Twice upon a time
with you became redundant.
Should have stopped at once.
I just want to see how it feels to write about this.
I had a physical relationship with my cousin Nimrod (an alias) when I was only fifteen. Well, wait. It would be more accurate to say that he began having a relationship with me. He was at least twenty years older than me, married to his third or fourth wife, and had a kid. Not only did this little tryst fall under the category of statutory rape, but according to the laws of the state in which we lived it was clearly an incestuous coupling.
It all began when he offered to take me to a movie one evening. Rollerball, it was. I thought he was just trying to be a big brother or some such, as I was an only child and basically a loner. Further, I was certainly not the most attractive girl — the kids at school called me Pizza Face. Plus, I was overweight with a mop of Janis Joplin frizz to boot.
In any case, after the movie was over, which I found to be intensely boring, Nimrod asked me if I realized that he was attracted to me and if it would be okay if we kissed.
I was taken aback, and had no idea how to respond. Wishing that a meteor would hit the car or the world would blow up and deliver me from evil, I said nothing. So he kissed me. It was my first kiss. It was okay, I guess. The earth didn’t move like I thought it should, but at least he didn’t have halitosis or try to tickle my tonsils with his tongue. One thing lead to another as foreplay is wont to do, and eventually he asked if I wanted to get a hotel room. Of course I didn’t. What I wanted was to be home, cuddled up on the sofa I front of the TV with a bag of M&Ms and a couple of Twinkies, but who wants to be known as a tease?
So, off to the Pioneer Homestead we went. The carpeting in the little love nest was gray with yellowish-brown stains. The air was dank and the toilet ran constantly. Someone had broken the rabbit ears off the TV, but I doubted we’d be watching it anyway.
Did I mention that Nimrod was fat? We’re talking Sumo wrestler-fat.
With the lights out, I quickly undressed and hopped in the sack, pulling the smelly blankets up to my chin, wishing even harder for that elusive meteor. Nimrod followed suit and began imitating an octopus — hands everywhere. Although this was my first rodeo, instinct told me that I should be doing something to him, too. I tried, but it was buried under that huge wad of fat. After some unbelievably awkward fumbling, the most interesting body part I was able to locate was his belly button. It felt to be about the size of a nickel, and deep. I didn’t dig around of course, but could sense that there was probably lint in there. It didn’t matter though, because Nimrod was ready for the next thing.
He climbed on and got us into position. Remember, I was a virgin and had no clue as what, how or when anything was supposed to happen. Next, I felt a little nudge between my legs―just a slight poke. Suddenly, Nimrod began breathing hard and moaned something about coming.
Just as I said, “I don’t think it’s in yet,” he had arrived and that was that.
Not long after that, Nimrod and his family moved out of state. Thank God! Ten years later when I saw him again, he suggested another evening of unbridled lust.
I wanted to punch his fat face.
Instead, I pretended that I had no idea what he was talking about, and no memory of what had happened ten years prior.
It galled him!
That was the last time I saw Nimrod.
He died a few years ago.
The interview you are about to read is true. It actually happened, just like this: