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Sally and I lived in a sort of truce most of the time, with a battle likely to break out at any minute, while our mum tried to keep the peace. However, Sally was a clever girl and eventually went to college to get a degree. She also had inherited Mum’s fastidious attitude to hygiene, washed her hands frequently, and she bathed far more frequently than was necessary in my view! She also changed her clothes frequently, especially her underwear. This was to my advantage as she put her discarded underclothing in the laundry basket in the bathroom. This exciting adventure was repeated every bedtime. Aunt Frances had a large washing machine and I don’t think she examined my pants before putting them in the wash, which was just as well! All went well for a few days. Then the sky darkened and the rain poured down! Uncle Mike was at his office, of course. Aunt Frances was visiting some friends for the day, and Clare said she would be at the farm attending to her pony until lunchtime. I couldn’t go fishing in that weather, so I said I would stay at home and read the set book from school, which I’d been told to read in the holidays. (It was The War of the Worlds!) Instead I’m going to change my battle cry — we need to change the way we raise boys. I know not all men are handsy-creeps but there are some members of their sex severely letting the team down. Too many men are silent bystanders to sexual harassment which is too often seen as a women’s issue, when it’s clearly a human issue. As I did not attend a mixed school my experiences were sadly too few and far between. In fact, most of them were during out of school hours – on the farm where my same age friend lived. He had a sister two years older, who would sometimes bring two or three girls home after school to play around. His guilty eyes confirmed my guess, and his voice trembled when he said, “But someone might come in”.

At the time of the following exciting adventure we were sixteen, but I was a few months older than she was. I was so frightened though curious that I pretended to still be sleeping. After this, he tried to have full sex with me, but I pushed him off. Then he started being very nice to me, introducing me to his friends and giving me presents. We did get to go to camp together, but it was a full year later. However, at the Easter Camp I went on my own as I was desperate to see Mrs Manders again! Mrs Manders was pleased to see me and I was thrilled to get a special hug from her.

A 14yr old boy's experience with mum's friends silky knickers (1970's)

I was having such a good time that when next he came to the guest room, I let him have sex with me. He now thinks he could do that any time he wants but I’ve told him to stop. Recently, he’s been forcing me to have sex with him whether I like it or not. I enjoy the sex but I’m only 16 and he is my first cousin. How do I make him stop? Some time later I sneaked into the washroom and carefully rinsed out my underpants with plenty of hot water. It would now be easier to fib and say they got muddy. The consequences of returning home with cum-filled underpants was beyond my imagination! It’s been a few days since this disturbing incident but I can’t let the rage go — and not just because of his dangerous driving. No, what makes my blood boil is the thought that this guy has managed to get to about 40 years of age and has likely spent a lot of that time being a creep. And what annoys me further is that I know many people reading this are going to roll their eyes and think I should get over it rather than chastise him. It all began when I started at senior school. There was so much sport and hobbies in my life that I had not really bothered very much about girls, except for the usual kissing and snogging, and they had remained a total mystery to me.

I put on a pink, lacy dress, with a short full bottom. "Zip me,"I say. He zips me and stands there. "Do you like it?" I ask. At the house I was shown to my room, a different one from normal. It looked like a large box-room and had several extra items of furniture, including a big old dressing table. I was an only child, but my interest in girls and what they wore, particularly under their skirts, had developed unusually early as a result of a particular, erotic experience, but that is another story. Simon, where are you going?” It was Mrs Manders’s strong, authoritative voice. My mind was racing but I could think of absolutely nothing and just kept walking. She called my name again, and again, and I pretended that I hadn’t heard, and just kept walking on. She caught up with me and I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I immediately jumped as if taken by surprise and gave a little shriek. I muttered some confused gibberish, and then said, “Where am I? Where am I?”Yes," he says, staring at my breasts. "You look so innocent."And then he looks up at my eyes, and slowly moves toward me. We met at the resort’s coffee shop and he apologised once again. I listened to him and then I said my piece. Now, in my late 20s, I’m less of a “good girl” and more of a “nasty woman” becoming more and more incapable of pretending to smile when a man does something slimy. And it seems it might be a right of passage for females approaching a certain age. It is what it is. I’m determined to keep looking forward and not focusing on what happened in the past. I believe Sam knew he made a huge mistake and maybe he’s paying the price of that in ways I’ll never know. I’m fully aware Creepy Driver Man (CDM) did not murder anyone in this scenario, but he is guilty of sexually harassing a complete stranger and that’s not okay. And I’m not being dramatic when I say that this kind of entitled, predatory attitude towards women escalates to more serious things like rape. A global problem

Some of the crew were exhausted but after dinner I suggested we all head off for more drinks — Sam was the only person who said yes. I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to network with the big boss. When Dad sits down in the dressing room he looks so silly--the chair istoo small, and he doesn't know what to do with his hands. He has this dumbsmile on his face, like he's waiting for me to do something. I stand overhim looking through the dresses. They're all strapless. I've never had astrapless dress before, and I'm thrilled, but I want to look mature, soI don't show my excitement. As a teenager I always used to spend about ten days each year with Cousin Clare and her parents. Clare wasn’t actually my cousin, but her mother and my mother were at school together, and it was a convenient way to refer to her. Clare was an only child. From birth, we are told not to be rude, or bossy, or difficult and above all, not to be a bitch. And it’s this obsession with “being nice” that is getting good girls into bad trouble.My sister made good her promise to totally ignore me in the future, while my mother reminded me of my sins on a daily basis for many months. In the end, completely fed up with the nagging and bad atmosphere, I went into an Army recruiting office and signed on with the Boys’ Service. My mother readily signed the approval forms, saying that it would make a man out of me! I promise you, I won’t go to HR,” I said. “I don’t want to destroy your career. But I expect you to do something for me.” This is so hot..oh yessssssssssssss...I understand the feelings finding such silky treasures just there..and for you to experience their wonderful silky delights. In a January episode of her Women of the Hour podcast, Lena Dunham, 31, was in conversation with author Mary Karr when they discussed this very phenomenon. As the “sweet” and “nice” girl grows up, Karr said, “everything she’s thinking and not saying is going to rush to the front of her face and she will not be able to stop herself.”