Teaching Tammy

My name is Tammy, and these stories will take you through my childhood and how the sexual events of my childhood shaped the person I am today. Some of these stories will offend the sensibilities of some, but are likely to appeal to others. Eventually, though, I will have offered something for everyone.

When I was 7,  I was one of only a few kids on my street. We lived in a trailer park where most of the trailers were shielded by high wooden fences in the front, and divided by chain link fences in between the lots.  I lived next to a family that had a 4 year old girl, Candy. I will never know for sure why, but I wasn’t allowed to go into Candy’s yard or house. I am sure my mother thought that her family was evil or dirty, which is why she kept me away. I find that ironic.

Candy’s  yard and mine were separated by a high chain link fence. When we’d “play together” we’d often hit a ball over the fence together. We spent a lot of time just talking through the fence. I ‘ll never remember how it happened or what even gave me the idea, but when Candy and I thought nobody was watching, we would press ourselves up against each other through the fence. Looking back, I’m pretty sure someone (most likely my uncle Josh) taught me very dirty things about being naked and touching each others private parts. I know that I was the instigator with Candy. There was a bush in the corner of the front yard, partially shielding us from the view of the street. We would meet near that bush, pull our pants and panties down, and press our tiny slits up against each other and rub them together. One day, a car driving past saw us, and honked. We pulled up our pants and were very nervous and scared for what our parents might find out, but nobody ever told them anything. Later, I would learn that the person who saw me in that car would take advantage of what they saw.

When Candy wasn’t available to play, I would ride my bike up and down the street. The rules were that I was not allowed to go into anyone’s house, but that I could stop and visit the neighbors and hang out on their porch. Our street was lined with people I didn’t know, but a few houses down, there was a couple in their 60s, Hank and Mildred, who always seemed to be on their porch, and waiting for my afternoon visits.  Most of the porches on the trailers were actually on the sides of the homes, facing the next house, not the street. From the street, a covered porch was barely visible. 

The first few visits with them didn’t really strike me as unusual.