Creating my Freedom

I knew from a very young age I was pretty, and would never be left alone by men. The first time I remember being hurt was when I was 5, and it was my own grandfather. I thought I had done something wrong because what he wanted from me was something no child should have to endure. I tried to tell my parents, but my dad only said that if someone wanted me to be bad, I needed to tell him. After that, I would keep things to myself, until I finally had enough, told my grandma what had happened, and she divorced him. We had to continue to visit both, since I was too ashamed to say anything, well I didn't say anything until I became a wild teenager and wanted to blame the abuse for the choices I had made.

My first love was a neighbor boy. He was a rival, we had what could only be described as twin syndrome since he was born the day after I was born. Our moms were best friends, but they never knew about the things we did to each other, both the torment and the sex.

My family tried to work a small farm. We lived on a hill, surrounded by woods and a creek. We had horses and cattle, but the farm was more of a hobby farm. My dad worked and served in the military, so mom, my sisters and I tended to be at home alone on any given day, but especially on a weekend or two a month and two weeks in the summer. He was an amazing man, my dad, but he was clueless to all that had happened to me as a child, and I was always afraid to hurt my mom with the hate I felt for her dad.

When I was fourteen, I helped bring in hay for our animals. I would buck the bales onto the trailer until I couldn't reach, then dad would tell me to stay on the trailer and arrange the bales so that we could get as many as we could onto the trailer. I was very strong, and I was very small, not a good combination for trying to work most boys my age found easy. I guess you could say I was pretty developed at that age, it was something I was bullied for in school, and it was something that created unwanted attention. I hadn't lost my virginity when my grandfather kept putting more attention on me than he should, but I knew what a man liked when doing a blow job, and I knew men had a predatory reaction to me. I honestly never knew if it was a pheromonal thing, or a physical pull that caused the unwanted attention, but when I met Caleb, my world completely changed from hurt little girl, to wild teenager. I used my body and mind to manipulate any given situation when it came to boys, and then men.

One night, after hauling hay for my dad, Caleb came to me and asked me if I had ever had sex. I told him no, but I knew he was attracted. Caleb smiled, but didn't say much. We finished the hauling at around two in the morning, and before Caleb left, he kissed me, I grew weak in his embrace. I had never felt this stir in my brain, he was such a good kisser, taking ahold of my waist, pushing my body against a wall of the barn so that I couldn't move, and then he nuzzled my neck and grabbed ahold of my ponytail while urging my mouth open to take his tongue. He explored every part of me with his hands as that kiss grew hotter, then he let go. Somehow, he sensed my father walking into the barn, he made sure we were both presentable, and that nothing appeared to have happened other than a heated conversation about who was doing the most work. We had other helpers, Caleb's older brother was there, and mom had brought out sandwiches which I really didn't want. I was tired and hot and sweaty. I was ready to go inside, shower and then sleep. I would never forget the first kiss I shared with Caleb, I think I compared all kisses I would have in the future to that one we shared.

Our little rural community was tight knit. No one could do anything without it eventually being known by everyone. I never told anyone about that kiss, but somehow when we started back to school, my world would change, and not necessarily for the better. Caleb and I had just turned fifteen a couple of weeks before school started. I had tried out for the cheerleading squad and made it. Caleb was a baseball player. Sports were the best way to kill time in our town. We had three bars, and six churches. Most of the community was Catholic, but there were Christian, Baptist, and even a German church. The Catholic and German churches were the oldest. The bars were full of old veterans, and worn out women who just wanted to relax after a long day of work. A lot of my friends either had parents who went to the bars everyday, or were pious and did their best to imitate the lives of sitcom families from the fifties and sixties. My parents didn't fall into either category. Dad would drink a beer from time to time when a friend would come over with it, but we never really kept the stuff in our home. We went to church three times a week, and rarely cussed, or fought. Most movies the pious thought were inappropriate were not watched in our home, but when "Purple Rain" came out, I was allowed to watch it after a hardcore session of working the farm with dad. I had to wait until three in the morning, but it was worth it. That was when I realized I was growing up, and my parents saw it and let me start making choices for myself.

When I would go to friend's homes, I noticed how different my parents were. They were the youngest parents of all my classmates. I would see other parents at assemblies, but my parents rarely came to town other than for our school events. This created a opportunity for the boys to pursue me, and for me to get up to no good. I was in town all the time. I worked at a local fast food restaurant once I turned sixteen, and cheer kept me in town most nights until nine or later. My parents didn't mind, as long as I told them when I would be late for curfew, and the excuse was a good one.

This was a time in my life when I convinced my parents to let me go to dances, to let me stay with friends before and sometimes after a game. I knew most of the girls hated me because I was constantly having to defend myself in bathroom fights, and sometimes even at parties. I was stubborn and mouthy, but somehow I ended up being best friends with the popular girls. Other cheerleaders whom I spent a lot of time with because cheer was important, and we wanted to leave the best impression of our sport.

This created my wild side. I would do what was necessary to stay popular, but there were some things I really hated, and one was that Caleb took my innocence and then bragged about it while showing malice to me. That made other students think I was a slut, so I decided to live up to that image. I also created my untouchable image when I beat the crap out of Caleb for hurting me after I had given myself to him. I was in love with him, he was my first in so many ways, and he turned it into trash, into gossip, and it made me view sex and boys as a means to an end, not something you really gave much thought to, and definitely nothing you would invest a long term relationship in.