Source: Unknown (Earliest post)
Whoa. Fuck me, why isn’t this a video?
There’s a veritable treasure trove of dynamic visual potential what with the driver nearing a point when he will ejaculate onto his shirt and abdomen with his friend following suit shortly thereafter. Add to that the transgressive bonus points of being in a car and therefore implicitly in public gives the proceedings a deliciously transgressive charge.
Moreover, as a video I would be less likely to note to notice the personally triggering asymmetry between the passenger’s attention to the giving of pleasure and driver’s focus on receiving it.
When I was five, my military family relocated to the South Pacific. Up to that point, I had lived a relatively insular life so it really wasn’t quite the shock one might have expected.
With my father traveling around the Pacific Rim for months at time, my mother became increasingly dependent upon her membership in the Seventh-day Adventist church–especially the pastor’s family.
They had two children. Ellie was four year’s older than me, Will, a year and a half.
Will had blond hair, blue eyes and a deep tan. He could ride a bike without training wheels or a helmet, collected Smurf figurines and was the most worldly kid I had ever met. He was my first ‘friend’.
In hindsight, Will was a little off. He was secretive, volatile and detached. Of course, all that registered to me was his mom would more or less let us watch cartoons whenever we wanted.
On day, Will said we were going to play ‘Butt Work’. I didn’t know what that was but he said he’d show me. He spread a blanket on the floor of the closet and told me to lay down on it. I did.
Now take your pants off. I did.
I was embarrassed. Will slid the closet door closed. I wiggled out of my underwear.
Spread your legs. I did.
There was a click and a flash of light. I realized Will had his Spiderman flashlight. I the fingers of his left hand spread me. I fidgeted.
After what seemed like forever, Will extinguished the flashlight.
My turn. I scooted to the side and before I could get my underwear and shorts back on was laying naked from the waist down with his legs spread. I tried to replicate what he did to me but I didn’t understand what I was doing.
After a second or two he angrily took the flashlight from me. You don’t know how to do it, right. He grabbed his shorts and slipped out of the closet.
The second time Will suggested we play ‘Butt Work’, I had an erection before I could even get my underwear off. I couldn’t lay down on the ground and Will was cross with me.
The third and all subsequent times, when Will wanted to play ‘Butt Work’ he would shove his hand down the front of my pants and push my penis down between my legs until I was laying flat on the ground.
It wasn’t traumatic and it didn’t really bother me. Even when things progressed from spread my ass and eying anus to blowing a stream of exhaled breath onto it. This led to him using small twigs to tickle me. I didn’t necessarily like what was happening but I enjoyed the attention even if I didn’t understand what he got out of it, it was clear that he was deeply invested in the proceedings.
He never again let me try to do what he did to me to him though.
I can’t remember the first time he penetrated me with his finger. I did not like it but the attention he gave me afterwards was so much more focused, seemingly sincere.
One afternoon, Will and I had been playing hide and seek for most of the morning around my house. My father had come out and was mowing the lawn. We’d made a game of trying to sneak up on him but since he always knew we we’re coming after him the game lost it’s appeal.
I found this centipede in the gutter adjacent to my house. Centipede’s were a fairly regular siting but this one was easily four times the size of the one’s I was accustomed to seeing. I called Will and predictably, he began to poke it with a stick trying to knock it off the grate into the drain.
Or at least that’s what I thought we was doing. Instead, he managed to hook it onto the end of the stick and thrust it towards my face. I freaked out and ran but I made it maybe three strides before I was suddenly flat on the grass and dazed.
Will had tripped me. I heard the lawnmower. Will was on top of me. the lawnmower droned closer. Will pulled my shorts down around my knees and shoved his finger into me up to his second knuckle. He wiggled his finger up-and-down rapidly.
The lawnmower stopped. There was a shuffling sound and then Will wasn’t on top of me. He was sprawled three feet away.
My father put me on my feet. Roughly dragging my pants up. Hurting me. Red faced and screaming. The gist of it was what is going on, what are you perverts doing, I’m going to call your parents. Go home. I don’t ever want to see you again.
I didn’t understand what had happened/what was happening.
Inside the house–with the lawn left half mowed–the interrogation began. I wasn’t especially ashamed and I certainly wasn’t traumatized but I knew that to be truthful about all the specifics would be a very bad idea. I explained merely that it was a game. I refused to admit it had a name or detail the specifics.
Looking back, I realize my parents thought I was gay and they figured this was an early manifestation that they needed to discipline/scare out of me. My punishment was being grounded for three months; I would go without dinner every evening during that same time and since Xmas fell during it, festivities such as presents, stockings and the like were categorically cancelled for me.
As a form of protest, every night while my family ate I laid under the Xmas tree. My mother has always had this stupid fixation with the ‘country’ craft aesthetic and instead of bulbs the tree was festooned with red glazed plastic apples. I would sit with them bobbing directly above my face.
Generally, there would be some comment along the lines of me using the time productively to meditate on what I had done wrong.
Instead, I imagined the apples were real. Imagined how they might taste, if I could just reach up, pluck one and bite into it. I didn’t feel like I’d done anything wrong. And more than once the apple motif made me wonder if maybe this is how Eve felt.