A few minutes after Mom drove off, Dad came to where I was fixing the fence and told me to come with him to the barn, that there was something he wanted to teach me. Dad followed me inside the barn and told me to go up into the loft. He had a sly smile on his handsome face and when I got halfway up the ladder he gently smacked my butt. Steve was there, reclining on a blanket draped over the hay, his arm behind his head.
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All they did was moved me from one facility to another. And I saw my attacker again not too long after I tolded on him. Then I paid for it. Because I tolded on him, and he got even with me. So after that, I would not, did not tell again.
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There were thousands of responses to this question, see how your fantasies compare to our survey respondents. Now all I think about is having sex with her in the shower at the gym. Also fake-rape scenario. Not a nice fantasy. I wouldn't want it to happen.
When I was little, my father would drag my sister and me out in the cold morning in camouflage outfits and orange hats to sit with him in a deer stand and practice shooting his gun. This was a necessity for a young boy in the South. While his tutelage never stuck, he might be surprised to learn that I still grew up to be a hunter. All I need is a drawstring shoulder bag carrying my keys, wallet, cell phone, and a douching bulb for emergency visits to the nearest bathroom. Depending on the environment — a dive bar versus a dance club, a bathhouse or a play party — I might be wearing more clothes or less, but the target is the same: men and anal sex.