky little brother. We managed to stay out of each other’s lives
and stuff and even collaborated at times against the ‘rents. We have an
excellent relationship to this day.
was a bit older than me and when we got older and went to school, she was a
half grade ahead of me. Back then, the Catholic School grades in Brooklyn were
split: half the school graduated in December and the other half in June.
Eventually, they synced themselves up with the rest of the world.
really can’t tell you much about the other boy and girl other than they
appeared to be the same age as me or maybe a bit older.
trip to the pool was an adventure. It was not something we did frequently. For
me just getting there was part of the fun. It meant taking the subway.
a child, I liked trains. My favorite time of year was Christmas, not only
because of the impending arrival of Santa Clause, but also because that’s when
dad commandeered a corner of the living room (AKA, the “front room” since it
was the room that faced the street) and set up the train set. I would watch the
train set for hours even ignoring our recently-acquired television.
with my mom to go shopping or visiting often involved using the subway and I
enjoyed these a lot. As long as she could carry me over the turnstile or I
could walk under it, she could save a token and didn’t have to pay my fare.
was too big on this occasion and besides she was burdened down with bags full
of stuff for the pool. I remember that unlike the adults who could merely push
the turnstile with their mid sections I would have to put both hands on the
nearly head-high device to get through.
find it interesting to reflect what life was like back then: I was one of the
Lilliputians living in a world of Goliaths, dealing with items like turnstiles,
tables, chairs and steps built for the Titans. I thought nothing of and had no
fear of these tall lumbering creatures called adults.
was not beyond using my sister and me as additional pack mules. We were also
burdened down with what today would be called gym bags. Back then, kids did not
wear backpacks; backpacks were Army surplus and used only by hikers. We carried
our books in a satchel-like container called a “school bag.” These were
hand-crafted, canvas and leather affairs made by the shoemaker down the block.
of the things that made this trip so memorable was that part of it was on the
elevated line. I liked the el because there were things to see. I could look
out the window down into other people’s backyards. I remember seeing women
hanging out their wash or tending to children playing in the yard or dogs
barking at the passing train.
the holiday season, it was nice to see the cross streets done up with lights.
As a special treat, sometimes mom would take us to the first car where we could
look out the front window and see where the train was going.
wasn’t much, but it was the beginning of my life-long love of travel and
my sister and I get together we often go down memory lane together trying to
recall things from our childhood. It does help stir up the memories. She
recalls the pool too and even helped me put a name to it: the Cypress Hills
remember that the BMT train made two very sharp turns: one at Crescent Street
and the other onto Jamaica Avenue. The pool was nestled in the curve of the
second turn just before the Cypress Hills train stop. The elevated stop is
still there, but the pool is long gone. I remember looking down the wooden
platform of the station. There were light poles running down the middle. When a
train approached, the vibrations wiggled the platform and the light poles
swayed in an alternating pattern.
pool occupied almost an entire city block. It was basically a shell of a
building surrounding the pool. I suppose one side was offices and such, but the
upper level of the two-story structure was a series of dressing rooms. These
were small cube-like structures with a bench and some hooks to hang things on.
There was no door, merely a bedsheet pulled over the opening.
suppose there was a men’s and women’s side and when I think about it, they were
probably on opposite sides of the pool facing one another. I guess that would
be good enough incentive to keep the bedsheet drawn closed. My memory of the
overall layout is very sketchy. I am not sure how the dressing rooms were laid
out; but I clearly remember being in them.
was obviously on the women’s side. It made sense since our chaperones were
women. It was also confirmed by the cigarette burns and lipstick stains on the
bedsheet on our cube that I can still vividly recall seeing.
other boy and I were taken to one cube by Aunt Mary where she undressed us and
put us into our bathing suits. This was not at all embarrassing. Just about any
adult female was somebody’s mom and moms were, well, moms. It never occurred to
me that at one time they were girls. They were sort of like teachers: a
different species from us kids.
my mom and the girls were in another cube getting into their swimwear too. Of
course, we boys couldn’t witness them changing.
a couple of minutes, Peggy showed up with her sister. They were decked out for
the pool in their swimsuits and carrying bathing caps (all women and girls were
required to wear them in the pool). They apparently were there to relieve Aunt
Mary so she could go change in the girls’ cube.
wasn’t unusual for kids to be left in the care of older girls in our
neighborhood. I can’t ever recall kids being left in the care of older boys. I
don’t know whether this was because the adults didn’t trust the boys or they
deemed girls to be more responsible and better caretakers.
Aunt Mary left, Peggy reached out and lowered my swimsuit. Her sister did the
same with the other boy. I remember looking over at him and thinking, “Hey,
he’s got one too.”
pulled a rubber ball out of her bathing cap. She apparently brought it to play
with in the pool. It was brand new. I could tell by how clear the lettering was
on it and it had that new rubber ball smell to it. There was also a strong
smell of rubber from the bathing caps each of the girls were carrying.
is the most primal of senses. You literally have to take the molecules of whatever
you are smelling into your body and mingle them with your own cells to detect
the scent. All this happens with sensors almost embedded in the most primitive
part of the brain. Smell, or the ability to follow a chemical trail, was the
first sense developed by animal life. Perhaps this is why a scent can trigger a
memory so clearly.
this is why the incident hasn’t been erased from my memory. It’s not just
rubber balls, but other items made of rubber that tickle my fancy (and other
body parts as well).
batted at my penis with her ball as her sister looked on. It was enough to
erect my penis to all of its inch and a half (if that much) glory. I knew it
got hard for no apparent reason from time to time. I had no idea that someone
could make it hard.
liked the way it felt when it was hard, so after this incident, I started
touching myself there while thinking about Peggy and Chrissie and found if I
kept on touching it, it felt really good. Peggy had unwittingly started me on
my road to a lifetime of masturbation.
sister showed up to inform us that the women were finished changing and it was
time to go. I can’t recall if Peggy and Chrissie were finished playing with us
boys by then and if my sister saw anything.
went out to play in the pool. I have memories of that too or it could be
memories of some other time at the pool. Although my sister and I both have
memories of the pool, we don’t know how often we went there. I do remember that
the shallow end had broad steps, flanked by concrete lions from whose mouths
suppose there was a deep end, but I can’t recall it or whether there were
diving boards there. Slides into pools weren’t a “thing” then. There, at the
distant end, be water that was over my head and I doubt that I had learned to
incident in the changing room should have been an isolated incident. It seemed
to be simple schoolgirl curiosity that once satisfied, gave way to other
things. The girls didn’t have a younger brother like some of the other girls
did, so the other boy and I were surrogates. For the rest of the summer, none
of the girls seemed to have an interest in seeing me naked.
sister occasionally saw me but it’s kind of difficult when you live together in
close quarters not to have accidents occur. However, I can’t recall ever seeing
her or any other girl naked until one of my female cousins was born. I had
something that stuck out; she didn’t.
thought that Chrissie had forgotten the incident except that about a year
later, Chrissie was playing with my cousin, Debbie. Debbie was the same age as
me and also eventually in my class at school. I have no idea why she wasn’t
with us at the pool that particular day: she lived in the apartment across the
hall from us. The two girls were friendly enough, but wound up in different
suppose I need to describe the social dynamics of a play group. In 1950’s
Brooklyn, every kid played in the street. I did the math: considering the
number of apartments in each tenement, and the number of tenements on the
block, there were about 600 kids playing on my street. All in an area slightly
longer than and about half as wide as a football field.
blacktop was the domain of the older boys who played stickball, roller hockey
or touch football from sunup to sundown, depending on the season.
sidewalks were the domain of the girls. As soon as a boy got old enough to play
in the street (usually about age 9 or 10), he’d leave the play group. The hard
reality was that younger boys were not picked to play in “the game.”
the sidewalk groups consisted of little boys from about age 4 to 10 and girls
from about 4 to 13. The older girls were in charge of the group. They decided
what the group would do and what games we would play.
was all supported by the mothers on the block. It was a built-in child care
situation and let mom, clean the house, go grocery shopping (a daily chore) and
watch soap operas. You minded the “head girl” because she had all the authority
of her mom and through the mother’s “network,” your mom.
the playgroups were universally female dominated. The oldest, most experience
member, was a girl and whenever a job needed to be done, she would delegate it
to one of her female lieutenants giving the younger girl the leadership skills
she needed to take over the group in her turn.
and her sister were in a group headed up by one of her cousins. My cousin and I
were in a group with my sister and headed by a girl named Carol. Carol was very
bossy and delighted in ordering the younger kids around, particularly the boys.
She was somewhat lenient with the girls, letting them get away with things, but
came down on the boys for the smallest infractions.
kids mostly stayed within their own play groups, the groups didn’t have
iron-clad membership and kids would occasionally wander from group to group or
sometimes even “solo.”
was the case on this day, I was with my cousin when Chrissie came along and
started playing with her. I was almost immediately abandoned by Debbie in favor
of a playmate of her own gender.
of them were playing the alphabet game. The alphabet game requires a rubber
ball and a girl. The girl recites the alphabet while bouncing the ball under
her leg chanting, “A, my name is Alice and my husband’s name is Al we come from
Alabama and we sell Apples. B, my name is Barbara …” and so on through the alphabet,
turning her leg over the ball any time a letter or something beginning with
that letter was mentioned in the rhyme.
our neighborhood, jumping rope was strictly a girl thing too. This was
supported by the rhymes they would recite as they jumped. Sometimes us boys
would be pressed into duty to turn the rope for the girls as they jumped in and
out chanting their rhymes.
the girls didn’t even need a rope. They would sit on the stoop (a word for
stairs that has gone out of fashion) doing an elaborate hand-clapping routine
while reciting words to go along with the clapping.
also had other games like tag, red-light green-light, Simon says and such.
These games were more to the liking of us boys. We were also recruited to play
“house” by the offer of candy or cake as “dinner.” It was worth sitting on the
stoop next to a doll or two for the treat.
about half the games involved using a 25-cent rubber ball made by Spaulding
which, with our Brooklyn accents, we pronounced “Spall-deen.” Just as Kleenex
is a synonym for tissue, Coke a synonym for Cola (or even soda) and in that
era, Keds was a synonym for girl’s sneakers; Spalldeen was a synonym for that
pink, hollow, rubber sphere.
were at least a dozen games played with a spalldeen and most of them were
was pretty much a boy-only game. The alphabet game, however was totally a girl
thing to do and I was relegated to the sideline and bored. It was worse than
even that. The sidewalks *were* the sidelines. So I was sidelined on the
sideline. A total social outcast – at least for the moment.
a while, the girls stopped playing and started talking and wound up on one of
those girl-to-girl conversations where they cup their hand to the ear of the
other girl and whisper secrets to each other. As young as I was, I knew they
were talking about me.
my cousin said to me, “Come with me.” I had no idea what she had to offer at
the time, but it was a reprieve from my exile. I was willing to do anything to
get back into the game and be able to play.
girls led me down the cellar to our house. The cellar was a cellar, not a
basement. Basements are for people who live in the suburbs. Cellars are
concrete walled, whitewashed, musty and dusty places where the trash cans were
kept and home to the boiler for hot water. Whenever I come across that smell,
my mind rewinds back across the decades.
cellar was also the place where there were crudely walled-off compartments
where people stored their seasonal belongings. It was there that my beloved
train set spent most of the year. It was about the only place for privacy.
Nobody had a garage, and the nearest barn to hide behind was probably 100 miles
it was open to any of the occupants in the tenement, the wood-framed stairs and
floors in the building were so creaky that we’d have plenty of warning if
had a feeling that we were about to do something “naughty.” At that age naughty
was bad, something you shouldn’t do, but not evil or harmful. It was merely a
taboo, a prohibition and that made doing it all the more exciting. The girls
were getting excited because they knew they shouldn’t be looking at my thing. I
was getting excited because I knew I shouldn’t be showing them my thing.
told me to stand still and she reached out to pull my shorts down. I didn’t
object. My parents warned me about grown-ups touching me. Debbie and Chrissie
weren’t grown-ups; they were kids like me. My sense of modesty was only on the
verge of developing, so it didn’t matter that they were girl-kids. Besides,
they were my friends and I trusted them. It was only when thinking back on it
that I get embarrassed.
don’t know whether Debbie was scared, nervous or excited as she giggled when my
penis popped out of my underwear. I’m fairly certain it was the first time she
saw a penis and the opportunity to learn about “the boy secret” is probably why
she was so eager to accept Chrissie’s offer.
me show you how to make it big,” Chrissie said as she re-enacted the penis and
ball batting routine like her sister had done to me at the pool. Once again, I
was being made hard by a girl and liking it.
cousin watched for a while and asked, “Let me try.” She stepped forward, and
was soon bouncing my penis off her ball.
two girls played with me until we heard someone coming. They got no closer than
the hallway on the first floor, but it was enough to scare us out of our play.
didn’t feel like we were doing anything wrong, but all the same, I didn’t want
to get caught doing it.
drifted further away from our group after that. She wound up in another play
group on the next block where her grandmother lived.
the rest of the summer, my cousin was low-key about it and never offered to
repeat the experiment. That changed when winter set in.
am not sure what most kids did to occupy their time when the weather was bad,
but my cousin and I played together at lot, mostly in her apartment. Most of
the time we played board games and things like tinker toys and whatever it was
that existed before legos. But she was a girl and she had dolls and we also
played school and house a lot. I got a head start on being domesticated: a
trait that my wife appreciates.
aunt was divorced and worked (both unusual for those times) so we were under
the care of my grandmother who pretty much lived in the kitchen and didn’t
interrupt our play except to call us for lunch. We had privacy in the far away
front room and we knew it.
often in the course of play, my cousin would ask me to take out my penis so she
could play with it. When there’s a foot of snow on the ground, it’s tough to
bounce a ball and recite the alphabet game. So she had her favorite alternative
game to play with a ball. In her imagination, she even taught her dolls how to
play penis ball.
cousin never seemed to tire of the game and neither did I. Every time we
played, I wound up hard before her and again, enjoying the sensation.
we went on to school and she introduced a couple of her friends, our fellow
classmates: Melissa and Linda to penis play. The four of us got together once
at Linda’s aunt’s house. Her aunt and uncle were away and she had the key so
she could get in to water the plants.
of a hurried few minutes, we had a couple of hours to play. Linda’s aunt’s
house had an actual basement with tiled floors. There was some furniture down
there and even a television! There were two support poles along the stairs
first game the girls wanted to play was a kissing game. None of them had ever
kissed a boy and I had never kissed a girl. They seemed to be more exciting
about playing it than me although my cousin was a bit reluctant; she felt funny
kissing her own cousin until the other girls told her it was just for fun.
tell you the truth, all we knew about kissing was what we saw on TV which
wasn’t much. Linda was the first girl to kiss me. We just sort of pushed our
lips together. I could hear Melissa and Debbie giggling as we did it. When it
was Melissa’s turn, she actually moved her lips a bit against mine. That was
exciting and I decided to emulate it when it was Debbie’s turn.
was another round of kissing this time we held the kisses for at least a minute.
girls went into whisper mode and then proposed a game to tie me up to one of
the poles. I found myself agreeing and I was getting excited as they tied me
up. I was a totally helpless prisoner of the girls and I liked it!
first thing they did was tickle me to see if they could make me pee in my
pants. They got me laughing and squirming, but they didn’t get me to pee. I
begged them to stop and the eventually did.
Melissa pulled my pants and underwear down exposing me. This was reminiscent of
what Peggy did to me in the changing room. Since then all I’ve ever done was
take it out of my fly so they could play with it. Now I was exposed by a girl.
I didn’t do it. She was the one who made me naked … well, at least partially:
the part that counted.
course, each one of the girls had her ball with her and they took turns making
me hard. Linda suggested a game where they bounced the ball off the floor and
have it come up and hit my penis. They giggled as they played the game and came
close a couple of times. My cousin actually hit my penis on one of her bounces,
but when Linda hit me in the balls, I grunted in pain.
girls stopped immediately and came to comfort me. The untied me but made me get
undressed totally. That was the only time I got totally naked in front of
girls. We played a couple of milder ball games (the normal kind) and the last
thing they did was take me to the bathroom so they could watch me pee. I had
never peed for a girl before then.
I got dressed and we went home with my cousin and I walking all the way
together. She was looking at me and smiling. I think I made her proud in front
of her friends. She was bouncing her ball as we walked and I wonder if she
associated it as strongly with the games we played as I did. I don’t think she
or the other girls could look at a ball and not think of how much fun it was to
play with a penis.
I didn’t do it with the other girls that much because there weren’t a lot of
occasions or places where we could have privacy.
though we didn’t think we were doing anything wrong, we still thought it was a
good idea to keep it a secret. I began to have some doubts about these games. I
was always the one showing my thing, but the girls always remained
fully-clothed. On the one hand, I felt that it wasn’t fair; on the other I
liked doing it with them. They made me feel good and if I had to expose myself
to them, then it was worth it.
good things must come to an end, and in this case since we were Catholics and all
went to Catholic School, we came under the dominance of these creatures called
of a sudden what was naughty was now evil and this thing called a sin. Sins
were evil and damned one to hell if you committed one: and it was so easy to
commit one. Fight with your sister: sin; talk back to your mother: sin; cheat
on a test: sin; tell a lie: sin, steal a piece of candy: sin; eat a hot dog on
Friday: sin. And of course exposing oneself to the opposite sex: sin. Seeing
the opposite sex naked: sin. Simply having “impure thoughts”: sin.
one sin committed by nearly every boy was adultery. Yes, masturbation was a sin
and it had to fit somewhere, so the Catholic Church wedged it into the 6th
the girls, it was even more nebulous: leading boys on so they commit adultery.
moved to a different neighborhood shortly after these events. I never saw the
girls again which was probably a good thing because I don’t know how I would
have dealt with them later on seeing them in class every day. Of course, I
still saw my cousin on family visits, but our “naughty” play stopped.
don’t know whether the girls would have stopped playing with me this way either
because they’d lost interest in the game (all I did was get hard) or because
they would get tired of going to confession every Saturday.
on the other hand, had the concept of girls playing with me using a rubber ball
firmly implanted as an erotic fantasy to which I often masturbated.
I was a devout masturbator even as a grade school child. Ever since that first
encounter with Peggy, I’ve been touching myself. At first, it was to make it
hard since I liked that sensation. Eventually I discovered that if I touched
myself enough, it felt really good. I was on the fast track to hell and I
the girls played with me, they made me hard and I liked that. As much as I
encouraged them, they never rubbed it in a way to give me an orgasm. So
whenever I masturbated, I would fantasize about the girls doing it to me, but
endowing them with a special power to know when they did it enough not only to
make me hard but to keep on going to make me feel good. At the time I did not
know that there would be a more visible sign of my orgasm when I got older.
boyhood fantasy world consisted of a girls stimulating my penis with a rubber
ball. At first it was Peggy and then Chrissie and then Debbie but eventually
other girls at school.
was a group of “bad girls:” a girl of about 12, her younger sister and her
sister’s two friends. They were bullies. We were used to “boy bullies” but they
were usually older, bigger and solitary. These were girls and their strength
came from their unity: they always attacked in a pack. There were occasional scuffles
between them and other play groups, but usually the alpha-girl in the
threatened group rallied her troops and defended her turf.
like in the wild, the poor animal separated from the herd was vulnerable so
there was another reason for a boy to stick with his play group: mutual
protection. Nobody could push us boys around or tell us what to do except the
girls in our group.
was never attacked by these girls although we heard rumors. Nonetheless one of
my fantasies evolved around them. They would take me to their cellar, tie me up
and strip me and play with my penis using a rubber ball. Then, after giving me
an orgasm, they would untie me and dress me up like a girl (blouse, skirt and
“girl sneakers:” AKA -Keds) and make me play the alphabet game and laugh at the
boy who looked like and played like a girl.
was nice when my friends played with me; I let them see and touch me. However,
the bully girls didn’t “earn” my trust and forced me to do it. There was
something in the coercion that added an element of excitement. Maybe it was a
reaction to Catholic Guilt; it can’t be a sin if someone forces you to do it.
didn’t actually try rubbing my penis with a ball until I was 9 years old. I was
staying over my Cousin Karen’s house and we were playing with her friend
Barbara. The girls were about 7 years old, and we played the usual kids’ games
such as we could with only three players.
of them were ball games, and the girls played the alphabet game with slightly
different lyrics, but this was an entirely different neighborhood. I also
shared turns with Karen and Barbara turning a rope while the other girl jumped.
I felt a bit funny – the big boy playing with little girls – but it was either
that or not play at all. I got hard playing with the girls, particularly when
playing ball but made no offer to expose myself.
that night, I was in the basement getting ready to go to bed and noticed that
Barbara had left her ball there. I knew it was hers because she had written her
name on it.
this time my fantasy had grown even more perverted. If a girl touched my penis
with something made of rubber, it would make me her slave. I would be bound to
her by a trance and could do nothing but to obey her every wish. I knew it
wasn’t true, yet I hesitated bringing Barbara’s ball to my penis. It was as if
by touching it, some of her power that was stored up in the ball would overcome
me. To fill that void I was surrendering my power to resist the girl to the
ball, and she would pick up this power over me the next time she touched it.
course if the girl was actually doing this in real time, the power exchange
would be instantaneous and continuous. But that wasn’t totally necessary; she
could do it by proxy through her rubber ball. If that isn’t the definition of a
fetish, I don’t know what is.
pulled down my pajamas and started to rub the ball against my penis. Even
before I touched it, it was hard.
then I head the door to the basement open. I scrambled into bed and pulled the
covers over me. It was my cousin coming down to chat with me. She had a
“talker” on and we chatted for about a half hour with me half naked with
Barbara’ ball under the covers. The urge to pull them off and show my cousin
what I was really doing was strong.
resisted and feigned tiredness and she left. Once I was sure she was gone, I
pulled down the covers and resumed my attempted masturbation.
totally inexperienced with what I was doing, I rubbed my erected penis rather
firmly with the roughly textured rubber ball and it was making it sore. I was
disappointed and believed that maybe my fantasy would never be fulfilled.
didn’t try doing it again until puberty. By then, I decided that a lighter
touch was needed and there was this thing called pre-cum that provided
lubrication. I actually discovered how to masturbate myself with a rubber ball
before I learned how to jerk off properly.
off was a lot easier and more convenient, but the ball actually provided more
pleasure. Whenever I got the chance, I’d lay there, diddling my penis with the
ball milking out drop after drop of pre-cum experiencing what I called “trickle
orgasms” – they weren’t as strong as the main event but pleasant in their own
way. I discovered that the more I trickled orgasmed, the more powerful and
enjoyable the final orgasm was.
I couldn’t trickle orgasm all day long. There came a point where either by
design or by accident I’d have to push across the barrier into full
ejaculation. It was very messy but the pleasure was well worth it. It also
completed my fantasy. Not only would girls be interested in making a boy hard,
it would be the “brass ring” if they could make him ejaculate. I would be a fun
thing for them to do and watch.
was no internet back then, but mom’s Sears catalogue had plenty of pictures of
girls my age to look at.
for my sister, who seems to know nothing of my secret life, and my cousin, I
don’t know what happened to the rest of the girls. My cousin and I still get
along fine. We see each other from time to time at family gatherings. We never
talk about the things she did with me as a young girl,
but I am sure she remembers them as well as I do.
(End of File)
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