I was just a
little past puberty, maybe late teens, talking with my sister about sex. I said, “Don’t you just love it when a guy
rubs you outside your pants?” Trish got
enraged, nervous, kept me from saying anything more, said quickly, “No and I
don't know what you're talking about.”
Just one of
those moments that never leaves my head.
Today I remember that Father Horne used to diddle me in a very personal way outside my underpants, over the fabric, and he probably did the same to my sister. When she turned nine-ten years old, she was too old for him, so he turned to me at age four-five to pick up where he left off with her.
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