science is death if time is death (part 8)

there was this old man that lived next door to me. he used to sit on his back porch in his underware and stare into my window. my mother couldn't afford curtains and since it was winter we needed the few blankets we had for our beds. there were six of us.

this old man would stare into my window. on the seldom day that no one was home in my house and his wife was at the market or out playing bridge, i would undress for this old man. i would slide off my white panties and expose my scarcely haired vagina. i would look at this old man and the old man would look at me. then he would stand up in his loafers and sweatsocks, slide down his starched boxer shorts and fondle his weathered penis.

he never moved his eyes from mine; never smiled or altered his expression. he just rocked back and forth and waited for me to slip my tiny fingers between my legs. i would stare back at him expressionless. i would bite my lips trying to be unaffeted by this new pleasure...and then my neck weakened and fell's those few times that make me remember.