TRUE FIRST TIME TALES
WesRated: X ages 11, mid-teen
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I hesitate to call what happened to me as being molested. I'm sure by nearly any definition that is what it was. But to me it wasn't that kind of negative thing that being molested seems to indicate. My experience was almost entirely enjoyable and pleasant, although it certainly wasn't legal. Writing back and forth with Ray helped me remember far more than I had previously. I'd forgotten so many small details and even thoughts and feelings until I began working with Ray. This has been a really positive experience for me, and I'm very grateful to Ray for his help. I didn't even write this introduction on my own, but with Ray's help and advice. Not to mention his skills with words and phrasing. I can't thank him enough for all that he's helped me with these couple of weeks.
I grew up in a very small town. It was so small that we only had an elementary school. There were between ten and twenty kids in each grade, so each grade had it's own room and teacher. "Downtown" was the one-car police station where our one police officer could be found on weekdays between nine and five. There was a post office, which shared the same building with the water board, the electrical co-op office, and the mayor and city council. We had a volunteer fire department, which had a small fire truck, but any real fires were fought with the trucks from the nearest town that was almost twenty miles away and had two fire trucks. The rest of "downtown" was the hardware store, the little grocery store that also rented movies, and a pizza place that only delivered on Friday, Saturday and Sunday until eight - but at least it had some arcade games. That's about it. All surrounded by farms and open fields and small woodlands. There was a reservoir about ten miles away, and a river ran through town that was about fifty feet wide during the spring and just a few trickles among the rocks the rest of the year.
Naturally, my friends were the guys in my grade at school. Kids in the next grade were so much older it seemed, and the kids in the grade below were just little kids.
I was a pretty normal kid. I rode my bike with my friends, watched movies our folks rented from the grocery store, and played arcade games at the pizza place when we could get a few quarters. Todd and Bryce were my best buds, and Jake and Ryan and Mitch were my other friends. The other boys in my class were either brains/dorks or rich kids who thought they were too good to play with the regular kids. I liked playing baseball, but not as much as playing the arcade games at the pizza place. Todd and Bryce were the same. Jake, Ryan and Mitch were more into sports and such than the three of us were, but they weren't total sports-heads. Of course, in elementary school, jocks and dorks weren't firm cliques yet, but us boys were separated a bit by our likes.
So during the summer before sixth grade, when I was eleven, I was riding with Jake and Bryce out to the hills outside town where a bike trail of sorts was forged through the hilly woodlands there. It was fun to do, and every boy in town could be found there at some time or another. This was a hot summer day, and the sun was really bearing down, so getting into the shade of the woods was welcomed. There were a few other boys there already, some older, some younger, but we all managed to get along for the most part. We spent most of the day out there, riding and racing and having a good time.
Jake and Bryce wanted to go home about five, for dinner, but I wanted to stay longer, so they left. I rode some more, raced some more, and had a good time. Most of the rest of the boys went home about six or so. Most of the older boys that had been there when I arrived earlier had left, and some others had come throughout the day. Now it was all older boys, and I was the youngest still there. I knew I would probably get yelled at when I got home after being gone all day, especially if I didn't head home really soon and get there before dark. But I was testing those waters, if you know what I mean. I was already in trouble for missing dinner, which wasn't a huge deal.
So there I was, the only eleven-year-old out there, trying to keep up with the older boys. I couldn't, not with most of them. Then the other boys got worn out and went home. I was left with just one of older boys - one of the teenagers who weren't old enough to have a license, or that were but didn't have a car. I couldn't keep up with him, so I rode on my own and tried the more dangerous stunts on the bigger hills and ramps that I didn't want my friends to see me wipe out doing another day.
I had just tried one of the biggest dirt ramps and had wiped out, and was walking my bike back up the hill to the top. I had hurt my leg a bit and was limping some, when the last guy there, Caleb, came over the hill. I knew almost nothing about him. He was one of the high school guys, that was about all I knew. I think he fourteen or fifteen. Maybe sixteen without a car or something. Anyway, he saw me limping my way up the hill, and put his foot down into the dirt to stop next to me.
"Hey, little dude. Wipe out?"
"Yeah. Just about racked my nuts on the bar, but missed 'em," I laughed.
He laughed too, then said, "Yeah, I've racked the ol' balls a few times out here. You gotta learn to lean to one side. Better yet, try to fall over when you're gonna land bad. Ya know?"
"You gonna try again?"
"Nah. I think I banged my ass on the bar enough today. Gonna head home."
"Oh. Too bad."
"Well, I was gonna show you something."
"Well, you wanna see how I keep from racking my nuts on the bar?"
"Come on, I'll show ya."
I followed him up the hill, and then he left it and went into the trees.
"Where ya goin'?" I asked.
"To the cave," he told me over his shoulder.
Cave? That sounded too cool to pass up, so I followed him. Actually, I ended up walking alongside him once we got into less dense trees.
"How far is it?"
"It's just the other side of the river. Not far."
I'd never been on the other side of the river, so the idea of going over there was really tempting. You know, testing the waters and all that. I'd have to head home before dark or face a grounding though. My leg was aching a lot and I was limping more and more. We went over the river on a railroad trestle bridge, then down beside the river. After a bit, he said to leave our bikes there because we couldn't get them through the woods ahead. Finally we got to where the hills turned into an upward slope that ended at some cliffs. Then he went off to the side and into some even thicker bushes. It was short walk in the heavy brush, and then we were standing in front of a really dark hole in the ground.
"That's it?" I asked.
It looked like a hole someone had dug and not finished.
"Yeah. It opens up once you get inside, and I got a flashlight inside," he said, and then got on his hands and knees and crawled in.
I had forgotten why we'd come out there by then, and just followed him in. Inside, it did open up some, and it was amazingly cool in there. I heard him moving around, and then there was light. There was a lot of boxes and stuff in there, and a few cushions that looked like they were from old couches or stuffed chairs. He sat on one and pointed to the one next to him, so I sat down on it.
He pulled a little bottle out of a small box and opened it up. He shook out some pills and handed me one, saying, "Here's an aspirin for your leg."
He reached into an old cooler and tossed me a soda.
"Thanks," I said, and took the aspirin with the warm soda. ""How'd you find this?" I asked. "Someone tell you about it?"
"Hell no. I don't think anyone knows about it but me."
"Really? So this is all your stuff?" I asked, looking around at the boxes and containers.
"Yeah. It was empty when I found it. I know there's other caves closer to the bike trails, but other people know about them. Not this one."
"So, how'd you find it?"
"Well, I was running from some older boys who wanted to beat the crap out of me, and I sorta fell into it."
I laughed once he did and I knew it was okay to.
"I come our here ever since when I want to be alone."
"It's pretty cool," I said, then took another swig of the soda.
It was warm, but it was wet, and I hadn't drank anything all day.
"So what's your name?" he asked.
I told him. He told me his name. I told him I knew it already.
"Oh yeah? How?" he asked.
"Dunno. Guess I heard someone call you it. Or someone told me sometime or other."
I really couldn't remember where or when or how I knew his name. I was pretty sure one of my friends had told me, but I wasn't sure at all.
"How's your leg?" he asked.
"Sore as fuck," I told him, straightening it out with some difficulty.
"Where's it hurt at?"
"Right here," I said, gently patting my inner thigh, way up high, almost at my groin.
He got up a bit in the low cave, and knelt in front of me. He gently wrapped his hands around my little thigh, about midway between my knee and groin, and squeezed.
He moved his hands to my knee and squeezed there, asking, "Here?"
He moved his hands to my upper thigh, not far from the leg of my shorts. He squeezed.
I hissed a little, then said, "Kinda."
Then he moved his hands up to the very edge of the leg of my shorts. He squeezed there, and he didn't have to ask. I hissed out loud and jerked all over.
He didn't release his grip, but instead, sort of massaged it. It hurt at first, but it soon felt good. His hands kneaded the thigh muscle, moving up and down as well. His fingers went under the hem of my shorts sometimes, but I didn't think much about it at all, other than it felt pretty good.
In fact, it felt really, really good. Sort of warm and fuzzy, and tingly and wiggly. It felt strange and weird, and good and nice. Really nice.
About then I noticed that I felt kind of tired and weak, and dizzy. And... something I didn't have a word for. Good, but in a strange way.
I watched his big hands rub my thigh, his fingers sometimes disappearing into the leg of my shorts. It was sort of like I was dreaming it.
"Lay on your back," he told me softly.
I did. He helped me move around some, until I was on several cushions and pretty comfortable. Then he went back to massaging my leg.
I couldn't see his hands anymore, and only saw the roof of the cave now, dimly lit by the yellowing light of the flashlight.
I felt so relaxed and mellow, though I didn't think those words then. I only knew I felt soft and happy and comfy. And that his hands felt really good on my sore leg.
I didn't know how or when, but I suddenly realized that his hands were way up the leg of my shorts, and he was massaging right next to the leg opening of my underwear. I noticed because I felt his hands brush against my privates. The side of my sack, to be exact. It didn't seem any big deal, and besides, his hands felt so good on my sore leg. Okay, my sore groin tendon. I didn't know that was what was sore. I was eleven, I didn't know anatomy all that well.
But I did know that his hands made it feel so much better.
And when his hands moved even further up, and his fingers were rubbing between my sack and my leg, that it felt good in another way. A way that sort of matched the strange new way I felt good.
I suddenly thought that things were wrong. His hands were in a place they shouldn't be. I'd even felt them brushing against my underwear where they held my sack. In fact, now they were brushing there, and only there. It was still my inside thigh, but the backs of his fingers were also rubbing my sack through my underwear as often as not. Maybe even more often than not.
And it felt okay. I mean, it tickled a little, but the massaging and the rubbing felt good, and the touches on the side of my sack felt kind of nice too. It went along with the strange new feeling I'd noticed earlier. In fact, my whole body seemed to be enjoying this. I was so warm and fuzzy all over. Excited, inside and out. All my skin felt like it was warm silk and soft fur.
"Your shorts are in the way," he said, and I felt him taking them down.
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If privacy is a concern, pick up a pre-paid card at WalMart, a grocery or convenience store. Many come already loaded with various amounts from 5 to 100 bucks. Some don't and you just take the card to the cashier or service desk and load cash on it. You can use the pre-paid gift-card style card once then throw it away. Or you can get a reloadable and use it just like a credit/debit card online or in person and then reload it. Reloading it with cash continues the anonymity.
You can use either a debit or pre-paid card at (Shopify) who also accept PayPal, GooglePay and ShopPay as well as regular credit cards.
Be sure to register your pre-paid card online with your private email your significant-other/wife/family etc. don't know about so that purchase receipts and reports do not go to an email they know of. Unless you want paper receipts and statements sent to your home, be sure when you activate it online at the provider's site that you request no paper bills or statements. Most gift-card style pre-paid cards won't ask for or send anything to your address anyway as you're just going to throw them away after spending the pre-loaded amount.
Keep it where no one will find it, or you can not worry about that, and if it is ever found by your significant-other/wife/family etc. just explain that you keep a pre-paid card for emergencies or in case your primary card(s) are rejected or not accepted somewhere. You can also say it was given to you as a gift or a prize or in return for a favor (ride to work/home etc). Many employers, retail stores, and online stores give pre-loaded debit cards as prizes, perks or rewards.
I suggest a VISA instead of a Mastercard, as Mastercard tends to ban or refuse to process payments to places/sites they don't approve of, while VISA has yet to do something like that. I've also had Mastercard payments refused for no reason they will relate to me as the buyer and as the recipient.
A good online anonymous payment method is Privacy.com
Another anonymous online payment method is BLUR
Your credit card likely has an anonymous service as well, called Virtual Card or something similar. You log in and set up another card number which you can use online. This new number is linked to your card, and you can request that purchases with the new number do not show up on your usual statement and that you not recieve paper mail statements. The way it works varies depending on your bank and card provider.