by Constance Freeman
What if I could put myself in your mind and live there for a day?
I could walk in your shoes. Taste your meals.
I could stare into the darkness of your bedroom in the middle of the night, experiencing your pain and discomfort.
Your thoughts would become mine, and I would be surprised by the memory of, the actual feel of, kissing that retarded girl, the one who was much older than you/me. She was the one that showed us what sex was all about. She was wise about that sort of thing, even though they said her mind was very young for her age. Still, her body had grown and developed. She had breasts, and she seemed to like the way it felt when we touched them, softly at first, then with more urgency as we realized where this might lead.
It's hard to remember exactly how old we were, but it was well before the change that occurred when we were fifteen, that day we woke up understanding everything about how the world worked, about what was in the minds of the adults, and how to work them. We learned a great deal about that over time.
But let's get back to that experience with the girl. If I remember right, it took place in a sunken room. Like a basement with the top floor blown off. By a tornado, perhaps. Or some kind of an explosion. How it came to be doesn't really matter, the place existed, if only in our minds. It was dark down there, except for the soft afternoon light coming in at an angle from above where the ceiling should have been. A lot of leaves had blown in over time, creating a soft bed for us to lie on, a bed made softer by the feel of the girl's warm body beside us and sweeter by the soft puffs of warm air she blew on our neck as she wiggled and moaned. Oh, the places she touched us, and the way she moved with her body against ours. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until the whole world seemed to explode.
Where did she learn about all that? From her father? Her uncle? That's a question you wouldn't have asked then, but I ask it now. Does anyone know the answer?
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