I know this is unbelievable, and it sounds arrogant. Which is why I never even thought about bragging to my friends.
I’m a single father, and this happened a couple years ago, when my eldest was about 10. I woke up Sunday morning, and went to take a piss a one normally does. I slept in, because it was a weekend, we didn’t have a church, and I was still half awake when I heard a knock at my window.
I guess, honestly I can’t be sure if she knocked once to get my attention, or just bumped the sill, but when I looked over, I saw an eye sink down, to just peer under her bangs, between the curtains.
I looked down, still wearing my boxers, and went to look out, but she didn’t run, and when I opened the window, she looked up, so I could see more of her face. At least both eyes, and the bridge of the nose, but I asked “What are you doing out there?”
Confused at the surreal situation. Normally had I been a woman in her underwear, or she’d been a boy, I would probably not even need to ask. She looked down, and laughed a little, but it was quiet, and shy. She asked me if I was “Gonna beat off this morning?”
All right, skip 1 step between waking up, and going to the bathroom, “Excuse me? Have you been watching me through my window?”
She nodded, slowly, but looked up, expectantly, at the front of my shorts. Biting her lip, I don’t remember if she leaned back, or stepped back, but I was starting to feel a little familiar pressure just from the attention.
“Nghm!” She looked up at my face, “Who was that woman last night?” Probably as good a reason as any that I didn’t have to tap my balls that morning, having been satisfied last night.
“Huh,” I felt my groin, I guess to distract her, but considered what I was going to do. “How old are you?”
“It looks like you’re getting pretty serious.”
“Huh, look.” She looked up, and I stopped rubbing my cock, through the front of my pants. “Uh, I don’t know, are you actually jealous?” I didn’t know what to say, but she shook her head, and smiled. “How old are you?”
“I know I’m not that old.”
“No, seriously. How old are you?”
“Thirteen?” She lied, but if she was one of my daughter’s friends, I didn’t recognize her. I guess I could have been about that age, when I started paying attention to women, older women, and I know this sounds conceited, but I’m a good looking guy.
I just didn’t think I was That good looking. Enough for one of my daughter’s friends to hang around the yard, watch me have sex, and then wait in the morning for me to wake up. Watching me sleep, all night…
“Are you, one of Danielle’s friends?”
“Huh, not really. She’s in what, 4th grade?”
“Just started fifth.”
“Yeah, and even before I started middle school, we never really hung out, but. Ngh!” She did that little grunt, again. “I guess every girl thinks her dad’s the best looking man in the world, I used to think mine was until I saw you.”
“So, what. You want to watch me jerk off, is that it?” I pulled out the front of my boxers, and told myself this is just a dream, a sick dream, and I don’t know where I made up this freaky creepy sick little girl from, but it wasn’t.
A dream, she wasn’t some figment of my imagination to stroke my ego, and I’m not a pedophile. I know, that’s just the kind of thing a child molester would say, and almost feel like a child molester for doing this, but I gave her what she wanted.
She didn’t just come onto me, she stalked me, watched me having sex, and even sleeping, then she wanted me to beat off, right in front of her? I don’t know if I thought that, satisfying that simple request would make her go away, but it would be insane to think that if I did.
I mean honestly, who’s fantasy is this? I’m not an expert on stalkers, hell if I was, I’d probably know that girls were capable as young as, what. 11, 12? She said middle school, and I guess I believed that part, at least. “Huh, I’m sorry, but it’s a little chilly.” I tried pulling it hard, “And you’re not a little cold out there?”
“No, I’m hot. Hot for you, you make me hot just looking at you, and it doesn’t even matter if it’s not hard.”
“Huh, well if you want to watch me. Jerk off?” That’s what she said, so she nodded. “Huh, well you might as well give me something to look at, it might help.”
She let her pantie waist snap, and her dress fall down stepping back, but now that I could see more of her. I could tell that it was some sort of Sunday Dress. “Like this?” She started twisting, and sticking her hips out, either side. Rubbing her knees together in white tights I saw later, but also awkwardly pulling up the back of her dress by the shoulder.
“Uh!” Eyes locked on my bloated chubby, she looked up, and smiled, but I rubbed the head.
Pinched between my thumb, and a finger. Tried to remember my date last night, the woman was older of course. At least a little closer to my age, fully developed, but when she pulled the dress off, her blouse hung down, over the tops of her tights.
She turned around, and held up the back of the shirt flap to show me her ass, the lines of panties printed through the seat of the tights, and started wiggling out of them. The whale tale disappeared under the shirt flap, as she bent over to slide the tights down her legs, and kicked off her shiny black shoes.
I just assumed that she went to the neighborhood church, right across the street behind me, and looked up. Now, I’m not a religious man, but I noticed the top row of windows, looking down over the roof behind me. Not to mention the cross on top of the roof, but if they had Sunday school classes, she might have been in one of the top floor classrooms. Where she could look out at my window, and probably not see a whole lot from that far away, unless she had binoculars, or something.
I had to laugh a little, at the thought of her teacher telling her to put away the bird watching glasses, and pay attention. Maybe she made excuses about seeing a bald eagle, or a titmouse, before she put them away, but I was really fantasizing about her right now, and somehow while her back was turned, she got her blouse unbuttoned enough to pull that off, too.
“Huh,” at least she had a bra strap, and maybe I misjudged her age. Partly because she had that Christian haircut, and her parents no doubt made her dress that modestly. Act innocent, but she wasn’t innocent. She was guilty, of trespassing, stalking, invading my privacy, and I just stopped trying to remember what she might have seen last night, after my date.
Pretty hot date, I’m sober ever since the divorce. My drinking was involved, but my wife leaving was a wake-up call, and without the beer goggles on, I could see myself in the mirror. I’d let myself go, and started jogging again. Calisthenics half remembered from my ROTC training. Physical training to meet the specs for the Army, then I didn’t enlist, nor earn a commission, so my life took a different path.
A civilian, but I got a pull-up bar, and also stopped by the playground to do dips. Hanging crunches with my legs locked in the monkey bars, and I swear that I didn’t do it to attract the attention of young girls. I didn’t want this attention, but of course the church shared their playground with the whole neighborhood, to lure kids in, and give their kids a chance to talk to my kids about Jesus.
“Huh, you like them?” She got her bra unhooked, and held the cups up to shrug, and shake out of the shoulder straps. Alluringly, and for the first time, I wondered who she practiced this strip tease on? Maybe she just got it so right in the mirror, I don’t know, but that reminded me to flex. Let go of my raging boner, and run my hands up my abs.
“Huh, yeah. That does the trick all right.” Ran my fingers along the shelf of my pecs, and even touched my nipples, to rub them hard. She grinned, then smiled a little more seriously. Letting the cups down, and the straps slip off her arms, she dropped the bra, and felt up her young body in nothing but her panties.
“Huh, yeah. You’re so hot, uh. You’re making me hot, and wet. Jerk it, jerk it off for me.” But after tracing the curves under her breast. She brushed her fingers over her nipples, so they caught, and slipped to the next one, and then next until she could pinch them, and pull them out.
I’m gonna guess A cups, unless they have a smaller size, but just heavy enough to hang round on the bottom, stretch out into cones on the top, until she pulled them out to cones by the nipples, and let go so they snapped back. Bounced, and I slowed down, just to make it last a little longer.
“Huh, you close?” She stepped out of her tights, and came closer. “You about to cum?”
“Yeah,” I picked up the pace, “Where do you want it, uh. Huh!”
“In my face, of course, and my tits. Uh?”
She closed her eyes, but then she smiled, and stuck her chin up. Biting back a smile, and I managed to keep my eyes cracked. Aim the next shot on her neck, which looked red hot. She was just about the right height, standing down there in the yard, with me up on the window sill. I had to spread my knees, to brace them around the window so I didn’t fall out, but then I held my face up on the cold glass, and my hips up under the open window. I couldn’t see what I was doing at that point, so I let my eyes squeeze shut, and just felt the last few dribbles run off my knuckles.
“Huh!” I let go, and stood up. “Huh!” The realization hit me, when I saw her lick her lips, and wipe her cheek to suck some off her fingers. I backed up to the bed, and sat down, but it was too late.
“Huh, that was amazing, thanks.” I just shook my head, and went to close the window. Pull the curtains, and make sure there wasn’t a gap while she was picking up her clothes, and starting to put them back on.
Then, the fear set in. Not for me, she didn’t even ask to come in, nor touch me, now that I think about it. She just wanted to watch me, but she had the evidence all over her, like egg on her face. She could have called the cops, if she wanted me in jail, and even if she came in. She probably couldn’t hurt me in my sleep unless she got a kitchen knife somehow, or brought one with her from her house.
That wasn’t what I was afraid of, but would she try to cut it off, when she liked it so much? A pair of kitchen shears with a notch in one blade to hold a turkey neck. My imagination ran wild, but obviously, she couldn’t just keep it in a jar or something. So it didn’t rot, but I remember her saying that she didn’t care whether it was hard or not.
She’s insane, psycho, probably nympho too, but I’m no psychologist. Child psychologist, nor criminal psychologist. The problem is I have children to worry about. Like Danielle, who could be taken in by an older girl, no matter what I told her about talking to strangers. What could she do to her, to get back at me out of some misguided jealousy over our relationship?
Just a father/daughter relationship. Yeah, I hugged and kissed her, but not any more than a father should. To show his daughter that he loves her, and maybe a little more since her mother left, so she doesn’t feel emotionally neglected, but still.
“Fuck?” I have sons! Both of them are younger, but I guess you just naturally think about your daughter first. Then, I realized that she stalked me, a man, and my oldest, Jr. He’s been tagging along with me on my regular jogs, including the calisthenics at the church playground. Working out, and trying to build muscles, but at 7, he didn’t have much to work with.
I didn’t know if he was old enough to even be interested in a girl, an older girl. A Christian, but not a very good one, if I’m anyone to judge. She doesn’t look psycho, but I guess she got plenty of practice on that innocent act with her family. My youngest is only 4, and just started Pre-K, but I had to talk to their therapist.
Well, our “Family councilor,” and swore him to secrecy, because obviously what I’d done was illegal, in spite of how she invited it. Of course, he believed me, which was surprising, considering how hard it was to avoid cliches, but my daughter backed me up.
It was at least a week later, because I tried to forget about it, but then Sunday rolled around, and it was impossible not to get that nightmarish fear again that she’d be back. I locked all the windows, and doors. Made sure that the curtains were drawn, and turned out the lights before I got undressed, and went to bed, but I didn’t sleep very well. What little I got was full of nightmares, coming home to find my boys dead, with their throats slashed, their junk cut off with a kitchen knife, and put in jars for safe keeping.
Then, I drove them to school, but after the boys got out, Danielle stayed behind in the back seat, and asked, “Dad? Who was that girl in the back yard?”
“You saw a girl in the back yard?”
“Yeah, a week ago.”
“I didn’t know, I didn’t see her, but what was she doing?”
“Putting her clothes on.”
“She was naked?”
“Almost, but why would a girl run around our yard in her underwear, and bra?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know why girls do a lot of things, but I’ve never seen one do anything like that.”
“Me neither.”
“Maybe she was some kind of streaker.”
“Or maybe she spent the night with her boyfriend, but she had to sneak out in the morning, before his mom, and dad caught her, and she didn’t get a chance to put all her clothes on, before she left.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. You said she had a bra on, was it a training bra?”
“No, she was a teenager, so she had a real bra, and breasts.”
“Huh, I don’t know honey, but maybe we can ask doctor Bill. The next time we see him.”
“Can you call him, and make an appointment early?” The bell rang, so she got out, and closed the door to run off to class.
“Huh,” I thought about it, before. I thought she must be psycho, and maybe even violent, because I scorned her? I don’t know, if that’s actually the proper word, but I heard that. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” but I have no idea what chapter of the bible to look that up in.
I practically promised her. Danielle, sure I just said “Okay, honey. Now you better get to class, before you’re late.” She was expecting me to make that appointment, so when I got home, I called his office, and set one up with his secretary.
Not knowing whether he was even qualified, but hoping he at least had the number of a Criminal Psychologist, if not a Profiler to tell me how much of a threat she might be. Yeah, he had some degree or another in Child psychology, but he specialized in children of divorce. Broken homes, and stuff like that, but what kind of family raises a little monster like that, besides a Christian one?
I went over it again, and again in my head. Trying to come up with plausible theories based on what little I know. She’s Christian, so it’s possible that she was sexually abused by a priest, or a youth minister. Maybe she just witnessed a homosexual act between the priest, and a young boy, I don’t know. I put a lock on the gate, to at least make it harder for her to break into our yard. Since Danielle told me that she went out that way, or she saw her in the side yard, so I just assumed that.
She grabbed her clothes, and put on her underwear, but she must’ve carried them down the side-yard to put them on bye the gate. I thought about getting bars for the windows, since the house is all 1 story. So, even if she broke a window, and unlocked the latch, she couldn’t get in.
Then, I called some realtors, and started looking for other places to live, but I just got the house appraised. I didn’t put it up for sale until I had a new place lined up, but I got started on that. I didn’t feel safe, and let me tell you that living in fear, of a young girl like that is a nightmare, of guilt, and worrying about my children.
Then, before the appointment with Doctor Bailey came around, I got a letter of sorts. She just put it in our mailbox, without anything written on the envelope, but then I opened it to find a single sheet of copy paper, a smudge of lipstick on the inside, and the words [CU L8R] written in red pen.
“Huh, it was a photograph, or a copy of one, and I had to get a magnifier to look close enough to see the pixels. Square digital ones, in color, but I couldn’t tell whether it was a film photograph scanned into a computer, or a digital one copied on a printer. Either way, I couldn’t show it to anyone, because even though you couldn’t see much, it was more than enough.
I had my shorts down, and my hand in front of my crotch, but you could see my pubic hairs, or at least the dark patch in front of my hand. Also, she was in it, but you couldn’t make out anything but the back of her hair, the Sunday dress, and the sexy pose from behind. Holding up the front of her skirt, so even if I was in the habit of pissing out the window, when I’ve got a master bath, I couldn’t use that as an excuse.
Not when it looked so much like we’re playing I’ll show you mine, if you show me your’s. With a young girl, in a school uniform, which I recognized from around the neighborhood, once I was paying attention. It wasn’t just Sunday School, they had a small private school, it couldn’t have been more than a couple hundred students, but it was hard to look at them. The girls wandering around after school in the same dress, especially if they wore white tights, and shiny black shoes with it, but the hair cut didn’t really help.
Brown hair, brushed out in waves, with bangs, and while they didn’t all look like that, it was more than popular enough that I got false alarms. A quick thrill of fear when I caught one out of the corner of my eyes, especially with brown hair swinging behind her, but I never saw her again.
I showed the doctor the picture, after sending the kids out to wait in the lobby, of course. I didn’t know what to do, but he said that they might be “Erotomanic, or possibly Power-Reassurance.” Whatever that means, I looked them up, but it was just so technical. I didn’t know the vocabulary, and I felt like a plumber trying to figure out brain surgery with a pipe wrench.
Oh yeah, and “They.” Plural, for some reason I just completely missed the obvious, but she didn’t take that picture. From one of the windows, or possibly the roof of the Sunday school herself. Even if she was clever enough to set up a camera with a timer, how could she know the exact moment to trigger the shutter, or whatever the equivalent term is for a digital camera? To catch me in the act, so she must have conspired with at least one other person.
Possibly a classmate, or a teacher might have access to a computer with a scanner, and a printer. It wasn’t child porn, technically. I guess, holding her skirt up like that was at least suggestive, but from that far up, you couldn’t even tell how old she was. Hell, she could have been 18, petite, and wearing her old school uniform to play naughty schoolgirl with the neighborhood perv, but it still made me look like the neighborhood perv.
With a view from my house of the Sunday school, so I could flash them from my window if I wanted. A habit of jogging around the block, and working out on their own playground. A whole bunch of true excuses, that sound exactly like the lies that a man would tell. If he liked exposing himself to young girls, and Christian ones to make sure they were virgins. “Innocent,” yeah right.
Now, turn it around, and let’s see what she could say, if I tried to report her. “He came onto me.” Literally, “He invited me into his yard, and he waved his dick out the window, then he told me to strip for him, and jacked off right in front of me, watching.”
[Go to Jail. Go directly to Jail.
Do not pass Go, do not collect
$200.00.]
My daughter talked about it with me, after the boys were in their room, playing. I asked her what Doctor Bill said, but it was basically dumbed down even more for her. Which actually helped me even more. “A psychopath, or sociopath,” don’t ask me the difference, “She’s lovesick, and lonely. Probably repressed, and sheltered. So, she doesn’t have any romantic outlets, like access to boys her age, and it’s not your” Father’s “Fault.”
He told her it wasn’t her father’s fault, so she could tell me it wasn’t my fault. For running around the neighborhood, and working out at the school play ground, in pretty skimpy clothes. Poly blend shorts, and an old teeshirt that was almost ready for the rag bag, but the sleeves ripped off, pretty low down the sides, and also wiping the sweat off my face.
Which revealed my abs, but unintentionally. I wasn’t like flashing my abs, and inviting Christian school girls, or boys for that matter to check out my hot bod. I was just getting into shape, but let me tell you that this experience really taught me to appreciate what women, and girls go through.
Yeah, maybe I couldn’t empathize until I could sympathize, because we don’t teach boys how to share our feelings, let alone consider girl’s, when they’re held up to be these beautiful, almost mythical creatures to be desired, hunted, and captured for notches on your belt, to prove your manhood.
If anything good came out of this, it’s that I learned that lesson the hard way in time to tell my boys, and warn them. Not only don’t be that kind of predator that treats women like prey, but also look out for the predatory female, because they’re out there, too.
Even if nobody ever talks about it.
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