We lived in a rural community. My father was the President of the local Utility. I was fourteen that year and i was given permission to go to the senior prom with this boy, a friend of the family. When he picked me up my father took him into his office and showed him a pair of clippers that the boys on the farms used to castrate the animals, and a pair of balls in a jar. That was what was going to happen to him if he 'touched' me.
My mother told me to be a good girl and make sure to pay attention to him. We left in his father's car, and I sat beside him in the middle. We had to drive along the lake shore for a while before getting to the country club. He had his arm around me, and I put my hand on his lap and he wanted me to squeeze him tight. All of a sudden the hood blew up and covered the windshield. He had to look out the side window and brought the car to a stop against a tree on the side of the road.
Our bad luck, but nobody went by, we sat there for a long time, over an hour until a man in a pickup came by and took us to the country club so that we could get help with the car. His father was angry, my father called him a fool, and my mother was just happy nothing had happened to me. The prom was a bust of course and I rode home with my parents. The next morning I went into the den and saw the clippers and the balls in a bottle. That's when I heard from my mother what my father had told him. She whispered in my ear that he really wouldn't do that, the worse that could happen if he 'touched' me was that he had to get married. I looked at my mother, seriously, he put his arm around me, he touched me. My mother corrected me, if he had sex with me. So if I liked him keep my knees together.
We had sex on the dock. I was fifteen and the moon was big and the sky was dark. It hurt on my back on the hard planks of wood and he hurt his knee when he had sex with me. But he got it in and made it all work and I was a fifteen year old pregnant bride no so many months afterwards. My father didn't cut his balls off, my father cleaned his rifle in front of him. I lived with my parents and had the baby there and my mother took care of the baby while I went to school. If he wanted to see me he had to get permission, he could only come over after school between four and six, and only twice a week. And no touching, of any kind. He had already done enough damage.
It wasn't until I was nineteen that I was 'allowed' to see him alone. To have sex with him again. Nineteen. I was so ready to have sex that I got pregnant again. Only now it was permissible. Unwise, but permissible. We had sex like rabbits. Everyway you can imagine. Every hole was open season. The Kama Sutra didn't have anything on us. I was flexible, and he was hungry. He took out the four years of abstinence and fucked me coming and going. If I wore shorts that was an excuse, if I wore a dress that was an excuse. I had to hold onto the kitchen sink, and was caught between the sofa and coffee table. Why wear panties? All he was going to do was rip them off. My father wasn't amused, my mother laughed at it.
When our daughter turned fourteen my father gave my husband those clippers for castrating sheep and pigs and the bottle with the nuts of a ram in them. To have the talk with that boy who came around to take her out. Fathers can say anything, mothers know better.
