I was a quiet kid to begin with. Living in a rural area, had few friends. Even in school, didn't talk to many people. Didn't want them to find out what home life was like. Parents never missed an opportunity to tell me how ugly I was or how stupid. “Think, idiot, think” while tapping me on the forehead was their favorite pastime.
Roger lived 2 doors down from me. He was a tall, slim middle aged man. He spent alot of time in the pole barn behind his house. I liked going there because he always had a smile for me & something nice to say.
It was my 8th birthday only there was no cake & ice cream or friends to share it with. Feeling sad about my forgotten birthday, went to Rogers. I'm not sure how it started exactly, but he wanted me to sit on his lap, facing him. i did so laying my head on his shoulder & my arms around his chest. Sliding his hands under my shirt, he started rubbing my back, telling me how soft my skin was,that he liked being with me. My shirt first, then one by one, other pieces of our clothes came off.
I clung to him as his big hands gently rubbed, carressed, massaged me all over. It felt like he was touching me everywhere @ the same time. It felt I would sink into him. I hoped he would never stop.
He had me change my position some when I felt him slide himself inside of me. It hurt some but it was ok because I trusted him. He made sit noises as he moved his hips. To my 8 year old self, It felt like I was pooping in instead of out. When he was done, we got dressed & i went home.
Would visit several times a week. Loved spend ing time there. He would always ask how I got some bruise or how I got hurt. Would tell him I fell off my bike. Hoped he didn't suspect my parents, but 6 months after my 8th birthday a lady came. She took me to my 1st foster home.