Читать книгу SKANKS - Keaton Albertson - Страница 4

My earliest experiences with members of the opposite sex took place in the fifth grade. Although I had no interest in feminine flesh at that time, for some reason or another, girls were attracted to me like flies to a turd. One newly pubescent female in particular, Heidi, went out of her way to sexually harass me on a regular basis at school. I was not entirely sure what sexual harassment entailed during the fifth grade, and I probably could not spell the term nor use it in sentence even if I had been aware of the definition, but I knew that it was something really cool just the same.

Heidi would hunt me down and kiss me all the time. It did not matter if I was enjoying myself at recess out on the playground, walking through the crowded hallways to class, beating up some poor bastard who looked funny by the bike rack, or kneeling over the ditch bank collecting bugs. Wherever I was, Heidi would find me, kiss me, and then run away with a stream of giggles, leaving me feeling dirty and used.

Given that Heidi was taller than me and had began puberty much earlier than I, she was physically able to overpower me without much difficulty. On more than one occasion, Heidi pushed me to the ground in front of my peers, only to kiss me and run off with a sense of glee over her apparent victory. I was not embarrassed by these actions because I quickly discovered that having a girl forcing herself on top of me felt pretty damn good, even though she had cooties and did not understand the diametric relationship between Cobra Commander and the G.I. Joe team.

Eventually, Heidi built up enough courage to talk to me, rather than employ her hit and run maneuvers of kissing me and bolting off. She was direct with her verbalizations when they finally occurred, which stood in stark contrast to her passive-aggressive behavior of fleeing after she pushed my ass to the ground, straddled me, and smooched all over my face. I later learned that Heidi merely wanted me to pursue her when she had ran away so many times before. After she realized that I would not do so, she finally opted to talk with me instead. Surprisingly, once I got to know Heidi a little bit, I discovered that my conversations with her were fairly interesting, even though she failed to see the humor in my stories of taping grasshoppers to bottle rockets and launching them into the air where they burned to death in a fiery burst of color.

During our discourses at school together, I learned that Heidi lived up the street from me, approximately midway between my parents’ house and the school grounds. After I became wise of the close proximity of Heidi’s house to my own, it became a regular occurrence for me to walk home after school with my new female friend and occasionally stop by her house for an afternoon snack that her parents routinely provided us. My mother soon became aware of my afternoon delights, however, and sought to put an end to them. In attempts to avoid having any more grandchildren, my mother prohibited me from making any further stops at Heidi’s house on my way home from school. I was to “walk straight home.” And I was specifically forbidden from “going over to that little whore’s house” anymore.

Despite my maternal prohibitions from stopping by Heidi’s abode on my walks home from school, I was unable to resist the temptation one particular day after class and followed her inside her house for “just a few minutes.” This day was different than those previous, however. Upon entry into the desolate residence, we were not greeted by Heidi’s parents at the front door and no afternoon snacks had been prepared for us. Heidi’s parents were not at home.

I was somewhat uncomfortable with being left alone inside Heidi’s house. I became even more uncomfortable when I entered her bedroom for the first time. Her room was cluttered with girlie things, such as posters of teenage celebrities, My Little Pony dolls, and plastic jewelry. There was nothing that she owned which appealed to my interest. There were no army men dioramas on the shelves, no homemade weapons lying about, and no pictures of exotic sports cars on her walls. Her room was in entire chaos, having so much glitter and fairy paraphernalia that it strained my eyes with a sensory overload. After only a few minutes of discomfort inside her bedroom, I elected to go outside, where Heidi happily showed me the swing set that she had in her backyard.

The most notable feature of Heidi’s swing set was the inclusion of a double-seated boxed swing. This contraption allowed for two small persons to face each other while they sat together inside a metal-framed carriage that was shaped like a cube. The carriage was suspended in the middle by a long, metal pole which provided swinging movement from where it was hinged at the top of the swing set frame. I had never before witnessed such a swing and excitedly jumped aboard the carriage when I first laid my eyes on it. Heidi joined me, sitting in the opposite seat. We soon discovered that our bodies were too large to both sit inside the cube at the same time. Instead, we sat up on the edges of carriage and placed our feet upon the small interior benches.

After talking for several minutes while swinging back and forth on the boxed swing, Heidi was overcome by my oozing masculinity and moved to kiss me. She succeeded in making contact with my lips which immediately traumatized me. I jerked away as soon as I remembered that I had neglected to take my cootie vaccination that morning. I then tried to detour any further advances from Heidi by swinging faster, which made it so she had to cling to the carriage frame with her wanton hands instead of touching my muscular-sculpted body.

“You can’t go very fast on this,” Heidi advised, nervously looking around at the unsecured base of the swing set.

“Why not?” I asked, swinging faster.

“My dad said you’ll tip it over if you go too far,” Heidi reported.

I looked up at the connection rod of the boxed swing and determined that it had a solid link to the frame. The base of the swing set frame itself, however, was not as sturdy and it began to lift out of the ground with each consecutive arc, causing the entire structure to rock back and forth. I stood up and held onto the central pole of the box swing, causing the contraption to increasingly gain momentum. A few moments later, the box swing inverted and dumped Heidi out onto the ground. She first cracked her head on the compacted dirt and then got rammed in the face by the swing as it came down from its arc, splitting open her lip.

I quickly jumped off the contraption and stopped the box swing from making another pass at Heidi’s head. “Are you okay?” I asked, after I stabilized the moving object.

“I think so,” she replied, sucking in her bottom lip that had begun to bleed. Heidi then touched the back of her head, rubbing the sore spot.

“Sorry,” I uttered indifferently.

“It’s okay. It’s my fault.”

“Yeah, probably,” I agreed.

Heidi looked at me with a sad expression and continued to suck on her bottom lip in attempts to stop the bleeding. The ruined romantic moment quickly grew more strained. I knew that my time was limited, as I had already spent a good forty-five minutes at Heidi’s house exploring her bedroom and the swing set outside. Although I felt primarily responsible for Heidi’s injury, I was more concerned with the cuticle integrity of my own ass if my parents’ learned of me violating their prohibitions. Thus, even though she was hurt and looking for comfort, the time had come for me to abandon Heidi in her moment of need and return home.

“I have to get going,” I said. “Um… I’ll see you later.”

“Uh, okay,” Heidi replied, continually touching her lip with her fingers and pulling them away from her face to see the amount of blood that she was leaking.

“Alright, bye.” I made a short jog toward the fence in Heidi’s backyard, slipped out the gate, and was quickly on my way down the road to my parents’ house. I did not make it one block before I spotted my older brother, Bobby Boop, riding up the road toward me on his bicycle. My mother had sent him out looking for me. Son of a bitch, I thought to myself.

As my brother neared me while wearing an agitating grin on his face (because he knew that I was in a quagmire of shit once I got home), my mind raced for an explanation regarding my lateness.

“Mom wants you home right now,” Bobby Boop announced, pulling up his bicycle in front of me.

I immediately forced myself to cry.

“Ha-Ha, you’re in trouble,” my brother said. “Dad’s going to be mad at you too.”

“I… didn’t do… anything,” I sniffled, purposely emphasizing and spacing out my words in between the whimpers.

“You did so! Mom told you not to go over to that girl’s house anymore.”

“I didn’t… go over… to her… house,” I cried. “I got beat up.”

“What?”

“There’s an… eighth-grader… down that way,” I pouted, pointing up the road. “He was… with some friends… and they were on bikes… and they took my… compass,” I stated in between the exaggerated whimpers and cries.

Bobby Boop’s face morphed from an agitating grin to an angry scowl. He assumed a protective stance over me, which was quite ironic, given the fact that I could easily beat the hell out of him and had done so on several prior occasions.

“How many of them were there?” my brother asked.

“About… thr-eeeee,” I cried.

“I’m gonna go get them!” he announced. “Go home and I’ll be back.” Bobby Boop pedaled away up the street as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him, searching for my phantom attackers.

“What a dumb ass,” I stated to myself while watching my brother pedal up the road in a fury. “He’s gonna go pick a fight with someone and get trashed.” I chuckled softly, knowing that my brother would have a hard time beating up Heidi, let alone several eight-graders.

As I resumed walking home that afternoon, I realized that this entire affair could have been avoided had it not been for Heidi’s lascivious desire of my body. I learned from this initial experience that the wanton ways of women was a powerful force indeed. But the source of their desire was still a mystery to me. Was it something about me that drew female attention so? I wondered. Some special anatomical feature maybe? Or was it just the fact that some girls were more sluttish than others. As my experiences unfurled over the years, I came to realize the true nature of skanks.