My mom is a basic bitch from a long line of basic bitches, and my father? He was right out of a romance story.
Literally, she told me she was on leave, and about him taking her around Majorca on his Yacht. I thought it was “So romantic,” because I grew up with these stories, until I started asking questions about what was wrong with it.
For one thing, she was stationed in San Diego, she was never really on a ship, because she was a Billeting officer. Even if she was, it would have been Pacific Fleet, and to even meet someone in the Mediterranean Carrier Group to hear about this, she would have to go all the way around Panama, and the US doesn’t have a Navy base anywhere near the Spanish Riviera or Majorca.
It turns out that Sangria and Tapas sounded more interesting than Tequila, and Fish Tacos. Majorca a lot more exotic than Tijuana. I was just about as old as that life-saver, and anchor tattoo on the small of her back. Did I mention she was a basic bitch?
Well, she fell in love with a boy, and I seen pictures from her yearbook, he did look pretty good in that ROTC uniform. He promised they could be stationed together when they got married, and then he broke up with her in Basic. So, when they got enlisted, she went out partying with the other Basic bitches, and 9 moths later, “It’s a girl!”
I don’t remember living on base very well, because she finished her tour when I was about 3, then she started working in hotels. Managing them, but I pretty much grew up in hotel rooms, so she didn’t have to pay rent. I learned Spanish from my babysitters, most of them were off-duty maids. Finally, I had to go to school, so we settled down in Saint Louis MO. With a nice view of the airport, across the highway.
My first sexual experience was this man came in my room. We lived in a Suite, so there was just a double-door between my room, and mom’s but he was touching me. So, I yelled “MOMMY!” And she came to chase him out with her gun. A Beretta M9, just like Lethal Weapon. It wasn’t her service pistol, but she was in the Navy, so when she got out, she bought another one.
She was drunk, and I could smell the alcohol on him when she chased him out, but she hugged me, and told me she was “So sorry” until I stopped crying, and slowly went back to sleep. It turns out he picked her up at a bar, and took her home. Then, after they had sex, he got up in the middle of the night to molest me. I had nightmares about that, waking up with a man in my room touching me, until mom got married.
My first daddy was a long hall trucker, but he left his wife, and mom moved us down to Lone Butte. It’s not a city, it’s not even a small town, it’s basically just a general store, and a bar across the highway. Nice views, if you like roadrunners, I never saw a coyote, but we heard them outside at night. Daddy left his wife, because mom was more, forgiving?
She didn’t care if he slept with hookers while he was out on the road, and he didn’t care who she slept with either, so he was pretty much an absentee father. He owned some land, though. Had a trailer on it, but that was a step up from hotel rooms, and most of the kids out there lived in mobile homes too, but it wasn’t a Trailer Park, as such.
It wasn’t even a neighborhood, it was just a General Store, and a bar, off some highway south of the capital of the Southwest. If you kept going further down the highway, there was an old mining town that got taken over by “Artists.” By which I mean “Hippies,” by which I mean liberal hipsters that aren’t old enough to remember the 60s, and smoke pot anyway.
Mom was Irish, so she drove down to drink there, even though she worked in a bar, by which I mean a “Brewpub.” Sometimes she came home, others she stayed the night at his place, her husband didn’t really care one way or another, it was an Open Marriage.
However, all the kids had to ride the bus into town, and it was the same bus for all the schools. The teenagers went to Capital High, I went to 4th through 6th, and then I started hanging out on the Plaza with my middle school friends. Pretty much the only way to get back home was getting a ride, so sometimes I camped out at their house, when I couldn’t get a ride back down to Lone Butte.
I pretty much got over my nightmares about a man in my room couch surfing around, and getting rides home from strangers headed that way. My step-dad didn’t touch me, and he bough mom a rack to hold her tits up. Since he was a big tits kinda guy, he had old copies of Juggs magazine lying around the trailer, and mom had gotten a little saggy over the years. He got her implants.
Somehow I didn’t get kindapped, raped, and murdered, hitching rides back down to lone Butte as a tweenager. Honestly, Santa Fe was one of the Rape Capitals of the World, probably because of the tourists. Walking around in season, and taking pictures of the pigeons on the Plaza. We laughed about it, but seriously, don’t they have pigeons back home? They’re not particularly special pigeons, but do they have friends back home, they show their photo albums, of pigeons from around the world? “And this one was on the Plaza, in Santa Fe.”
Finally, this guy came up to me, Faren, Alicia, and her boyfriend Micah. He asked if we “Spoke English,” and we laughed. I put on my best lilt, “I’m Irish, but yeah. I speak English.” So, he asked me if I knew how to get, somewhere. I don’t know, honestly we’d been smoking pot, and not that Mexican dirt weed that’s pressed into bales so it comes in chunks like plywood, with seeds. So, my memory’s kinda sketchy?
“Yeah,” let’s just assume he wanted to know where he could score pot, or smoke it. Lisa, and Cecil were plaza cops, and they could tell you where you could go smoke pot, so the tourists didn’t see you. It wasn’t legal there at the time, but they didn’t exactly enforce it. So, I basically gave him the tour, and followed him back to the parking lot.
He gave me a ride, and I pointed out other places that looked neat, the Cathedral “That’s actually the tallest building, because they got a building code that nothing can be taller,” Interesting facts like that, and by interesting, I mean boring. So, I gave him directions up Artist Road, where you could see over downtown, and watch the sunset, if it was that late.
He didn’t want to watch the sunset, but we smoked some pot (He had the Mexican dirt weed, with stems, and seeds to pick out,) then he leaned over, and started feeling me up. I just kinda froze, I had no idea what to do, but I didn’t say no, or try to stop him. He got my top up, his hand down my pants, and I just closed my eyes. Waiting for it to start feeling good, but it didn’t turn me on.
I had to be about 10, or 11, so not much to show for it in the bras. Some pubic hairs, but his finger felt dry, and rough. Rubbing up, and down my slot, until finally he sat up, and unbuckled his belt. Texan, so a Texan belt buckle, not a Rodeo buckle, but still. You get the idea, but he was hard, and once he got it out, I knew what to do.
I blew him, I’d never gotten the chance to before, and I was kind of curious what it was like. White guy, circumcised, he just patted my back, and rubbed it. “Ah honey. Your mouth feels so good, yeah. Suck it like that, lick the tip.” He talked me through it, but I just thought to myself, this ain’t too bad. I could do it, so hopefully he didn’t rape me, murder me, dump my body in a ditch.
Mom wasn’t really one of those “Dead in a ditch” kinda mothers. She told war stories, mostly ones she heard from her vet buddies. You know the Navy SEALs? Well, nobody actually just drove a truck in the Navy, they were all SEALs, just ask them! (Especially when they’re talking to the cute blonde in the bar. “That’s classified.” My mom was that cute blonde in the bar.)
“Uh, here it cums, you ready?”
“Uh?” I blinked, back to reality when I realized I spaced out, sucking a stranger on a scenic overlook. He pushed my mouth off, and I wiped it sitting up, then I just nodded. “Uh uh uh!” He finally beat off, and I giggled, shaking my head.
“Huh!” I rolled my eyes, and looked out the window, while he wiped off the steering wheel, and fixed up his pants. “Would you mind giving me a ride home?” He dropped me off at the General Store to walk back, and re-think my life choices.
“Ain’t she a Butte?”
By which I mean I’m a basic bitch, from a long line of basic bitches. My name is a dad-joke FFS. Mia Moore, Mi Amor? But I lived in Santa Fe, so I could have a bud light while he told me about why it’s called Anchor Steam Pale Ale. “Uh huh?”
When mom got home, I asked her if I was old enough to get a gun. Just a little purse gun, a .22 just in case I needed it. Most of my friends had liberal “Dead in a Ditch” moms to worry for them. So, I heard enough stories. “Sure, hun.”
So, when she sobered up, she drove me up to the pawn shop, to pick out something nice.
#Abuse #Teen #Virgin