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My experience as a Lolita
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I'm 28 now and a teacher. I have no steady boyfriend at the moment out of choice and I have had occasional sex with other women over the years. Nothing very advanced, just lying together naked to the waist, talking quietly, kissing and fondling each other's breasts, perhaps a little gentle masturbation. I quite like it but I don't see myself in a relationship with a woman. The secret reason for this rather unexciting sexual activity is that my preference is for much younger partners although of course I do nothing to indulge it. Being a teacher and being daily with schoolchildren satisfies my aesthetic need for their company and my imagination satisfies the rest in my single bed. (Never let anyone tell you that all teachers are not sexually attracted to some or other of their charges at some time.) The reason that I have these unexpressed urges stems, I suspect, from the fact that I am myself a former Lolita. My Humbert was not an erudite and obsessive professor lodging with us. For six months when I was barely pubescent I was the sexual toy, the plaything, the lover even, of our next door neighbour who was then 45 years of age and had daughters of his own with whom I was friends. He never made my do anything I didn't want to and when I said I wanted to stop, he stopped. Afterwards, they contined to live next door and I reverted to treating him like any other neighbour. He's dead now so I'm alone with our secret. How did it start ? I knew nothing about sex except that it happened between big people. I was as unlike Sue Lyons as it was possible to be, skinny and awkward. My hair was usually a mess, my chest was flat and my vagina was hairless. I had discovered touching myself between the lips of my vagina gave me exciting sensations but it made me feel guilty and I tried unsuccessfully not to do it. When I was older, I found I had actually resembled Nabokov's Lolita physically but I found it hard to believe that anyone, still less a man of 45, could have discerned sex appeal in me. However, he did. I went to their house one afternoon to see his daughters and found our neighbour alone. He showed me a magazine he was reading and as he did so, he gently but purposefully slid his hand under my skirt, up the inside of my bare thigh and pressed it between my legs. I think I started away from him but he gripped my leg and my struggle went no further. He pulled me onto his knee and kissed my cheek and asked me very calmly and soothingly if he could take my clothes off. I remember I was wearing just a light summer dress and panties. Once I was naked, he caressed me all over my body with his hands and lips. I didn't feel either embarrassed or frightened. He slipped his finger between the lips of my vagina and I saw he knew the spot that gave me pleasure. We began kissing softly – everything was very gentle – and he asked me permission to take his own clothes off. I'd seen my dad naked but never with an erection. That day, we just stroked each other's bodies and masturbated. He also put his fingers in my vagina which I'd never even done myself before. He told me I was pretty and I believed him although I had never thought I was at all pretty. I was happy when I went home later and had no bad feelings or guilt. I was proud of seeing a grown man naked and being allowed to touch him. He devised ways for us to meet secretly and we were never caught. I didn't always allow him to put his penis in my vagina and I wouldn't let him put it in my bottom at all because it hurt. But I did learn to let him put it in my mouth and come there. We spent long hours just playing with each other. And then we stopped. I think we were both increasingly afraid we'd be caught sometime and he accepted without demur when I told him I didn't want to do it any more. I never knew if he found other girls afterwards. He told me I was the first and that he hadn't felt the urge before. It was three or four years later when my body had developed that I started to have sex with boys though I didn't go as far as I had with my neighour until much later. In fact I wasn't fucked again until I was 20. So that's my story, not a very glamorous one compared to Lolita's. Was I damaged ? I read a lot about child sex abuse when I was at university and I don't think I was. I sometimes think with real pleasure of the experience while I'm masturbating and I don't really know if my own illicit urges are a result. I could well have had them anyway. What I do know is that I'll never give in to them.
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Posted on : Jan 1, 2016
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