Shattering the Myth (9 page)

They drove me back to the big country manor where my mother and her three sisters grew up. Once I threw my bags in the bedroom where I would be staying, the one that belonged to my mother as a child, I went down to the kitchen to help Grandma stuff the turkey and bake pies for dinner the next day.

Thanksgiving dinner was going to be great because I would get to see my aunts, their husbands, and all of my cousins. My parents were traveling in Europe, so they were going to have to miss it.

After we finished preparing everything, my grandparents and I sat in the living room by the fire and talked about the good old days. Grandpa surprised me by having a pizza delivered. I had never even pictured my grandparents eating something
that wasn't homemade, much less pizza. Times had really, really changed. There was no denying that.

One thing had remained the same, however, and that was how early they went to bed every night. By 9
P.M
., they were both calling the hogs, since they got up around 5
A.M
. every morning. They had retired years before but still rose early by force of habit.

I flipped through the channels of the old floor-model television in the living room, the only television in the entire house. They didn't have cable. There were a few sitcoms on, but none of them interested me. I looked through the bookcase in my grandpa's study, hoping to find something interesting to read. All his books were about carpentry, farming, flyfishing, landscaping, home repair, and things of that nature, so I quickly gave up on the idea.

I quietly went upstairs to my mother's bedroom, undressed, put on a white cotton nightgown, and tried to go ahead and fall asleep. There was no freaking way that was happening, because it was way too early for me.

I was going to hang my garment bag up in her closet, but the closet was packed to the brim with clothing that belonged to her as a teenager. I slipped on my bedroom shoes and went to check and see if there was some space for it in the hallway closet.

I opened the walk-in closet in the hall and found some space for my bag. The closet had a door in the rear of it that led to the attic. I was mad bored, and since there was nothing to watch on television and nothing to read, I elected to explore the attic instead.

I nudged open the door to the attic stairs, which was hard to open and squeaky, being that no one had been up there in years. After ascending the stairs and finding the pull string for the lightbulb, I was surprised to see there were very few spiderwebs
around. However, there was a lot of dust, and I almost turned around in fear my allergies would start acting up.

I was reaching for the string to turn off the light when I noticed an old hope chest in a corner by the window seat. Normally, I am not a nosy person, but something drew me to the chest like a magnet. Besides, my whole point in going up there in the first place was to meddle through family heirlooms and mementos anyway.

I tried to open the chest, but there was a lock on it and the key was nowhere in sight. I shifted through a couple of boxes filled with clothing, cheerleader pom-poms and batons, year-books belonging to my mother and her sisters, and all the usual things until I found an old rusty screwdriver.

I used the flat head of the screwdriver to bust the lock on the chest. It didn't take much effort, since the lock was flimsy after so much time. I sat down on the window seat and started pulling things out. There were several photographs of my grandparents when they were younger, pictures of their wedding, pictures of my mother and aunts as children and teenagers, pictures of my great-grandparents and other family members. There were some old lace handkerchiefs, a couple of hand-knitted cardigans, and even a poodle skirt.

Looking at all the old things made me crack up laughing. I couldn't even relate to times like those. For me, growing up had been so different than the way my mother grew up. I guess one day my daughter, if I have one, will be saying the same thing about me.

After beginning to replace everything back in the trunk neatly, I noticed something stuck at the bottom I hadn't noticed the first time around. I yanked on it and got it free. It turned out to be an old book of some sort with no visible name on the cover. The underside of it was sticky, as if something,
maybe water, had seeped through the trunk over the years and made it adhere to the lining of the trunk.

I was hoping it was some famous classic novel I could take back down to the bedroom and read until I got sleepy. It wasn't until I opened it up that I realized it was a diary.

The first page said, “This Diary Belongs To,” but the name had been smudged, and I couldn't make it out.

I started flipping through it, looking to see if the keeper of the diary signed the pages, but none of them were signed. In fact, only the month and day were at the heading of each page. There was no year written down. I thought that was strange, but since I am not a sleuth or anything, I didn't ponder the fact for very long.

The handwriting was unfamiliar to me, but I knew for sure it wasn't my mother's. I wondered which one of my aunts the diary belonged to. Since I knew it would be inappropriate to read the diary, no matter whose it was, I began to close it so I could put it back. But there was a bookmark in it, and I wanted to see what it said, so I opened it to that particular page.

The bookmark turned out to have a friendship poem imprinted on it, along with a bouquet of flowers. That was not the interesting part, though. Some words caught my eye, and I was shocked.

I sucked his dick, Fingering me
, and
I came so hard
seemed to jump right up off the page at me. I was like “DAYUMMMMMMMMMM!”

I couldn't prevent myself from reading the whole page.

July 4th

I saw my Pookie earlier in the day at the Independence Day Parade. He looked so fine in his football uniform. He marched down Main Street
with the football team and we, the cheerleaders, followed behind them with the marching band
.

Momma wouldn't let me go to the lake with him and the other kids directly after the parade. She made me come home and do all my regular Saturday chores instead. I hurried through them, making sure I would have them all done so she would let me go to see the fireworks
.

I managed to get everything done and she told me I could go. I took a long, hot bath and put on some rosewater so I would smell sweet for my Pookie. I put on a blue dress, a white sweater, some white bobby socks, along with my new pair of saddle shoes, and headed down to the lake where the fireworks show was going to be
.

When I got there, Pookie and his friends had already been there for hours. They were kind of drunk from drinking the moonshine Pookie's Uncle Willy makes in his homemade still
.

I rushed into his arms and he kissed me on my lips, slipping his tongue in my mouth for a brief second. He didn't dare kiss me any more than that in public. He knew if news of it got back to my daddy, we would both be in for a serious whupping
.

The fireworks show began at dusk and all the vibrant lights, mixed with the loud bangs as they went off, were breathtaking. We were sitting on blankets by the lake that was surrounded by all the townspeople
.

About halfway through the show, Pookie took my hand, rolled a blanket up and stuck it under his arm, and told me to come with him. I let him lead the way and we disappeared deep into the trees where no one could possibly see us
.

We found a clearing about 200 yards from the lake and Pookie spread out the blanket on the ground. We could still see the fireworks in the distance yet we had all the privacy we needed
.

I told him my mother told me to come straight home after the fireworks ended and he assured me I would be home early enough that I wouldn't get grounded
.

Then we started doing the things we couldn't do in public. It
wasn't our first time making love because we did it in his daddy's car about a month ago. When I lost my virginity, it hurt at first but then I realized how much I enjoyed it
.

Tonight was even better since I was so much more relaxed. We both were. We started out by French kissing. His tongue was a tad bitter from all the moonshine but I loved it just the same. I have always loved kissing him. He is so passionate and domineering
.

He unbuttoned my sweater and slowly slid it off me. Then he laid me back on the blanket, undid the top part of my dress, reached behind my back, and unclasped my bra
.

After getting my breasts within his grasp, he started sucking on my hard nipples and I was taken aback. My nipples are so sensitive and whenever he sucks them, I can't help but moan from all the pleasure
.

I could look up at the sky and see the fireworks bursting in the air as he pushed my dress up, pushed my panties to the side and started fingering me. It hurt a little since my pussy is still somewhat tight. At one point, I almost shrieked out in pain because he tried to stick three fingers inside me at once
.

Pookie realized how uncomfortable it was making me and took his fingers out of me. I felt bad about it and told him I wanted to try that thing we have been discussing lately; me giving him a blow job
.

He asked me was I sure I was ready to try it and I said yes but that was only partially true. I was nervous but anxious to return the pleasure he gave me when he performed oral sex on me that night in his daddy's car
.

I told him to lie down on his back and I unzipped his pants and took out his hard dick. I just stared at it for a few moments at first because I had never taken a really good look at it
.

After I built up some confidence, I sucked his dick right there in the woods and I would be lying if I said I didn't relish it. I have the feeling sucking Pookie's dick is going to become a favorite pastime of mine
.

I moved my mouth up and down on his dick, taking more and more of it in until I got the whole thing in. Not bad for my first time. He
must have found delight in it because he discharged the contents of his balls in my mouth. His hot cum trickled down my throat and while it was not the best tasting thing in the world, I found it to be quite savory
.

He was so out of breath when it was over, I thought we weren't going to be able to do the actual sex act tonight, but he came back strong in a matter of minutes
.

I could tell the fireworks show was about over because they seemed to be sending up the big combination ones they always do in the grand finale. I told Pookie maybe we should just go, but he told me how much he wanted to be inside me and I melted
.

I laid down again and got in the missionary position so he could stick it in. It went in pretty smoothly; not like the first time when he had to force it in. He started pumping his dick in and out my pussy and lifted up my left leg, holding it up with his shoulder. He took me much harder tonight than before. I guess he figured it was time to take it to the bridge
.

The grand finale of the fireworks was amazing, just like the love Pookie and I were making. He kept going and going at it and I was overcome by how long he lasted. One of my girlfriends told me that boys last longer after they cum the first time. I guess she was right
.

I came so hard that it scared me. I didn't cum at all the first time we did it and so tonight, I experienced my first orgasm. It was amazing. While Pookie was walking me home, I kept replaying my orgasm over and over again in my mind
.

When we got back to the house, he kissed me on my cheek because he knew Daddy was looking out on the front porch through the curtains. I told him I would see him at church tomorrow morning. I can hardly wait. As Pookie walked off, he turned around and said one day he was going to marry me. This might sound crazy, but you know what? I believe him!

After I finished reading the diary entry, I repeated the word, “DAYUMMMMMMMMMM!”

I couldn't believe one of my aunts had written it. I guess
it's always hard to picture people older than me being young and having such experiences.

As I replaced the diary and put all the other things back on top of it, I realized reading it had made my pussy start throbbing. I was so horny and had not a clue what to do. I didn't bring my vibrator or dildo with me on my trip for two reasons. First of all, because I didn't want them to show up on the X-ray machines at the airport and secondly, because who in the hell plans on masturbating while on vacation at their grandparents' house.

I had to do something, so I closed up the trunk and pushed it back in the corner, grabbed a baton from one of the boxes, pulled the string on the light, and then sat back on the window seat. The only light left in the attic came from the moonlight streaming in through the small square window by the seat and the faint light at the bottom of the stairs emitting from the hallway downstairs.

I pulled my nightgown up, pushed my panties out the way, and started fucking myself with one end of the baton. The rubber end and cold metal created a strange sensation, one that turned me on even more.

I pushed more and more of the baton inside me until no more would fit comfortably. I spread my legs open wider and starting grinding my hips on to it like it was a big, juicy dick.

I used my free hand to undo the top two buttons of my gown so I could caress my breasts. I pushed my right one up as far as I could and swiped my tongue back and forth across my erect nipple.

This continued on for a good fifteen minutes. The whole time I was imagining the couple in the story who were faceless to me. Yet the woman was obviously one of my mother's sisters. I was dying to know which one.

After playing the whole excerpt from the diary out in my
mind and fucking myself royally with the baton, I came like a clap of thunder. I sat there for a couple minutes to regain my normal breathing pattern, which had become shallow. It always does after I cum.