Afternoon Tryst

     Helen pulled her '59 black and white Ford into the lot.

     "Damn, I love this car," she thought. "Gets me anywhere I want to go."

     The car had been a gift from Fabian Mills of St. Lawrence, about 50 miles from Grand Bank. Fabian was the town's mayor, but also owned a hotel, general store and garage. When in St. Lawrence, Helen always made a point of stopping by his room at the Laurentian Club for some small talk and a quick round of sex.

     "Oh, that man is so fine!" she thought.

     Grabbing her handbag, Helen got out and walked toward the store.

     "Hey, Helen!"

     Abruptly she turned her summer dress swirling. One strap hung low on her arm revealing the bronzed skin of her shoulder and upper chest.

     "Hi Ronnie. What are you up to?"

     "Just picking up a few things. Want to get together later?"

     "Sure," Helen replied. "On second thought, why don't we go for a ride? It's a beautiful day."

     Touching her shoulder, Ronnie looked deep into her blue eyes.

     "Sounds good to me. Let's go," he said as he opened the passenger door.

     They drove down Patterson Road and into Forest Berry Park. It was a secluded area that Helen knew well. She'd taken many a man there for a little fun, including Carl, who worked in an office in town, Rick, the loans officer at the bank and a local schoolteacher named Frank. She just loved these trips and always came back feeling really good.

     "Come here baby," said Ronnie drawing her close. "Give me some of that sweet sugar."

     He pulled at her dress, fumbling with the buttons and then decided to just lift her skirt as high as he could. Helen laid back in that '52 Chevy and took him into her.

     "Ohhhhh!" she whispered as they sank harder into the back seat.

     After they pulled themselves together, Helen drove back to town all smiles.

     "Hand it over hon," she said.

     Ronnie pulled out his fat wallet and yanked at a $10 bill. Handing it to her, he snuck in one last caress on her right breast. He knew he was just one of her many lovers, but didn't really mind. As long as he could screw her once in a while, that's all he cared about. As a local minister of Parliament and married man, Ronnie didn't want people knowing his private business. Best to meet on the sly and catch some fun when he could.
     "See you later," Helen waved as Ronnie turned to leave.

     "See ya."

     Helen reached the door of the little grocery and stopped to adjust her dress. Once inside she hurriedly gathered the few necessities she'd come for – a jar of peanut butter, some apples and milk. The money she'd made would more than cover it and she was pleased.

     On the drive home, Helen thought about her youth. It had been tough. Her father was also a sea captain and often took her ma aboard with him. But pa got real mad when he found out she was treating the men to private delights on the ship and decided to leave her ashore. However, that didn't stop her ma from finding men to spend her time with and life was spent in a house with a revolving door of guys who often eyed her with prying eyes. They were dirt poor in that small town of Grand Bank and it wasn't long before Helen was drawn into the circle of men too.

     At the tender age of five, ma led her into the bedroom and coached her as to what to do to please the men. As always, they'd hand over dollar bills and be on their way. Her brother had also been a sex toy for strangers and by the time he turned 14, he took to pimping her out to his friends as well. From teenage boys to grown men – businessmen and town politicians – Helen pleasured them all, allowing them to touch her breasts and private areas, while they jerked off in front of her. It became a way of life and began a cycle of abuse that she carried over to her own children.

     Timmy was just 4 years old the first time she took him into her bedroom. Yanking down his pants, Helen played with his baby penis, rubbing herself all the while. Then every chance she got, whether in the car with him or at night when he got into bed, Timmy became her sexual play toy.

     "Hey ma?" Timmy asked one day. "Can I go to the store and get some penny candy?"

     "You've got to be kidding me Timmy! The only candy around here is you, my sweet. Get your little butt into the bedroom. Now!"

     The youngster toddled along slowly, but eventually made his way toward her room. He didn't know why, but somehow he knew that this just wasn't right.

     "Sit on this chair here Timmy," she said taking off her skirt.

     Helen tossed off her shoes and then reached over to yank down her son's shorts. Then she fondled his penis for several minutes before bending down to put the little thing in her mouth. Timmy didn't know what to say or do.

     "What is she doing to me?" he thought, his young mind reeling.

     Helen then picked him right up and tossed him onto her big quilted bed.

     "Just lie there like a good little boy," she said, while pulling her panties out from under her skirt.

     Timmy just stared at the ceiling, as his ma squirmed on top of him. As she continued to rock back and forth, up and down, he wondered why doing this was so important to his ma. Why did she keep dragging him into her room and sitting on him? Didn't she know it was hurting him?

     "Ma! Stop, please… please stop!" he hollered, but it was as if she were deaf.

     Timmy cried himself to sleep that night and for many nights after, when she'd either take him in her room or jump right into bed with him. He was one frustrated little boy, but had no idea who he could go to for help so she'd just stop it. He knew telling his sisters would do no good. They were younger than he. Timmy felt alone – very much alone, as ma continued to abuse his little body.

     "Well, hello there Mr. Jim!" Helen squealed as she ushered him through the front door. "It sure has been awhile."

     "Yeah, it has for sure," he replied. "You look terrific."

      "Come on into the kitchen. Would you like a shot of whiskey?"

     Jim followed her watching her hips sway like a willow tree on a breezy spring day.

     "Sit right down now and I'll get that drink," she cooed.

     "Helen, how many kids you got now?" he asked.

     "Oh, too many I think. The little brats are out on the porch."

     As Jim turned to look in that direction, he noticed Timmy peeking around the doorway. Helen brought two small glasses to the table and sat close to him.

     "I sure have missed you fella," she smiled coyly.

     Then, with a giggle, she reached down and stroked his crotch. All the while, Timmy stood by the door not knowing what to make of it.

     "Who is this guy?" he thought. "He sure is big!

     Jim ran his fingers through his jet, black hair and swung his arm around Helen.

     "We'd best be goin' Helen."

     "Yeah, sure. Just as soon as the sitter gets here."

     "Babysitter," thought Timmy. "Gees, I hope she's not crazy like some of the ones who've been here – drinkin' and all."

     Helen heard a knock at the door.

     "Oh, that must be Maryanne now," she said.

     "Come right in Maryanne. The kids are playing on the porch, there's tea and we won't be gone too long."

     Maryanne went into the enclosed porch to check on the children.

     "You kids okay?" she asked.

     "Yep," Timmy replied with a grimace.

     "How about I make you all a treat. I brought some cookies that I baked myself and I think you'll like them."

     "We wuv cookies," Susan squealed with delight.

     The little red-haired toddler reached over and grabbed the rag doll from Debbie's buggy.

     "Mine!" she hollered as the baby began to wail.

     As Maryanne sat with the youngsters on the floor, she noticed that Timmy was squirming quite a bit.

     "What's wrong with you Timmy? You got ants in your pants? She asked.

     "No… my privates are sore," he said almost in a whisper.

     Helen's trip out driving with Jim could not have been enough for her. When she got home, she immediately told Timmy to go to her room. It was a practice he would soon become accustomed to, but sorely wished it never did. After several months of assaulting her son, Helen did so much damage to Timmy's genitals that he would cry out loud when she touched him. Then she knew that she had no choice but to take him to the doctor.

     Upon examination, Dr. Williams found that Timmy's foreskin had been torn, but never questioned the cause. He told Helen the best thing to do would be to circumcise the youngster. Of course at his age, Timmy didn't realize what was happening to him or that he should, in some way, let the doctor know what had been going on.

     "Oh well. What's done is done," she muttered to herself. "At least he won't pick up any bad diseases now."

     Timmy never did see Maryanne after that day at the doctors.

     "I wonder if she knew something," he thought.

In mid-May 2005, Bryon Prior left Grand Bank for Parliament Hill in Ottawa. He has been picketing there hoping to draw attention to what happened some 45 years ago to him and his siblings. Every one of them became victims of verbal, physical, emotional and sexual abuse at the hands of their mother and her many paramours. Byron's website is at: http://www.maxpages.com/sexualabuse and you can read more there. As well, my book "Playing With The Devil" recounts the horrific abuses suffered by these children. My website is: http://www.angelfire.com/planet/pwtd. There you will find links to Byron's website, Canadian Children First, which has listed my book on their website, as well as other related links.