Crime is in the eye of the beholder.

I loved the way my babysitter used to dress. She often wore tight, faded blue jeans and a leather vest with tassels over a cleavage exposing lowly clasped blouse. On this particular day she was wearing this outfit. She always smelled good. Freshly scrubbed and her hair perfumed from a recent washing. She had little dark granny glasses that she wore at the end of her nose. Maybe this look was a bit passe in 1975 but She looked very hip to me.

          I loved to draw pictures and she would indulge me and tell me how good my work was. I used to urge her to make up stories about the stuff i'd drawn and she did her best. Most of the time I would draw pictures or watch TV while she read a book. On this day she was reading the "The Great Gatsby".

    I got up from my drawing and walked behind the rocking chair she was sitting in. I reached out my hand and started stroking her long brown hair. I told her how nice and long it was. Then I started to tell her if it was longer how it would stretch all the way down her body and I demonstrated by rubbing past her neck down to her shoulders. I slowly brought my hand to the top of her blouse and palmed the edge of her bosom. Clearly in my mind her hair could get much longer because I rubbed my hand right onto her right breast. Her not wearing a bra made it easy for my 8 year old finger tips to find her nipple which was swollen and pulsating. Ever curious and far from sated I proceeded to move my hand outside her blouse and found the botton of her jeans. I unsnapped her Levi's. At that moment she came out of the spell she had fallen under and asked me what I thought I was doing. I just stood there. I said nothing. I was very dissapointed. I wanted very much to keep growing her hair.

    For a moment or 2 I had adult cooperation for a sensual endeavor. I suppose if I had been content to linger on her breast I could have prolonged the experience. I don't think she was asleep. I think she was going along with the program for some reason. Perhaps a momentary lapse of reason? Whatever it was that allowed her to be fondeled in such a way I don't know. I was a very sexual little boy. That may have been the begining of my quest for sexual fulfillment. And like allincidents of a sexual nature in my lifetime, it too is full of mystery and unanswered questions.