He fondled my budding breasts

I hated my breasts when they finally came. I was around 12 years when the little things started to peek through my baggy T-shirts. I remember walking with a stick inside my shirt to push the shirt away from my breasts so that they would become less visible. I hated even the mention of those breasts. So you will understand when I explain why I will never forget our neighbour Morris (not real name). This is painful to remember and I am shaking my head as I type.

Sigh.

Okay so one day Morris called me over to his place to help him peel Irish potatoes. Being helpful little me, I agreed especially because about two other houses surrounded Morris’s house and many of my friends continuously played on his veranda where I was peeling the Irish potatoes from. So this time, Morris (when no one was looking) reached out and fondled my tiny little budding breasts.

Imagine my shock! I dropped the knife and stood up, too embarrassed to do anything else. Was I supposed to report this? Was it normal? Then why did I feel all dirty and exposed. Let me tell you. I have bumped into Morris several times. He is married with children and probably forgot what he did. But I will never forget that trespassing touch on my little breasts when I was just getting used to them.

It was a terrible experience.

Meri

My name is Meri. I am so so simple that I end up appearing complicated. Everyday I discover something new about myself. I love good conversation, listening to God and solving problems. Some day I will either act in or be part of the production of a wonderful musical play somewhere.

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