Comment on Yes, this is what people did back then

• Monument@lemmy.sdf.org ⁨1⁩ ⁨month⁩ ago

  It was weird times. I mean, great. But weird and great to my half-cooked, traumatized, and hormone-addled teenage brain.

  She was my sister’s best friend at the time and, well, physically she was like the girl who’d molested me as a child, which definitely had (and still has) an impact on my physical preferences.
  I don’t exactly know what her deal was, but I think it was that any male attention just short-circuited her. I recall her telling me she loved me after a few weekends of sneaking around, and after about a month, spinning a yarn as pretext to try to move in with us.

  It’s probably a good thing we got caught a day or so after she moved in. Stupid football game. It pushed some TV show back, and my mom/sisters stayed up late to watch it. My sister (her best friend) came downstairs to check in on her and caught us in bed.

  As for the how - I don’t know. I was an awkward gangly teenager, and she was honestly a pretty attractive girl. She had some self-confidence issues, I think.
  It was like the first day she’d come over for a sleepover. I had never met her - my sister befriended her when we were in foster care, so this was not unusual - and I was instantly into her. I have no idea if she picked up on that or not. We were watching movies (me, 2 of my sisters, and her). The couches were occupied, and so I had a pallet on the floor. So did she. Our feet were under the big couch, hidden by the little skirt that all couches had back then, heads pointing toward the TV. I thought I felt her foot touch mine (but it was probably wishful thinking). I edged my foot over, discovering the distance between us was way too far for her to have accidentally touched me, and sort of bonked her foot with mine while awkwardly exploring. I pulled back just slightly and she immediately pressed her foot against mine. Footsie lead some sneaky suggestive glances, then surreptitiously bridging our blankets together and doing our best to conceal our roving hands. At one point during a bathroom break everyone had left the room, she told me her intentions, and I was very okay with them. We made a plan - I was going to go to bed, and she was going to find me after everyone was asleep. (She was sleeping in a guest room that was conveniently located - my bedroom was in the basement.) And that was that.

  She used to page me with “143” (code for I love you - which I don’t think either of us could know what that actually meant) and I used to page her back with same. We were so dumb and teenager-y. It was fun, but unhealthy. I didn’t get enough positive attention, and this sort of reinforced a belief that I could only be of service to someone sexually. If I wasn’t serving someone sexually, I wasn’t of value emotionally - another formative belief that was maybe not the best and is still hard to shake.

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  • Mickey7@lemmy.world ⁨1⁩ ⁨month⁩ ago

    Great story. You mentioned that this encounter was your first experience. Did she work with you to show you how to do it or was it hormones flying and you jumped on top of her? If you sister interrupted, did you at least finish?

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    • Monument@lemmy.sdf.org ⁨1⁩ ⁨month⁩ ago

      First consensual experience. My usage of the word molested earlier downplays things a bit – we had full penetrative sex, but I was 6 years old. It’s something that occurred dozens of times. It’s not the only time I was sexually abused as a kid by someone older, but it’s the one I’ll mention.
      Not very much later than that very first experience, I had a rather thorough introduction to pornography. My parents split up, my mom moved far away, taking us with her. After she kicked her drug habit, she became a workaholic and put in 80-hour workweeks. Another kid at our apartment complex had a “cool mom” who figured that her preteen was going to get his hands on porn, so she had some available that I guess was okay by her. He then showed it to everyone - including my then 8-or 9-year-old self.

      Honestly - I think I did alright. We had several multi-hour long trysts, usually one to two a weekend for at least a month (probably more like 2 months) until she moved in/we got caught. I don’t know if I knew what I was doing, skill wise, but she did, and I’m able to have multiple orgasms/erections, so like if one pops off (and they did with way less control back then), it wasn’t a mood killer. Plus, I think I lead off that initial encounter by trying to eat her out. I’m sure we talked and found stuff that worked for her. But maybe not? I don’t know. She kept coming back and wanted more. I assumed that was satisfaction - although it could have been whatever her emotional damage was.

      A lot of it for both of us may have been the completely open embrace of each other without any kind of guile or awareness that we were, you know, being gigantic emotionally destructive idiots. As well as being fairly risky on contraception. Woof. Rhythm method most of the time. I’m sure she grew up to be a lovely person, but man, what a mess we could have made of our lives.

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