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Author Topic: Thanksgiving 1969  (Read 187 times)
3t11
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« on: August 27, 2016, 02:08:52 PM »

She stands beneath the high window
The only window in the attic
Late November wind whistles
through the limbs of the giant
oak tree
She can see the limbs swaying
through the dirty glass.
She wishes she could see
the wind
Two stories down she hears
their voices
her dad, mom, giggling little sister
her granny in the kitchen
the sound of the television
daddy watching Thanksgiving football
everyone happy
She sees him sitting on the old chest
slumped down, legs spread, trousers open
she hears his voice and moves closer
dance, sweetie!
she hears and she dances
she spins and twirls the hem
of her blue dress bellowing
He calls her closer
she obeys like before
it sticks up, ugly, swollen,
a blue-veined monster
the purple crown, wet and glistening
he moves it slowly
pulling the loose skin
up and down.
She doesn't watch
but focuses on the tiny window
his hands on her legs
sliding up
playing on the lacy border
of nylon panties.
Big hands clutch her behind
a small little cheek in each hand
draws her closer
the blue-veined, monster
presses her new panties
powder-blue nylon
the moist knob rubbing against
her hidden secret
He moans rocks her to and fro
the monster pushes
wants a kiss from her
bald secret
He pauses works down
the tiny bikini panties
she holds up her hem
but doesn't look
as her saddle
slowly rides the monster
she doesn't want it to
feel good but it does
always does
and like always she's
soon on tiptoes
as that funny feeling
explodes somewhere inside
just as the monster  spits
hot gooy cream on her
special secret making
it and the cotton crotch
of her tiny panties wet and
sticky
now she watches
as he wipes her secret
and the monster
with the soft white tissue.
He tugs her little panties
back into place
tenderly hugs her
then kisses her sweet mouth
not a daddy kiss
she knows
but a kiss she doesn't understand
just like the special games
the special secrets
they share
the secrets a niece always
shares with her
special uncle
but she's only five and
wonders
should she?
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My writing is somewhat suspect, which I suppose makes me suspect as well...the irony of it all is I love being wrapped in mystery leaving my readers even more suspicious...welcome to the other side, the side where few tread and those who do refuse to remain but only for a moment...then flee to the light.
Neighbor
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« Reply #1 on: August 27, 2016, 06:22:33 PM »

Nicely done.
- Conveys her innocence, and her willingness
- Suspends the reader's desire to disapprove or "rescue"
- Provides a gritty realistic still-picture of that "secret upstairs room" not far from the ongoing family gathering in the yard below
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3t11
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« Reply #2 on: August 27, 2016, 09:46:36 PM »

think you, Neighbor
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My writing is somewhat suspect, which I suppose makes me suspect as well...the irony of it all is I love being wrapped in mystery leaving my readers even more suspicious...welcome to the other side, the side where few tread and those who do refuse to remain but only for a moment...then flee to the light.
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