He isn’t my grandfather, just a family friend who we all called Poppa. Now I’m grown our relationship has changed.
He calls me a good girl and I feel ashamed. I am not a good girl, I am a bad girl. I am a bad girl who likes it. I like being bad for this man. He makes me call him poppa …and he touches me…in places where he shouldn’t touch me. I feel the heat of his hand on my skin. My body trembles with fear and anticipation as he does things to me that are wrong but so right. It feels so good. His hands are rough against my soft skin. I feel my nipples harden in response to his touch. I know what he wants. How can I refuse him?
I want to please him too. And I do. He takes me into his arms and holds me close. “Say please to poppa” he says in my ear. I say please…