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Once Upon A Childhood
by Peter Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)

***

Completely true in every detail, I remember after all 
these years, how she sat, the little silver bracelet 
she wore on her left wrist – even the charm that hung 
off it – a small fish. I can describe her dress, her 
shoes... slip-ons actually, smell her hair, hear her 
soft voice – tell you what the weather was like. I 
don't have to imagine the tears which come to my eyes 
as I write this either. She was so ethereally beautiful 
and I would give anything to be able to go back to her 
and that time so long ago. I never ever wanted to grow 
up. It was the cruellest thing ever happened to me. 
(mf-teens, rom, 1st)

***

Of course, having five children now, more than 
compensates for my lost childhood and I love them more 
than life itself, but Ruth was my first real experience 
and with all the limited knowledge of worldly things I 
possessed at thirteen, I loved her with every emotion 
that crowded in upon me. 

The incident is mentioned briefly in a companion 
autobiography I have just published, "Cool Among the 
Flames" compiled mainly to shut my second eldest 
daughter up, as she kept demanding to know what I had 
been doing with my life the last forty years or so. It 
does not however plumb the emotional and physical 
depths that I am about to relate to you. It is I admit, 
a very slow-to-develop recollection, nothing wondrous 
and impassioned should ever be rushed should it?

Living then in the county of Kent, just a couple of 
miles outside the Greater London border, I grew up 
cocooned in a world of Harry Potter type kids all with 
their middle-class Brit accents. Ruth herself was so 
very like Emma Watson who plays Hermione in the HP 
films, right down to her hair, facial features and 
totally adroit Englishness. She was fourteen, just a 
few months older than Emma. Think of her and you're 
four-fifths of the way to seeing Ruth although in a 
classic beauty shoot-out, Emma would be coming in a 
distant second. 

Most years our family, of which I was an only child, 
would head-off to my Great Aunt's farm, set in the 
wilds of the Yorkshire Dales. Only twenty minutes or so 
from the tiny village of Hawarth where Emily Bronte and 
her sisters lived and where Heathcliff wanders still 
his beloved Wuthering Heights. 

The nineteenth century farmhouse where we stayed had 
neither sewerage or electricity but no-one in 2004 even 
working with the most technologically advanced kitchen 
equipment available, could cook anything to compare 
taste-wise with what was served-up in that tiny 
farmhouse beneath a flickering gas-light. I lived for 
the next steam-train trip that would take me north to 
my closeted and remote little spiritual home.

Immediately adjacent to the farmhouse was a good-size 
barn in which my Uncle would feed and milk the cattle, 
daily occupations as far removed from my own 
experiential domesticity as Hans Solo and the 
Millennium Falcon might be adjudged so far as the 
Wright Brothers are concerned. Nevertheless, I slipped 
into "farm life" without the least parental urging.

The summer holidays then, some five months subsequent 
to my thirteenth birthday, saw us enjoying another farm 
visitation up there on the picturesque moors. It was a 
Friday. I recall this clearly because mom had promised 
to take me to the local movie-house, a decrepit but 
intimate old relic in a nearby township, some twenty-
five minutes walk from the farm, alongside those old 
stone walls which separated field from field, property 
from property... and on those cold misty nights – 
legend from legend. That's what one did in those days – 
walk! Films were only run there Saturday nights and I 
recall it was the following day!

Some time around mid-afternoon that Friday, while 
chasing cows, sheep, chickens and poor old Dobbin - so 
ancient a sway-back, it was definitely a dead horse 
walking - around their own fields, I heard my dad call 
me from far-off. Scooting back up to the farmhouse, 
Mom, Dad and my Uncle were chatting to another family.

"Say, this is my son Noel," said dad. I shook hands 
with the man and nodded to his wife. Evidently they 
were staying for the week in the farm-house right 
across the way. The "way" being a road no more than 
twelve feet wide between the properties. I could have 
tossed a stone from my bedroom clear through their 
kitchen window... could probably have flicked it come 
to that. 

"And this is their daughter Ruth," Dad was continuing. 
I looked up at her and lost my power of speech. Nothing 
was working... my arms... voicebox... brain!

 "Well say hello to Ruth, Noel," said my mom, "She's 
just fourteen – a bit older than you. Maybe you'd like 
to play with her? Show her over the farm maybe?"

I managed some strangled sound like "Y-oh!" A resulting 
cross between "Yes (mom)" and "Hello." Ruth looked less 
than impressed but allowed me to direct her back the 
way I had just come.

 "You two be back for tea in an hour or so!" called out 
dad. If I had been seventeen, I wouldn't even have been 
back!

Now, I was hardly what you'd call a 'smooth operator' 
at thirteen. I had known from the first time my eyes 
fully focused shortly after birth that I liked girls! 
My best friend at junior high, she who I had sat beside 
since day-one in primary school was most definitely a 
girl and I'd had a thing for my younger cousin since 
she was eight. 

Sexually however, aside from a couple of show and tell 
sessions behind the lounge with my cousin when age-
wise, we were yet to hit double figures, and hot little 
Carmen who had charged me threepence to "have a feel" 
in fourth grade one afternoon, I had no reason to doubt 
the stork theory!

And yet, as I helped Ruth over that first stile (a 
wooden 'step' arrangement, built to enable one to cross 
those old stone walls, between fields) and the brief 
flash of her knickers as she climbed over... I knew 
instinctively that some up-till-now unutilised software 
was kicking-in. 

One thing I did have going for me – I could hold a 
conversation and with Ruth this was a ground-level 
entry requirement. Well read, intelligent, but equally 
(so I discovered) impulsive and adventurous, she was no 
wimpy arm decoration. 

"This is such fun," she called out to me, crossing her 
fourth stile. She wasn't far off the mark either. 

The extreme southern ends of the property were marked 
by the onset of the banks of the beautiful river Nidd. 
A timeless old waterway whose shallow but crystal-clear 
waters were stocked with enough trout to satisfy 
generations of retired Yorkshiremen. Linking my Great 
Aunt's farm with the neighboring property across the 
river was a sturdy but none too steady 'swing bridge.' 
Only able to carry one abreast, it was aptly named, as 
Ruth found out.

"Oh Gosh!" she uttered, as almost mid-center, the 
bridge's lateral motion caused her to slip backwards. 
She fell against me as I caught her. Just for a moment 
I held her there and she turned as if to say something, 
her face but inches from mine. Even in that instant, I 
knew she was everything to me... completely nonsensical 
as that sounds and especially with the benefit of but 
thirty minutes relational co-existence. 

Whatever awareness came to her at that second, she 
held-on to it, but from that moment on, existed an 
unspoken bond between us. Having wandered across a few 
neighboring fields, we returned to the farm property 
and I took the opportunity to demonstrate my prowess 
skimming stones downriver. 

"Let me try that," she said and promptly buried my best 
throw with a perfect flat trajectory that pulled in ten 
"bounces" before heading into some distant mud-flats. 
My highest had been eight! That was Ruth!

As feminine as they come, she knew all the tricks. The 
cutesy smile, hair tossed over her shoulders at 
strategic moments, eyes wide for effect, "helpless 
little girl" routine" (as if!) Fact is, the gulf, both 
physically and emotionally, between a thirteen-year old 
boy and a fourteen-year old girl is laughably distant.

Not that I was feeling out-matured or even out out of 
my depth as such. I was enjoying every moment of her 
company. We sat there on that lush green river bank and 
talked about just about everything. School to home-
life, pasts and futures, likes and dislikes. At one 
stage I was just so enraptured, I must have been 
staring at her. She stopped and asked, "What are you 
looking at?" 

I remember just saying simply, "You!"

She actually blushed and that made me feel self-
conscious. Right about then I heard my father calling-
out and I knew we were way past our allotted hour or 
so. Playfully, and I suppose in some ways with a 
child's enthusiasm, I grabbed her hand and pulled her 
to her feet as we took off across the fields. She 
didn't let go of me until we reached the front gate.

After tea we played multiple games of "Concentration." 
Just sitting on the floor with her, listening to her 
laugh when I forgot where the other 'eight' was... her 
hand brushing against mine as she leaned across to turn 
over the matching 'King,' her sharp little intake of 
breath and the way she would hold her hand to her chest 
when she made a pair. I see it all now as clearly as I 
did then. The absolute last thing I wanted to hear was 
mom saying,

"Noel, it's nine o'clock, Ruth has to go back over the 
road now." Dad walked her across, but not before I 
collected my shoes and went with them.

 "Are you doing anything in the morning?" she asked 
sweetly. 

If I had been due to collect the Nobel Peace prize, I 
would have cancelled it. I told her I wasn't and dad, 
looking at me knowingly, smiled and said.

 "Not really Ruth, would you like to come over and 
spend some time with Noel?...assuming its OK with your 
parents?" 

I really think I caught the faintest blush – I was 
having such trouble standing up I couldn't really be 
sure.

I went to sleep that night just staring out my window 
across the roadway.

You'll notice that aside from drawing a comparison with 
Emma Watson, I haven't made any real attempt to 
described Ruth in detail. I will paint for your benefit 
right now the picture of a young girl that dad ushered 
into our tiny kitchen the following morning, just as I 
was finishing my breakfast cereal. Remember though this 
is a recalled image from a child's memory not an 
adult's.

Poise... that's the word for it... I didn't know it 
then, but she had such poise. Her shoulder length light 
brown hair – it must surely have just been washed, had 
a natural wave through it and framed her beautiful 
little face to perfection. She had it pulled back at 
either side with small mica clasps and her mother had 
either donated or bought her a simple but pretty pair 
of earrings that glinted when she turned her head. Ruth 
had that "just scrubbed" look and she smelled of fresh 
flowers and youthful promise.

As it was quite a warm morning, she was wearing the 
simplest of little short-sleeved cream colored tops 
with just a couple of buttons at the neck. I remember 
now, the pretty white lace-edging around the sleeves. 
Obviously planning on some serious cross-field hiking 
she had on a pair of dark blue girl's pants and 
matching-color running shoes.

She must have had the most beautiful youthful figure 
(as I'm sure my dad would have noticed!) but I had as 
much knowledge, interest and experience in sexual 
matters then as I did in current affairs. What I did 
have an interest in, was getting out of that farmhouse 
with her at the first available second!

"No more than a couple of hours," said mom, as we 
hightailed it out through the main gate. "Three hours 
is close enough," I was thinking!

Both Middlesmoor and Nidderdale are sight-seeing 
valleys within commutable distance of the farm and both 
offer magnificent wind-swept views of the moors. We lit 
out for Middlesmoor, being slightly nearer. Some of the 
more elevated stiles I spent double the time necessary 
helping Ruth over – I'm sure she noticed! I think she 
even took her time climbing them. 

It was the most balmy of English summer mornings, non-
penetrative heat and the occasional light breeze being 
the order of the day. Successfully negotiating our two 
hundredth field so it seemed, the heights of 
Middlesmoor stretched before us...acres of swaying 
heather leading the way and lending to the casual 
traveller a gentle if not rather exhilarating scent. 
Ruth and I hadn't shared much in the way of 
conversation mainly on account of the fact this was all 
so new to her and she was completely taken up with the 
experience. I of course had walked this way so many 
times with mom.

"It's just so beautiful up here isn't it?" she said to 
me, sitting on a huge rock that had been there long 
before Moses came down off Mount Ararat. The wind at 
that moment was blowing her hair across her face and 
she looked like an angel... one that Michaelangelo 
would have liked to sculpt. I sat beside her and 
without any thought for the consequences, turned my 
head to her and just kissed her.

It was only the briefest of contact – and I was so 
shocked at my own forward behavior I had no idea what 
to say as a follow-up. I think I stood up and muttered 
"sorry" or something equally inane. Half expecting a 
slap across the face, I was primed for anything except 
what happened. She just whispered "Come here," and 
pulling me back down beside her, returning the most 
wonderful kiss flush on my sadly inexperienced lips.

In hindsight, over the years I have experienced several 
electrical discharges... light sockets, frayed wires – 
even taken a full charge direct off the spark plugs of 
a V8 Falcon. That one put me on by back for the count. 
But the sensation that arced through me that second as 
she kissed me, ran out first place let me tell you! 

It was, as far as lip to lip duration goes, brief - not 
much longer than mine but if I had gotten up from that 
rock I would have been unable to balance properly.

"You are sooo sweet," she said, hands folded neatly in 
her lap now. 

"You don't have to apologise for kissing me," she added 
giggling.

"Can I do it again then?" I asked hopefully.

"Later maybe," she replied, teasing me unmercifully.

"C'mon," she said, "lets walk the rest of the way." She 
took my hand...I felt such a child!

As we walked, I was aware of a nagging irritation. It 
bothered me to such an extent I half whispered to her 
as we negotiated another stone wall,

"Ruth, have you kissed any other boys?" I desperately 
wanted to hear her denial.

She stopped, turned and still holding my hand said,

"Oh, that is such a funny question," but seeing as I 
wasn't laughing, she added, "Well actually... no I 
haven't – never met a boy I ever wanted to kiss me... 
you're the first – honestly!" I knew it was the truth.

"So you wanted me to kiss you?" I teased.

"I didn't say that," she retorted, slipping 
effortlessly into a demure, "I'm much more grown-up 
than you" mode...which she was!
 
"You did kinda..." I replied, trying to get full 
mileage out of my deductive brilliance. She just 
flashed me a pretty smile and the subject I knew, was 
at an end.

No sooner did we make the summit of Middlesmoor than it 
was time to head back and even then the three-hour time 
allotment was looking iffy. We saw so much... the old 
Roman ruins atop Scanlon's Ridge, the tiny bus-stop in 
Summerbridge called "New York," the caverns where a 
family of black panthers were said to have made a home 
for themselves. 

None of them though came close to watching Ruth. 
Crouching down smelling the heather, brushing her 
beautiful hair out of eyes after the wind had taken 
liberties with it, hugging herself as she sat down 
occasionally to take in the view. 

As the old farm came into distant focus, I felt the 
magic unravelling - my most acute pleasure up for 
imminent termination. I held her hand ever tighter, I 
never wanted to let her go.

Riding out the inevitable "Didn't I tell you just two 
hours Noel?" cross examination, after we had winged-it 
across the last couple of fields to the gate, mom 
relented and in just one sentence, restored my faith in 
miracles. Turning to Ruth she said,

"Would you like to come to the cinema tonight with us?" 

Ruth looked as happy as my heartbeat was suddenly 
irregular.

"I spoke to your mom and dad," she was continuing, 
"They said its fine with them if you'd like to come."

As it happened, they were screening Disney's Peter Pan 
(that night. It may as well have been "A Political 
Discourse On the Causes of the Indo-China war," for all 
the attention I was paying the screen. I took every 
opportunity to glance at her sweet little profile, 
hoping she wouldn't see. 

Occasionally she turned and caught me looking at her 
but just smiled at me. She let me hold her hand right 
through the session and more than once I saw Dad glance 
downwards. If it were possible to see a replay of it 
all now, I think you would sense his unspoken 
encouragement. 

"Hold-on tight son, angels like her don't drop-by all 
that often."

Last thing that evening she permitted me a further 
goodnight kiss. I was still slumped against the window-
sill when I woke up the next morning.

I think by now, Ruth's parents were resigned to the 
fact they wouldn't be seeing too much of their daughter 
until they got home. Had it been my choice, they'd have 
to have been content with the odd postcard!

It was the next day that my up-till-then sublimely 
uncomplicated life was to be hijacked, re-formatted and 
dragged screaming into pleasurably near adulthood.

The weather had done a complete three-sixty, as the 
Brit climate is well known to do... especially during 
the summer vacation. Caught mid-field by a drenching 
little shower, Ruth and I scurried like drowned rats to 
the safety of the barn. Mom, dad and Ruth's parents had 
gone to Harrogate City together for the day – some 
twenty miles or so distant. Since I couldn't interest 
her in a handful of oats, we shinned up the ladder to 
the hay loft.

As luck would have it, Ruth had slipped on a new summer 
dress that morning, a simple yellowish cotton affair 
with a neat little black belt – I remember that well 
for reasons that will become obvious. The whole dress 
was pretty wet and she was sitting on a hay bale 
holding it out before her and lamenting its rapid 
absorption rate. 

Her hair even was quite damp and curling up around the 
edges. I was in no drier a state. We decided to wait it 
out and to dry off a bit. Following the last few days 
quite hot weather, it was very warm up in that loft and 
we figured our clothes would soon dry.

What is it with hay? Maybe it just looks inviting to 
toss people in...especially girls! Whatever, we were 
ragging about, acting like a couple of dumbo schoolkids 
and while I was teasing her and holding her wrists, she 
slipped out of my grip and fell on her back in the hay. 
I saw my chance to overpower her and kneeling there, 
pinioned her arms above her head. She may have been 
more mature...and definitely way prettier, but I was 
stronger!

At what stage exactly something tapped me on the 
shoulder and said "Time to grow up kid," I couldn't 
say, but something in her expression pressed buttons 
somewhere and as I moved my face close to hers I saw 
the 'welcome sign' flash on. This kiss was way less 
juvenile... longer too. 

That isn't to say I had the least idea what I was 
either doing or starting. What I do remember, she 
didn't pull away, she simply jerked her hands free and 
placed them round my neck. For the first time I think I 
became aware of her femininity and the effect her 
closeness was having on me.

Lying there as she was, her dress had risen well up her 
legs and way past her knees and obviously something 
blueprinted in the male psyche kicked in. More in an 
exploratory sense than with any sexual intent – God, I 
didn't even know what "sexual" meant - I remember just 
tentatively putting my hand on her thigh and being 
entranced by its smoothness and heat. Ruth still had 
her arms around my neck as we continued kissing like 
laughably outright amateurs I imagine. Oh, but how 
wonderful was it? 

Perhaps that was as far as it would have gone – I 
certainly had no game-plan – but she took my hand and 
pulled it up until it was resting right across the 
front of her panties. She held it there. I remember her 
just looking up at me with that needful little-girl 
expression and smiling gently. I don't know how I 
avoided becoming catatonic. All I could feel was...heat 
and softness.

I couldn't speak, I was as embarrassed as all hell but 
there was no way I was about to shift my hand. I 
remember pressing in a little – it must have pretty 
much separated her labia – not that I would have known 
what they were from a Hershey Bar. Ruth let out a small 
gasp but continued to kiss me. I got bolder and may 
even have rubbed her there a little. 

On total auto-pilot now, I tentatively pulled her dress 
up and marvelled at all those smooth mounds and curves 
before me. Never having seen a girl up close and 
personal like this before, I definitely wanted to see 
more. I recall her softest of little gasps as I slipped 
a hand inside those cotton briefs. I was on death 
row... but didn't care. As my hand slid down, I saw her 
expression changed to one of urgency. Too bad I had no 
idea what I was doing or how to proceed. 

More by luck than judgment I imagine, I found the real 
heat-source...and I didn't need any further prompting. 
That was Ruth's cue to wriggle and mine to just about 
pass out. One thing I'd figured out already. First day 
back at school I was going to front-up to Carmen and 
get my threepence back. She'd taken my money under 
false pretences. Sure, she was only nine at the time 
but still, threepence is threepence.

How long I squatted there I have no idea... I seem to 
remember Ruth getting quite animated. I was deliriously 
happy in my sexually complicit vacuum having no clue as 
to what power I wielded in those thirteen year old 
hands.

Whether out of desperation or determination to teach me 
the whole enchilada I don't know, but she actually 
slipped her own panties off - I could have been struck 
dumb. I certainly suffered some sort of temporary 
paralysis. What I was looking at was way outside my 
comfort zone, and yet, the most beautiful thing I had 
ever seen. I couldn't take my eyes off that downy light 
brown hair framing her holy grail and how embarrassing 
– mine had barely started to grow. It wasn't only her 
hair I was looking at though, it was her beautiful 
feminine construction.

I think I muttered something excruciatingly retarded 
like "You are so pretty Ruth" but in all honesty I had 
no idea what was expected of me. Maybe for a change of 
stimulus or perhaps she really did want to kill me, but 
as I sat there performing like a mechanical sex-toy, 
she took my other hand and pulled it to her breast. 

Funny how most young boys always gravitate towards that 
area... to be honest I can't even recall looking at her 
breasts up until that point. I remember feeling her bra 
and wondering how she got it on... it was only a flimsy 
little affair and her breasts were pretty small too. 
But dear God, what a fantastic new sensation. Having a 
hand down her top. I prayed for more rain!

Again the fear of following in another's footsteps (or 
handprints) made me ask her if she had ever done 
anything like this before. Her shocked reaction, quite 
close to tears actually, convinced me of this 
improbability. I held her to me then and with my 
childlike inexperience I told her I loved her. She 
asked me if I would like to completely undress her.

I just didn't know what to say and must have looked 
such a tongue-tied dickwad. In the absence of any 
positive action on my part, she undid that little belt 
and all the buttons of her dress from hem to bra. I 
simply watched entranced as she let the dress slide off 
her and having unhooked her bra, she lay there 
completely naked. I couldn't take my eyes off her, 
dumber still, I don't even recall if her nipples were 
erect. 

Mind you, I wouldn't have known an erect nipple from a 
plate of jellied eels. She reached up and pulled me to 
her until my face was at nipple level. I kissed her 
there and can recall with vivid clarity what they felt, 
and tasted like. I remember too her asking plaintively, 
"Just suck them gently."

It seemed to me she rather liked being naked in my 
presence...nothing she said or did you 
understand...just a feeling I had. Girls are so much 
less inhibited than boys. Anyway, inevitably she asked 
me if I would like to undress. I think I almost 
screamed out "Mummy!"

"C'mon," she said, "Don't be shy, I'm naked... take 
your clothes off too. Besides, they'll dry quicker." 
Actually, she had a point there – almost had me 
convinced! I was just sitting there unmoving.

"OK," she said, making as if to put her clothes back 
on. What brilliant psychology is inherent in the female 
make-up!

"Oh, Alright then," I muttered and standing there, 
undid my shirt buttons as slow as I knew how. It went 
OK until my underpants. No-one had seen inside them, 
let alone a naked fourteen year old girl just four feet 
away.

"I can't," I said abruptly.

"Why not?" she asked. "You don't mind looking at me do 
you?"

"You'll laugh at me," I said evincing my inner fears. 
"Have you ever seen a boy naked?" I asked, hoping 
against hope that she hadn't.

"No," she said, "But you're sooo cute... I'd really 
like to."

So refreshingly honest were her words, I felt suddenly 
at ease with her, and just slipped my pants off. I 
knelt there as naked as the day I was born and 
trembling in her presence.

True to her word, she didn't laugh. She just looked at 
me rather entreatingly.

"May I touch you?" she asked. 

I had a very small penis – least it seemed so to me... 
and probably the direct result of secondary shock but 
I'm sure I had no erection. I had led a very sheltered 
existence and without exposure to the seamier side of 
life had less than no experience in this area. 
Masturbation was completely unknown to me.

I looked down as her hand caressed me, wanting to 
apologise for just the few sparse hairs in attendance. 
She looked at me in such a loving and tender way I had 
to kiss her again. I felt her love... better still, I 
felt something else. What the hell was it? my penis had 
a life of its own suddenly. I blushed stupid and she 
saw me.

"It's OK," she said "Don't worry... does that feel 
nice?"

"Feel nice?" was she kidding? It felt awesomely 
pleasant.

 "Boys are supposed to like this," she 
said...continuing to do what I was "supposed" to like. 
Shame I could no longer speak!

Still tiny compared to an adult erection, I must have 
been double my normal size as she continued to ply her 
trade digitally. I had a sudden urge to touch her 
intimately and in fact manouvered my body so that I was 
able to do just that.

As this totally alien but wholly encompassing feeling 
rose somewhere deep inside me I noticed my own 
exertions were having a significantly profound effect 
on Ruth's general demeanor. 

Her hips I noticed were thrusting up towards my fingers 
and she was closing her eyes and making all sorts of 
cute little noises. Not a minute later, she let out a 
deep sigh and she held my hand hard against her lower 
extremities. I'm sure I felt her shake quite a bit. 

Leaning forward, she kissed me again and recommenced 
rubbing me with earnest. The feeling I had earlier 
returned twofold. I began to breath with difficulty and 
I found myself focused on the area she was 
manipulating. 

Without my doing anything, I felt my body tense and 
something I could neither describe or understand 
gripped me. Both embarrassed and awestruck, I watched 
incredulously as this jet of white creamy stuff ejected 
all over Ruth's tummy. 

She was so pleased with herself and simply enquired,

"Was that nice?" I honestly couldn't speak and just 
covered my embarrassment the best way I could.

After that, we lay side by side for what seemed like a 
couple of hours. Just snuggled up in the hay together 
discovering what no Biology textbook seems to 
exhaustively cover.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway saw action 
of a different sort. So mortified was I, I started 
putting her dress on. We were buttoned-up though and 
down that ladder before they had the motor off.

We had three more wonderful days together and didn't 
miss a solitary opportunity. It was during that time 
also that I learned the wonders of a self-help program 
and how to handle my own affairs if you get my drift! I 
figure Ruth already knew.

The day that Ruth had to leave and her family lived 
some two hundred miles from Kent, remains the most 
emotionally desolate moment of my life. Even with the 
promise that she would come and stay a week with us at 
our home at the end of term, was small consolation. 

Barely able to hold myself in check as they sped off 
down the roadway that afternoon, I watched gutted, as 
my beautiful Ruth waved to me from that small back 
window. Once out of sight and completely blinded by 
tears, I climbed that ladder back up to the hay loft 
and sat there in wretched misery replaying all that we 
had done together, all that she had taught me and 
wishing hopelessly that she would come back to me. 

Now however I realise she never really left me. I see 
her in my own daughters' eyes occasionally, especially 
when they are being cheeky and manipulative. She is for 
ever fourteen as I am eternally just a few months 
younger than her.

But I know if I ever go back to that desolate and 
romantic moor, she will be sitting on that rock waiting 
for me - even now. The wind will be blowing her lovely 
hair across her face and she will look up and smile as 
I approach. She will let me hold her hand and then take 
me where I want to go. 

I am still such a child.

END

© 2005 Peter_Pan http://www.lulu.com/content/74426

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
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Kristen's collection - Directory 39