I watched the young men play football every Saturday at the local recreation center. We were always there as long as I can remember. My dad had coached little league baseball for over ten years. He did his best with the young boys, and I would sit there and pretend to read, although I spent most of my time glancing over the top of my book at young men tossing the football. You had to be careful not to get caught, because almost anything was a sin in lower Alabama’s Bible belt.
Why, I do not know. Even my father had his secrets and, coming of age as I was, I spent all the time secretly looking at his pornographic magazines. It was a strange time, I was learning about my young body and all its desires. It was a struggle of conscience, to the point that I masturbated by never touching myself skin to skin. I would lie there gazing at the sex and rubbing my young sensitive clit through my panties.