Date: Wed, 08 May 2002 23:23:19 -0500 From: bobby blue Subject: children of the night - the prequel The Children of the Night The Beginning The usual disclaimers and copyrights apply here. If you don't like stories about kids enjoying life--including its sexual aspects--then read no further, because that's what this story is about. My thanks to Edward Arlington Robinson for writing the poem which inspired me to write this and other stories. If you wish to e-mail me with criticisms, praise or story ideas, contact me at blbobby2@hotmail.com. The Children of the Night By Edwin Arlington Robinson For those that never know the light, The darkness is a sullen thing; And they, the Children of the Night, Seem lost in Fortune's winnowing. Let us, the Children of the Night, Put off the cloak that hides the scar! Let us be Children of the Light, And tell the ages what we are! If you happened to be alive in the summer of 1959, that's when this story takes place, you might recognize the time, and if you ever lived in a medium-sized city back then, you might recognize the park. If you were ever twelve years old and on the verge of promise and enthusiasm, just passing beyond cruel and lovely innocence, then you will recognize the magic. Most prepubescent teen-agers cease to believe in magic, just at the point where real magic takes place in their bodies, and in their lives. This is the story of two kids, a boy and a girl, and an enchanted amusement park. "Well, I hope you are satisfied," my Mother said as she closed the suitcase. "You are gone off to school during the school year, and now you are going to spend the summer with your aunt Lola. I'll never get to see you as a kid." "I would think that would make you happy," I said, knowing it would hurt my Mother. It seemed that since my twelfth birthday last spring, I had two vocal tones when dealing with adults: surly, and bored. That's because I had two moods: surly and bored. "Don't talk to your Mother that way," my Dad growled. He, on the other hand, had one tone he used with kids, bark. "Yes sir," I said. "I'm sorry, Mom." I might be blind, but I wasn't dumb. I knew when surly was not advantageous to continued existence. Besides, I really didn't want to hurt my Mother, we loved each other, but we just weren't getting along at that time. I think it was primarily my antisocial glands kicking in, and her fearful maternal glands kicking back. My name is Bob, and I am totally blind, and have been since birth. I tell you this, because it's an integral part of the story, not because it defines me. For the moment just pretend that I'm just like you, but my eyes don't work. They never have, so it's not a frightening thing nor sad, nor anything but a fact. I attended the State supported school for the blind from each September until May since I was six years old. So, I guess my Mother had a good reason for fearing I would grow up without her. But now I was getting a chance to show my folks just how independent I could be. I was going to spend the summer with aunt Lola. She and Uncle Al both worked, so I would have the day time to myself. She was the only relative I had who believed I was able to take care of myself, and would let me do anything she would let any other kid my age do. What was even better, she lived a short bus ride from an amusement park, and said I could go there during the day. Even my wimpy sister was jealous over that one. My older brother, who was fifteen, could care less; but, nothing impressed him these days. This amusement park, though, was special. It was one of the old kind with fortune tellers, rides, games for a penny, and the like. The park was probably built sometime in the nineteen twenties, and had never been updated since then. Every time I entered the gate to that park, I felt like I was walking onto the set of a Boris Carlof horror flick. I imagined horrible scenes of magic, torture and unspeakable crimes against nature going on behind the scenes. They had this fun house, you know with mirrors that made you look chubby or emaciated, whatever. And then there was this special room that once you entered it, the room was pitch black. The attraction for me was that everyone in there was blind, and blind was the accepted norm. For lack of anything else to do, I started hanging around this dark room. Mostly I just guided people through when they got lost; they never knew I was any different from themselves. However, sometimes I had a little mischievous fun. Whole Families would go in there, and when they would get together in a bunch, they would start trying to figure out who was who, laughing and talking loud the whole time. You know, put your hand on someone's head feel their face, and identify your little brother. I would get mixed up in their little crowd and just not say anything. The responses were hilarious. They would be touching each other unashamedly (after all this was family, right?) and saying "is that you, Blake," or something like that. Some wise guy would eventually count heads and find that their family had grown by one. When I was asked a direct question, like "who are you" I would melt back into the next room. The funniest part, I thought, was when they would start getting the idea that there was a "sleeper in the wood pile" and mom or dad would assert their authority, and, quite often blame some other kid for being the outcast. I would usually find the smallest member of the group and keep him close in case I needed to nudge him in between me and an angry parent. Mostly, though, I just waited in that room listening to Jimmy Clanton sing "just a dream" for about the thousandth time. At that time the song had no special meaning for me, but later it would throw me into peroxicisms of teen-age lust and love. The owner, whose name was Ralph, was a neat gruff type of guy. He allowed me to hang around the park and that room without spending any money. He said that my helping people through the dark room saved him the chore of having to go in and rescue them. In fact, he would pay me some times--not in money but cigarettes. Finally, however, my solitary roguish games in that room ended abruptly. I was reading the short stories of Edgar Alan Poe. Braille is a wonderful pastime in a pitch black room. Slowly, by degrees, I became aware that there was someone else in the room with me. They hadn't made any discernible noise, but there was a different smell. It wasn't unpleasant, or suddenly overwhelming. I became aware of it slowly. There was a person smell, the kind that broadcasts itself to dogs and blind people that Man is near. There was also something else; perhaps, the slightest hint of perfume, maybe. She, if it was a she, came into the room, just like any tourist, and started to stumble around like she was lost. So, I went into my superhero mode and took her by the arm to lead her out. She grabbed me in a very inappropriate area. I let go and backed off. This might have just been an accident but... I had heard about perverts in the park, but had never encountered any. I mentally began to prepare my defense--figuring that I had a distinct advantage in this room. I tried my usual fade away in the next room, but she was there in front of me blocking my way. I turned to another exit, and she was there, touching me again--mind you, not sexually, but ugh teasingly. I tried standing still, not making any noise, and she did the same. The second I moved a muscle, she grabbed me again. I was getting desperate. We went around and around that room for about fifteen minutes. I was completely serious; I thought I was fighting for my life. I even tried grabbing for her, but she deftly moved aside every time. "If I let you go, will you be my slave?" she asked. It was a girl, a kid girl about my on age! She told me that her name was Sandy, and she was the owner's daughter. It turned out she had a bright flashlight, and could see every move I made. I was so overjoyed when I found out it was another kid my own age. Sandy and I became bosom buddies that summer. We ate about a hundred pounds of cotton candy, spent hours on the roller coaster, swings, etc. All of it was free since her Dad own the park. Most importantly, we talked--Lord we talked--we could tell each other anything. I found that I could tell her about the loneliness of being different. Sandy was, a little overweight, and had very bad complexion, and was very self-conscious about it. She was very accepting of my blindness, without ever being taught how to be. And, hell, I didn't criticize her for her appearance. Why should I. We got where we would do battle with other kids for territorial rights to the park. They called us blind and ugly. They always regretted those words. We worked well together, I was strong for my age and took wrestling at school. Sandy was imaginative and resourceful. Our favorite weapon was snow cone juice in a water pistol. The liquid wouldn't do any immediate damage, but the gnats and mosquitoes that were attracted by it sure did. We couldn't win all the battles, though. If worse came to worse, her Dad would interfere, or most of the police that watched the park knew us and would take our side. In fact, one of our city's finest took me home one evening after I had been bloodied over rights to the roller coaster. Sandy and I became girlfriend/boyfriend near the end of that summer. We even tried sex, but neither of us knew exactly what to put where. We decided we would rather eat cotton candy. Her Dad, realizing that we wouldn't remain ignorant very long, started finding things for her to do when I was around, so we didn't have as much time together as we would have liked. When I returned home to prepare to go back to school, we swore to be faithful, and that as soon as we grew up, we would get married. I couldn't explain to my Mother that indeed I had grown up a little in her absence, but I think she understood. That fall when I went back to the school for the Blind, Sandy and I corresponded for a while, but we each got interested in other things and other people, and never saw each other again. I went back to the park a couple of years later, and found that it was under the ownership of someone else. He said that he thought the previous owner had died of cancer, and that his family had moved away to Nebraska. Though I never saw Sandy again, I will remember that summer of the "blind and ugly" as a time when I found one of the truest friends I ever had. ***** After my vacation in the big city, I could barely stand the small town in which my parents, older brother and younger sister chose to live, but, being too young to move out on my own, I had to return to the mediocrity of our town. Then my Mother broke the news that to make matters worse, we were going to visit our cousins who didn't even live in a town: they lived in the country, for God's sakes. What could you experience in the country? Absolutely nothing! My Uncle Bob (for whom I was named), my mother's younger brother, had just married a lady with two kids. My sister and I called them Ellie May and Jethro (after the kids on the Beverly hill-billies). The boy, who was nine years old, was actually named Barry, really was a nerd, but I secretly thought his sister, Maggie was pretty cool. Maggie and I were about the same age. She was probably the kindest hearted, honest person I've ever met. But, the truth of that realization was to come later. For now, let's just say she was very nice. If you've read any of my previous stories, you know that I am totally blind. Most people either treat me like a modern day miracle worker, ("why, he can walk!") or like an object of pathos ("pobre cito"). Maggie, from the outset treated me like another kid. The first thing she said to me was that I sure was skinny. True, but it could have gone unsaid. So, when we got to my aunt's and uncle's house, my sister and older brother ignored everybody and did their teen-age thing: my sister stayed in the house surrounded by the girly magazines she brought from home; and my brother listened to the radio, a relatively new kind of music called rock-'n-roll. Maggie and I ignored them all. We did her chores around the farm, (actually, she did them and I just got in the way.) This included milking the cows and feeding the chickens, cows and horses. On the day before we were to leave, she said "you want to go swimming in the river?" and I readily agreed. "After that," she said, "we can go horseback riding." This sounded great to me as I had never been horseback riding before. However, the swimming turned out to be a bit of a problem. I didn't have a swim suit, and all my shorts were in the dirty clothes. My aunt came to the rescue, though, and gave me an old pair of Barry's trunks that were only two sizes to small for me. Once I had squeezed into them, they made me legal, just barely. I remember thinking that if I got a boner, I was going to be in real trouble. But the potential embarrassment was worth it. My sister and brother declined, and Barry was off at summer school. So, Maggie and I took off for the river. Despite my excitement, I found the river gross. I hadn't thought about the moss and the slimy bottom. However, I hid my squeamishness from Maggie. I just ventured out as little as was possible. So, we wound up talking. "Do you have a girlfriend?" Maggie asked. I considered telling her about Sandy, a girl I had met earlier that summer, but decided it might be in my best interest to deny her. "No," I said. "Do you have a boyfriend?" "No, most guys say I talk too much. Do you think I talk too much?" she asked. "No," I said. "I like to hear you talk. You have a nice voice, and you have interesting things to say. I bet you're pretty, too." "Silly, if you could see you wouldn't think so." "Bet I would," I said. We began to argue about it. "Would" "Would not." "Would." "Would not." Finally she threw water in my face and started to swim away. I chased her through the water splashing water at her the whole while. Finally, with a final thrust of speed I caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm. "I'm going to see what you look like," I said, placing my hands on her face. I thought she would struggle and begin the fight again, but she just stood there. I think she wanted to know if I thought she was pretty. I began gingerly touching her face and talking all the time. "Oh, what big eyes you have, little girl," I said. "What color are they?" "Blue," she said. "And what a cute little nose you have. And, what a big mouth you have," I said teasingly. "The better to eat you with," she said, pushing my finger into her mouth and sucking on it. I moved it around in her mouth, touching her tongue, the roof of her mouth and her teeth. "Let me go," I said "or we'll never finish this exploration." She opened her mouth and I withdrew my finger. "And, what nice shoulders you have. Lifting lots of bales of hay, I'll bet." "And--" I stood there speechless my hands resting on her small but firm breasts. She reached up and moved my hands to her waist. I quickly completed the tour making sure I didn't stray into forbidden territory again. I was a little excited, but mostly embarrassed. Besides, there was the problems with the swim suit, you know. Finally, I concluded, "Maggie, you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." I didn't bother to explain that my experiences were extremely limited. "I think you're sweet for saying that," she said. "Now, let's go horseback riding." So, we went off to the barn to ride horses. I didn't want to tell Maggie that not only had I not ridden a horse before, I hadn't touched one since I was a little kid, and had no idea what to do. I shouldn't have worried, though, I think Maggie understood my problem without my having to say anything. "My horse, Brownie, is a big horse. He'll hold both of us." I didn't argue. We used her dad's saddle since it would hold both of us, and she got on in front, and I got on behind her. I was surprised to see how huge the horse was. Not only could we ride this horse, I thought, we could live on it. We took off slowly enough. Maggie was an excellent rider. I put my hands on her hips, and she held on to the saddle-horn. I marveled at how relaxed she seemed. "Relax, and just flow with the horse," she instructed. I tried it, but I was still bouncing all around. She laughed at my attempts to stay in the saddle. "Silly, just relax." We rode at a slow gait for sometime, and I did start to relax. I found that as long as I was relaxed, I didn't have to work at staying in the saddle. However, once I thought about it, I was in trouble again. Finally, she increased the horse's speed to a trot, and it was great: rough but great. I kept trying to talk to her, but my voice was shaking all over the place. We laughed about that. "O.k..," she said "let's go." and she increased the speed to a gallop. Now that was great. Gone were the shakes, and gone was the feeling of having to work to stay in the saddle. It was just a steady up and down motion, and that was my undoing. I realized that my pecker, which had been under severe restraints all day, had given in to the pressures of the day, and sprung alive. The only place it could go was down the skimpy leg of the size -2 swim shorts. These, however, were moved way up on my leg because of the girth of the horse. In other words, my pecker was very very close to daylight. To make matters worse, I had slid forward in the saddle and was rubbing my already stimulated prick against Maggie's butt. My body was feeling feelings it had never felt before. A feeling of excitement was welling up inside me, and I didn't know what to do with it. Suddenly, I felt like I was going to wet my pants, or something. It was exactly the feeling of needing to pee, but it was something needing immediate action. "Maggie," I said, "please stop the horse. I need to go to the bathroom really really bad." She started giggling, which started me giggling. This distraction took my mind off my "problem" and relieved some of the pressure. "We're near the barn," she said. "We'll stop in there." And we did. But, once we stopped, I didn't, couldn't, get off. My suit was sticking out like a tent. Maggie got off first to hold the horse, while I made my awkward descent. As soon as my feet hit the ground, Maggie started to laugh out loud. "What's wrong," I asked. "I can see your thingy," she said, without embarrassment. I quickly turned my back and tried to rearrange that little suit. I don't think I helped things much. When I turned back around, Maggie said, "Can I touch it? I've never touched one before." "Yeah, I guess so," I said. She took my hand and led me into the barn. Then she stopped in front of me saying nothing. "You promise not to tell anyone, or laugh, or anything?" I said. I was truly embarrassed and excited. "Oh no, I won't tell anyone," she said breathlessly. For the first time, I noticed that her voice was very shaky. She was as excited and scared as I was. Finally, the moment of truth was upon us. I could have backed out, I could have turned and ran, but I pulled my trunks down. "It's so big," she said. Hell yes, I was sporting about four inches that year, but to the naive "big" is relative to one's experience. Apparently our combined experiences averaged out to about zero. "Would you like to touch it?" I asked. "Could I," she whispered. [Would you] I wanted to yell, but all I said was "yes." She hesitantly reached out with one finger and lightly touched it. I reached down and firmly put her hand on it. She was shaking very violently, and I was afraid she was going to run away in fear. I reached out and put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to me. She snuggled her face into my shoulder. "Can I see yours?" I asked. I had only seen one other girl's before, and wasn't sure what to expect. "No," she said, "I don't think that would be wise." "Well, o.k., if you say so," I said. The disappointment was obvious in my tone. "I'll show you, if you promise never to tell anyone," she whispered. I've kept that promise until today. "Let's go up to the hay loft," she said. For the first time I was very aware of my nakedness, and it embarrassed me. She led me to the ladder that went to the hay loft, and I let her go first, very aware of my awkwardness, trying to climb the ladder and protect my family jewels at the same time. When we got to the loft she led me to a bale of hay and I sat down. I could hear her removing her bathing suit next to me, and the thrill once more awakened my overactive member. "O.k., I'm ready," she said. She was standing in front of me and I put my hand out in front of me and felt her stomach. I slowly moved it down and encountered a sparse patch of hair. That was interesting, as I didn't have much hair down there at all. Then I moved down between her legs and found her little slit. It was very moist, but, I realized, it was neither pee nor river water. It was kind of like slime, but exciting slime. I slowly moved my finger inside her and heard an intake of breath. I believed that the way to excite a woman was to reach as far in her as you could. Therefore, I started digging for gold. She soon stopped me, and showed me where to touch her. As I lightly touched her clitoris, she began to move her hips back and forth. I took my other hand, and guided her to the hay next to me. Then I turned her face and kissed her. It was a tentative kiss, but apparently successful, as she began to press her body against mine. I pressed her back against the hay until she was laying down, and placed my body between her legs. Still moving my fingers just inside her pussy I moved my dick to the entrance. Moving my hand out of the way I began to nuzzle her breasts. She was breathing quickly by now. I gave a little press with my dick and it slipped inside her. I don't even think I was big enough to break her hymen, because she seemed to feel pleasure with no pain. We both, not knowing what to do, began to move back and forth very quickly. I felt the return of that pressure which I had known earlier on the horse. It was building up very quickly. I didn't know it then, but I was about to cum. >From a long way away I heard Maggie say, "stop, Bobby." "Please stop, I don't want to get pregnant." I had never thought of that. It had the same effect as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on me. Thoughts of the family meetings that would take place, were she to get pregnant with my baby, caused me to shudder. I didn't realize that I was probably to sexually immature to produce sperm. Had I known that I would have finished the act, and my entire future might be different. But, I didn't. Maggie and I got dressed, and swore our undivided love for one another. But, already my thoughts were drifting back to the farmhouse and the planned trip back home tomorrow and my trip to the school for the blind that was my true life. Maggie and I never got together again, nor did we ever talk of the incident. However, I sure did think about it a lot. It was the cause of many pleasurable fantasies, once I learned to masturbate.