*This tale might be true. Or it might not be, so take your pick.*
There’s something special about the number 7. A good number of people consider it lucky, so it’s no surprise that hitting triple sevens while gambling usually means something momentous. A week has 7 days in it, but you already knew that. There are 7 deadly sins, and there will be the 7 trumpets that will change the world as we know it, according to Revelations. The 7th day of the week is dubbed the day of rest. The Jewish menorah holds 7 candles. A ladybug has 7 spots. The great King David was the 7th son of Jesse. Shoot, there even are 7 other planets in our solar system. There are 7 orifices in the head and if you’re reading this, you were 7 years old once.
I still remember some stuff about being 7 years old. Like, I got to go visit my Dad who I hadn’t seen for a minute, and that was good. Then, I almost drowned after ingesting what had felt like half the ocean, but that’s another story. A ram in the farm almost made mincemeat of yours truly that year. Later on that year thugs came to the crib and took everything, including the watch my Dad had given me earlier that year. [I was livid, as amusingly furious as a 7-year-old can be] Perhaps the event that came 2nd, in order of importance, was that I learned first hand that women are horny bastards.
It all started one day when my Moms was gone over to Unc’s house for the day. It was a weekend, probably on a Saturday, and my other siblings were away at boarding school, poor bastards. [In a few years that would be me too, damn] That left only yours truly at the crib being babysat by the Mboch. She was a neighborhood girl who had just finished high school and needed some extra cheddar. I still remember how she looked like to this day – medium-dark complexion, nice & trim, shoulder-length hair perpetually scrunchied-up, and tall. But then again, everyone was taller than me then. As it turned out though, things were soon to become plenty interesting.
I was still too young to do a lot of the usual chores, so I knocked out my little chores real quick, then had nothing to do. All I’d had to do was feed the cats, the dogs, the rabbits and the chicks. [The ones with beaks and wings I mean, not a bunch of hungry women] After all that I decided to go indoors and read some books, for lack of other entertainment. So, I sauntered over to my room headed right for my stash of kiddie reading material sitting on some shelf, when a commotion in the general direction of the bed made me glance in that direction.
That image is seared into my brain as surely as a brand is impressed on livestock, I kid you not. Mboch was lying on her back on my brother’s bed. Prior to acknowledging my presence, her eyes were shut and there was some strange look on her face that I couldn’t decipher at the time. Her t-shirt was hiked up such that her right breast was exposed and the left one wasn’t. The exposed mound was half-covered by her left hand and the extremities of her right hand were lost in the crevice between her thighs. Her hips were rolling in some rhythm that only she could hear, as were her hands. Her mouth was half-open and there a thin film of moisture on her brow. These undulations proceeded for a few indelible moments – till she sensed there was someone else in the room, namely me.
Now that I think about it, she probably should’ve been shook or embarrassed or something of the sort, but she wasn’t in the least. I don’t remember exactly what she said to me, but what she’d said must’ve held some sort of appeal for me coz before I knew it, I was inching toward the bed! Naturally, being 7, I had virtually no idea about the whole sex thing at the time, not at all. Granted, I was slow walking toward her, but the look on her face had me transfixed – I was powerless to resist! Before I could say a thing, she pointed at the exposed boob and asked – no, ORDERED – me to suckle it, like a baby would. Before I knew it I was trying to get milk out of that sucker. I was then straddling her belly, small as I was, and she seemed to be quite OK with that, but the workings of my miniature mouth on her nipple seemed to inflame her further and she writhed quite a bit more, though to me it was all about the milk.
This went on for a couple of minutes and I was getting frustrated by my futile efforts, but I distinctly remember her body stiffening, and she holding her breath, then letting it all out in one big sigh. She then lay there, not moving a muscle for like 10-15 seconds, when she suddenly got up and unceremoniously picked me up off her and deposited me on the floor, pulled down her t-shirt, got up from the bed, straightened down her skirt and went out the room like nothing happened. I remember staring at her vanishing figure, mentally shrugging, then going back to messing with my books.
Ain’t that some sh*t? I got played! I feel used! [not]
I clean forgot about the incident for some years till the hormones kicked in while in my teens, and I haven’t forgotten it since. And why would I?