How could this story possibly continue from a place of childhood and adolescent trauma to become something pleasurable and sensual?
Well, it just does, from my perspective. Life isn’t always pretty and memories aren’t exactly linear. Not really.
I’ve played and replayed this particular memory of Ming in my head, for years, because it happened so soon after first becoming sexually active. But also, for the simple reason that it still turns me on to recall it.
I wholly believe that you become and reflect the people in your life, in different ways. And part of who I am reflects the friends and lovers [i.e. Asian men] in my life. The good, the bad and the neutral.
Please keep in mind… My attitude and general behavior has changed in various ways as I’ve grown.
So, while the first two parts of this story were entirely, unfortunately true… the rest is pulled from what memory serves me. And a few things have been altered and omitted.
Men, and women, who are turned on by genuine female humiliation would definitely enjoy peering in to my past.
Sean glanced down at my bare thighs and said flatly, “Why are you dressed like that?”
Back then I was into wearing very short, plaid pleated skirts with knee high and thigh high stockings, tight white button-up shirts and my form-fitted black leather jacket. (Again, really.. I am not into manga comics)
So I’ll fill in the rest… smudged eyeliner, the smokey-eyed look, and little braids throughout my wavy, dark blonde hair. (Like many who start out as a *towhead, my hair gradually turned darker into my 20s.)
And soft red-tinted lipstain, which I still wear… even now. Oh yeah, and I forgot… mace in the left pocket and a switchblade or butterfly knife in the other. Yeah, sadly, I carried them for several years.
“Really, Sean? Are you that prudish? Wanna be my big brother?”
He just smiled as though he had suddenly made up his mind about something.
“Hey. Do you ever wonder where your friend disappears to every day, right after swim practice? Do you know?”
This abrupt change of topic stunned me. “Who friend… Uhhhm… what? Who?”
“You’re friend, April.”
“Oh. Who knows. She doesn’t even like to swim. I dunno. Are you telling me something?”
“Not really. Just wondering.”
And in that instant I concluded that he must be interested in “my friend” and had befriended me to learn more about her. I felt a wave of disappointment run over me but I smiled and said something like, “Right. Well, yeah. April’s a cool girl.”
And then I performed my infamous magic trick of transforming into a little squid … nicey nice talk finished with a formal exit then disappearing behind a cloud of black ink.
An ex beau used to say, “How do you vanish, right before my eyes, like that?” –By embracing impermanence, especially in the face of what [or who] harms me.
…and later that day I’m just another fellow classmate and it’s as though our roles had reversed. Him vying for my attention and me: Yeah? Can I help you with something?
He attempted to get my attention as I passed him in my swimsuit. “Hey, Cerise… Hey.” Usually I would slow down to smile at him or silently stand in his path so that he would bump into me. (I still pull that one, almost habitually.)
But, I scurried briskly past him, pretending not to hear his voice. Yeah, childish. I know. Ha..
After practice I had showered and was back in the same clothes.
He had waited for me.
“Hey, Cerise. What’s up with you?” And he motions with his finger for me to follow him into this forgotten old storage room behind Coach’s office.”
“C’mon. I wanna show you something but you have to keep quiet, ok? No one is actually allowed in here.”
I’m thinking, Great. Now he’s dragging me into this dusty old room, covered in cobwebs, to show me some old sports artifact as a way to broach the subject of April again. I should just invite him to go somewhere with me and April and just get this over with.
And then he stood there looking sexy with his wet black hair slicked back, wearing a damp, fitted white teeshirt and loose, filmy nylon gym shorts. I was trying hard not to look at his bulge. And failing.
Then he pointed to a finger-sized hole in the wall, caused by a crack in the plaster.
He says “Go ahead. Look.” then turned to shut the door behind him and flipped on the light. One flickered several seconds then went out but there was still plenty of light for that tiny space. Enough to see one another.
“So, what is it.”
“Shhhhhhhhhhh…” He was holding his finger over his lips and so I realized that we were being sneaky for some reason. The reason being in the next room over. Coach’s office?
So, I went to the wall, leaned in, and peered straight into Coach Matoki’s office with a direct view of his desk no more than 8 feet away. And there they were…
April, on top of Coach Matoki’s desk, and him with one hand up her skirt and another supporting her back while sucking one of her breasts.
It all came clear now… April’s recent fixation on anything/everything Japanese covering her walls, a drawer full of manga comics. (These days she would easily be labeled a weeaboo) And why she isn’t really on the swim team but isn’t not on the team. Now it made sense.
I turned back to Sean with eyes wide, mouthing the words, “Oh my god. WhatheFuck?!”
Sean took his finger and lifted my chin to close my mouth then motioned back towards the hole with his eyes and whispered, “Tell me. What’s happening?”
I was pretty shocked. Not exactly what I expected him to show me and I was immediately, genuinely embarrassed. If it had been anyone one else I would’ve walked out of that storage room right then.
“Oh god… I can’t. Are you serious? I don’t think I can.” And I covered my nose and mouth with both hands.
“Holy shit. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe him! What the Hell is she thinking?!”
I don’t know if very many people can say this… but it is quite awkward to witness a friend having sex with a teacher. Not to mention that it’s clearly a breach of trust and contract on his part.
However, I looked at Sean’s face and… Was that lust? I was shrinking up, palms sweating, and cheeks getting really warm… and he stepped closer to me. He was getting to see this “tough girl” shrink in front of him. And I was just trying to control my breathing, struggling to retain my coolness.
“It’s ok. Don’t worry. It’s only me. It’ll be our little secret”.
My cheeks turned deep red and I backed away but he put one hand on my abdomen and the other on my back and pushed me back up to the hole and kept his hands there. Then whispered into my ear, “Look. What are they doing? Tell me.”
I was getting turned on just by feeling his warm, strong hands on me… but also from the embarrassing and obscene predicament he had me in.
I said, “Jeeez… Who are you?” and he whispered, “It’ll be our secret” and his warm breath and closeness and those lovely, piercing dark eyes did me in. Those narrow, long, thickly hooded eyes that I have a terrible weakness for…
I peered back through the hole, cleared my throat and nervously whispered, “Ummm… she’s naked, lying back on his desk… and ummm he’s licking…”
—Continues to Part III
* tow·head (ˈtōˌhed) noun – a head of tow-colored or very blond hair. i.e. a person with very blond hair.