I sit naked under the pagoda, waiting. I glance around the room, catching snippets of chatter and laughter and conversation, whimpers and moans from the other scenes in progress. Before ordering me to strip, he laid down the waterproof pad on the ground. I sit in the middle of it, and I can see daddy's pretty purple rope laid out to my side. I close my eyes and breathe. I hear a jingle as his belt is undone, and he lets his pants fall to the floor. A moment later, his naked body is pressed against my back, his warmth radiating into me. His left arm comes around, hand on my heart, pulling me into him. The other hand rests on my throat. "Are you ready, little girl?" He breathes into my ear. I moan and nod my head. His hand leaves my throat, sliding down over my shoulder, rotating it and pulling my wrist behind my back. The other hand trails over my breast, applying gentle pressure to my nipple, then pulling the other wrist back. Then, the rough, sweet feel of rope aroun

  Sometimes we do things and we don't know why at the time. Especially in our youth. I found myself recalling such an occurrence recently when talking to a friend. It happened when I was just nineteen - 'the occurrence.' I had made friends with a new group of people, all of them older than me. Gino and Rob in particular were very friendly. I'm sure if mobile phones had existed at the time we would have exchanged messages incessantly. As it was, Rob often cycled fifteen miles to come to visit. I truly viewed Rob as just a friend - a good friend with who I had much in common. We would sit on the porch in the sun, listening to music and talking. Like Gino, he was very artistic. Both played guitar. Gino was in a band. It was one day when we were all at Gino's house when I first noticed the rivalry between them. How I had not noticed it before was a mystery to me. As Gino played his latest song and laid on his Italian charm the air fairly sizzled with Rob's annoyan